Silent Screams

The dead can still think. Trapped inside their own bodies, they scream, beg, and plead for a death that is denied to them. They have no control, forced to experience their torture from a passenger seat. I can hear them, every thought, around me - a curse I thought I'd mastered until the zombies began screaming into my mind. Now, I'm haunted by their agony as they hunt the living, forced to savor flesh they never wanted. I'm the only person that knows what's waiting on the other side of a bite, and it's far worse than death.

Surviving this hell is a game I can play - I'm used to finding and pulling the right strings for my own gain. People are easy to use when you know exactly what they're looking for. Yet, there's one that's becoming more. With every step forward, I wonder... am I becoming a better person in the midst of this nightmare? Or am I just refusing to let go of a warmth I know should be mine?