Immune-ish

Chapter Thirteen

EVA:

I. Can't. Sleep.

I don't think that it's that my brain is too active or I have sleep insomnia or anything. It's that I physically can't sleep. My body won't let me. Well, my zombie body won't let me.

I wish I could, though. Then my thoughts would stop circling around my hope for the cure, and the possibility that it wouldn't work, like Xander said. But my thoughts won't stop and I have no way to shut them off.

I wonder if Xander's asleep already, but then I start to wonder about him. How he thinks, how he acts, how his muscles look . . . What he thinks about me. I internally scream.

And then my thoughts arrive at the stressful subject of me. What am I? Is it my fault my family is dead? Is the rest of my town dead? Is it my fault Max is dead? Was it so wrong that I killed him? Is it so wrong that I want Xander this badly, even though I don't know him, and that I wanted Max even less than this? Why don't half of my thoughts make any sense anymore? The questions won't go away, and all I want right now are some answers, but none present themselves.

Then another question comes into play: when - or better yet, what - will I eat? All living things need energy. I am somewhat living, so therefore, I need energy. I ate a man already, and that made me feel better. But I've been starting to feel hungry all day. I didn't want to tell Xander, though, because I didn't want to upset him. And since I have laid in his parents bed and been alone with my thoughts, it has gotten progressively worse. So bad that I feel like my stomach is digesting itself. I'm too scared to go near him for fear of hurting him. Every once in a while, my thoughts wander a bit too far and I think about the man I bit. How good it felt when his blood trickled down my throat.

What am I going to do? I wonder, and even I don't know if it's about the hunger or about being a zombie thing. I need that cure, but I have a feeling Xander won't let me have it. Just the way he was talking about it sounded so mean, and now I'm scared. What have I gotten myself into?

I suddenly hear footsteps coming from down the hall. What is he doing? My stomach starts to growl with each step. I know I need to warn him to go away, but for an inexplicable reason, I don't want him to know that I'm hungry. I don't want him to think of me as a zombie. Is how he thinks of me really more important this his safety?

"Xander?" I ask.

"Yeah, Eva?" He immediately responds and I can tell that he's right outside my door.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Just getting some water," he says. "And checking up on you."

That's so sweet! But he can't come any closer. "Please don't come in here," I say as vaguely as I possibly can.

"Why not?" I can hear the worry in his voice and it sort of surprises me. "Is something wrong?"

My stomach growls, as if on cue, and I hope he can't hear it. "Um . . . No?" It sounds like a question. I shouldn't have said anything.

"Eva?"

"I'm fine!" I shout. My stomach is starting to hurt. Every time I move, it's like there are knives being stabbed into my guts. I wonder if this is how zombies feel on a daily basis. This would be enough to steal anyone's humanity away from them. I understand.

"I'm coming in," he announces.

"No!" I shout. I regret that I said anything to him at all. If he'd thought I was asleep, he wouldn't dare disturb me.