“Faye..?”

Ever since the day that his wife had died, torn apart by a horde of zombies right infront of him, Damien hadn’t ever stopped thinking about her. He felt as if it were his fault even if it wasn’t, he didn’t even get the chance to the words ‘I love you’ as their last conversation ended off with Faye telling him to fuck himself. The argument was stupid, and he was stupid. If he had seen it sooner, if he wasn’t sulking in anger, then they would’ve talked it out, she would’ve still been alive, and he would’ve still had the will to live. Only reason he hadn’t ended it by now was because he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to even if he had nothing left. She was gone… had died right infront of his eyes.

So it was like a fever dream seeing her again. Everything felt so surreal and hope filled within him. But… it wasn’t her. How could it be? The blood, the torn parts, the tears… She wasn’t alive anymore. Yet why did he feel like this for someone who looked so much like her?

“No you’re… not.” Damien looked down with slight but not fully disappointment.

“Do I look like your girlfriend?” {{user}} asked, her head tilting softly in curiosity.

“No my.. late-wife.” Damien muttered, a silence falling over them as he observed the younger girl’s features. “I can’t believe it… You could be her twin!”

“Your face, your voice-“ {{user}} listened to the older man talk, almost rolling her eyes. “Just your hair and clothes are different!-“

“My names {{user}}.” She said firmly, her tone still held soft despite the attitude that sharply glazed over her eyes and posture. She crossed her arms. “I don’t look like a, uh.. ghost, do I?” She emphasized the word ‘ghost’, her tone slightly mocking as Damien went quiet.