Page 21 of Their Darkest Needs

“Babe?” I shout, not moving from the spot.Am I tripping?

“Ryan? What's wrong?” Taylor’s gruffy morning voice comes from behind me, and I can feel her hand on my shoulder as a small gasp leaves her throat.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I whisper to her. I don’t know why I am saying it so quietly because I shouted before and that fucking thing is now looking at me. And yes, I’m calling it a thing because no fucking way that, that is the actual fucking Mara sitting on my fucking couch, covered in dirt and some—I don’t want to know what it is—wet stuff, eating a fucking pack of raw meat with her bare dirty fucking hands.

“Mara! Your back, it worked!” Taylor shouts excitedly, running over to the thing on the couch. What the fuck? What worked? Why is she hugging that? I need a drink, yeah, I need a lot of drinks.

I grab Taylor’s arm, pulling her back. I should've done it earlier—what if it tried to bite her or something.

“Ryan, what the hell?” I pull her out of the room, closing the living room door.

“Are you crazy?” she screeches at me, trying to open the door again. I hold her firm against me.

“Am I crazy? Last time I checked she was six feet under. Why would you fucking hug whatever the fuck that’s supposed to be? Do you want to die? It could be a zombie for all we know!” I don’t care, I'm shouting loudly at her at this point. She needs to stop being so naïve and start thinking rationally.

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Taylor laughs like a maniac, tears rolling down. She slides out of my arms and down onto the floor.Fuck, is she losing it right now?

“I don’t see what’s so fucking funny, TAYLOR!” She wipes the tears from her eyes and tries to get back up, ignoring my stretched-out hand.

“A zombie, this isn’t a movie, babe. She is just reborn because of the cemetery,” she blatantly states, like it’s a normal thing.

“This isn’t a movie.” I sarcastically say back. “Babe, there’s a fucking dead person on my damn couch covered in god knows what!” I hold my head with my hands, trying to wrap my head around what the hell is happening.

“What did you do?” I keep repeating the same question over and over again, like a broken record. I guess maybe Felix wasn’t so crazy after all. Maybe I should call him and ask for help. I mean, he’d believe me, right? I don’t think anyone else would.

“You didn’t believe me, so I had no choice,” she answers softly after a while. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I brought her back,” she whispers.

How does that even work? I mean, did she do it Frankenstein style, oh god, I’m definitely losing it, no way that this is actually happening.

“How did you bring her back?” I grit out the words like they’re poison, unsure I want to know the answer to it.

“I buried her in that old cemetery.”

She what now?

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that correctly. Could you repeat that answer?” I ask, looking down, while really, really hoping she did not just say that.

“Does it even matter? Look, she’s back! That’s what we wanted, isn't it?” she says happily.

God fucking damn it. That’s what you get for stalking a girl and making her believe we are married, when in fact, she didn’t even know me. It’s just a cruel joke from whatever god there is. A punishment for my crimes.

I need to think logically and get rid of that thing, but I can’t just do it in front of her. She’ll never forgive me. She’ll go mad. I mean, see what she just did.

“It’s not natural, who knows what it’s capable of.” I try to reason with her, but it’s all in one ear and out the other.

She just scoffs, fucking scoffs at me, and opens the door and goes to sit with that supposedly-dead-person sitting on my goddamn couch.

“How are you feeling, Mara?” she asks it. I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, making her look up angrily at me, brows furrowed.

“What’s so funny?” she asks. I can’t believe her. She's not just crazy, she's deranged.

“I can’t believe you, this! God woman, you need help.” I pick up the gun I dropped on the floor while I was trying to make sense of it all, and sit behind them on a chair holding the gun in front of me. Friend or not, if she even looks funny at me or Taylor, I’m blowing that thing's head right off. I’ll pay for Taylor’s psychologist, I don’t care anymore.

Taylor keeps asking it questions, but all that thing does is make grunting noises. I guess the saying that the dead don’t speak has taken a whole new level now.

I grab my phone with my other hand and dial Felix, because what else can I do?

He picks up instantly after the second ring, knowing I don’t just call for no reason. “Hello? Ry, what’s up?”

---