Black blood

Hands

"When life seems dangerous and unmanageable, just remember that it is and that you can't survive forever."
WTNV
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Angelo's POV

Thank God the fucking kid hadn't thought to make fun of my name. The sorry priest who had decided it was a good idea to name me after one of God's little sluts had been out of their mind. He'd been a drunkard. The few memories I have of that time were of him chugging huge quantities of alcohol. He'd obviously been too intoxicated to make much of an effort in naming the poor bastard someone had abandoned at his door.

Speaking of doors, this was mine. I closed it and dropped my burden on the floor. A startled yelp preceded the kid's annoyed face.

"You could be a bit more careful, you know?"

"Why? It's not like it hurts, does it?"

"Touché"-the kid furrowed his brow-"speaking of which, what's up with this?"-he signaled his ankle first, and then more widely as if implying the whole situation-"why do I-"

"You need to eat"

"What?"

"Are you deaf on top of being dead? I said you need to eat. I'm not having a rampaging zombie in my apartment"
I could see he had more questions but I simply left him propped up agaist the door and went to the fridge. I was tired. And hungry. I don't know what exactly had insted me to take the kid home but I was already regretting it.
"Here"

Jake's POV

"Here"-he threw something at me. Some kind of bundle. It was mushy. And kind of wet. It felt pretty gross to be honest.

"Eat"

What? Eat it? I gave him a dubious glare before slowly opening the small package.

"WHAT THE FLYING FUDGE?! Dude. Dude. This...this is a brain. I'm not even going to ask why you have this in your fridge. I don't care. But I'm not eating it."

He stared at me. The fucker was smirking. He locked his eyes with mine and slowly started unwrapping his own little packet. He smiled widely now.

Angelo's POV

Hands are delicious. Maybe it's because they have just the perfect amount of fat in them. Maybe it's because they have a lot of bones and little tendons in them. Maybe it's just a weird fixation of mine, since they're all I was able to eat for years. They taste like chicken wings. Or like I imagine chicken wings taste like. Delicious.

He didn't seem to think the same though, based of his expression. Well, worse for him if he was squeamish. After all, everyone had to eat, dead or not. There were different consequences of starvation depending on the specific characteristics of your existence; but one thing was universal: not eating was not good for you. If you are a human, you die. If you are a zombie, your cells start to die, to degenerate, until all that's left of you is a drooling, raging, dead mess. I doubted telling him would make any difference though, considering the look he was giving me. And the side look he was giving the door, obviously calculating his chances of escaping. The idiot.

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Well? What did you guys think of this chapter? Weird, right?
(I'm already in love with Angelo XD)
Oh! and sorry for taking so much time to update, some personal stuff came up. I promise I won't be so long this time!!

And before I forget, I changed the cover.

Comments? Sugestions? Don't forget to leave a comment! (I LOVE reading those)