“I got you something,” Charles’ voice rang through ‘your’ room, as he stood in the doorway with a sack of… something in his hands. He wasn’t expecting a response — he never did.

You were dead, after all. Kind of. Undead — a zombie.

Charles lightly tossed the bag into the centre of the room, the top opening slightly and allowing you to smell that intoxicating scent of blood and gore. Food.