A New Body - original

6- Phoebe

This new body is interesting. She still hasn't figured out what she's become, but she's definitely not human.

Her temperature remains in a constant icy state. Her skin is swollen and lifeless. She's never hungry, at least not for regular food. Sleep only exists in brief increments during the day, though she rarely ever feels tired anymore. And still, no heartbeat to be found.

The only thing that has stayed the same is her feelings, her mind. Anxiety has been clawing at Phoebe's stomach ever since she woke up in the dirt two days ago, and it's threatening to tear her apart.

Kate though, God bless her. She's the one keeping it all together.

Her kind and understanding nature have been a calming force when everything gets too loud. She's been solely focused on researching everything supernatural or paranormal, from renting dusty library books to scrolling endlessly on online forums. She's even run some little tests to try out her different hypotheses.

For example, they now know that Phoebe's pain tolerance is far higher than it used to be. This had been discovered when Kate stabbed her hand with a pencil yesterday, no warning. Like a literal psychopath. It still hurt. But she didn't bleed. The wound was black, decayed skin.

"I did that in the name of science." Kate reasoned after she confirmed that Phoebe was okay.

After that, they found out that her scars would actually heal themselves if given enough time. Roughly thirty minutes, to be exact.

She saw it happening with her own eyes. Her body had stitched itself back together, which is probably what kept her alive when she thought she was dead. That kind of makes her immortal, in a way.

Phoebe feels anything but.

The plan that Kate had orchestrated last night is not one that inspires much confidence. In fact, she feels more vulnerable than ever, pressed up against the scratchy cinderblock wall. Chatter floats from the cafeteria into the hallway.

For a split second, Phoebe is insecure.

Walking into a room full of high schoolers after you were just murdered is unnerving. People are going to notice that something is different the second she enters, and the last thing she wants is for everyone to start talking. But she can't back out now.

Her hands anxiously run up and down the stitching of her jeans. One foot in front of the other, right? She rounds the corner and steps into the lunchroom.

It's teeming with people, and for a moment it seems like any other day. She imagines herself sitting with the girls, laughing about nothing.

Then she locks eyes with Kate, who is sitting on the outskirts of the room with her headphones in. She points toward the tables in the middle.

Blake sits with his friends, leaning back in his chair casually as if he didn't try to murder his ex-girlfriend a few nights ago. It makes her so insatiably angry, which helps push her legs back into motion. She's powering toward him with the force of a missile, and she plans on hitting her target.

Her boots click against the floor. She feels silly, dressed all preppy for school like her mother wanted. Phoebe had even put on makeup.

Better to be a sexy dead girl than just a regular old zombie.

She's finally only feet away. He hasn't even looked at her yet, so wrapped up in his own stupid fucking world. Phoebe slams her palms down on the table and leans across it. His head turns in slow motion. All of their heads do.