Love Me Deadly - Que Son (ebook reader wifi TXT) 📗

Love Me Deadly

A zombie tale

The New York Times reported on May 20, 2011 that the Center for Disease Control has issued a set of instructions to Americans on how to prepare for emergencies such as hurricanes, earthquakes and various epidemics ---including zombies attacks.

One

So here I am, in a zombie outfit, looking at the two sleeping bodies. Who are they? The woman I love and her other boyfriend. I am standing at the window. The sun is throwing a steady stream of golden light beams into the room and brightens up the spot where the two naked bodies are lying. She is resting her head on his shoulders and he wraps his arms around her. A beautiful sight, I would say. But it's beautiful only if you are an outsider looking in. I am not an outsider. I am her lover, a betrayed lover, so the sight is not beautiful to me, but ugly, even disgusting. So this man is one of her other lovers. I don't know who he is and I don't care to know. What makes me sick is that woman. I died, and she didn't waste any time going to bed with another man. For a long time I have suspected that she never loved me sincerely. But every time I was with her, I forgot about the suspicion and instead devoted myself completely to her. People say love is blind. I was blind for sure. So skillful in playing the love game, she made me believe that I was her only lover all these years. Three and a half years, to be precise. Now look at this.

So, I am going to kill her. And eat her. But I will let the man live because he's innocent, he is her victim, perhaps a sucker like I am.

I am going to eat the woman. I can't help it. I am a zombie, and zombie eats people. But I am not going to eat just anyone, I only want to eat that woman. I love her so much that I must come back from the dead to see her and look what I find: she’s in the arms of another man. Am I angry? Of course I am. Even though I am dead, I am only a human with all the emotional shortcomings of a human: I love and never want to lose the object of my love, in this case, that woman. Like a child who cries when he loses his toy, I cry when I lose my lover. But my cry is infinitely mightier than a child's. I am a soul mortally wounded. That woman wounded me and I am not going to let her get away with it.

The woman turns on her side and has her back toward the man and he embraces her from behind. They are snoring gently. I look at the clock on the night table, it' almost ten in the morning. Most people are already up and going about doing business, except for these two. Perhaps they stayed up until 5 in the morning. I look at the woman's body. I know every square inch and every hair of that body. But apparently, I did not know anything about her heart and mind. I was deceived. I was fooled into believing that she loved me too, the way I loved her. I cannot tell how much of my being has been poured into nurturing this love. I was decimated inside and out, in everyway, because of my love for her.

What I will do to the woman's body is: cut her up in pieces and eat them slowly. I do it to satisfy the thirst for revenge, obviously, but I also want to make sure her body becomes one with me, never parts with me again. The murderous plan is forming in my head while I am standing there looking at her.

The man and the woman are still in their bliss, sleeping like babies, oblivious to the world. And here I am, about to kill to put an end to their happiness and they don't know what's coming at them. But I feel weak. I cannot kill with my bare hands. I need a weapon so I can dispatch the woman with as little force as possible. I have very little strength left in my body, in this decimated zombified body.

So I walk into the kitchen and find a knife. It is a long knife, single-edged blade, and I feel the sharpness: it is sharp enough. The tip of the knife is pointed so I would not have a problem plunging the whole length of the blade into her heart. With the knife in my hand, I come back into the bedroom and stand at the window again, looking at the two bodies. It’s not nice to end someone's life because of jealousy. Not. Not ever. That's what your reason tells you. But reason can never reason with the heart. The heart is hurt and it wants to kill, and you have no choice but to listen to its command. I thirst to kill and eat that woman. I am swallowing my saliva right now.

But how do I end up in this room on a beautiful morning like this with this murderous intent?

Two

I fell in love with this woman three and a half years ago. The exact date was October 14, 20XX. That was the date I first laid my eyes on her and was immediately struck by love. I didn't run after her and beg her to love me back or anything like that. She returned my love willingly and happily as if she was struck by love for me too, as if we both had been waiting and looking for each other since time immemorial. And we had a relationship. It wasn't the best relationship. I knew there is no such thing as a perfect relationship especially when emotion and intimacy are involved. But this love affair was a roller coaster ride; and loving her, I was living the most bizarre, intense, and schizophrenic period of my life. Up and down. Down and up. Up and down. Down and up. With incredible speed. She enjoyed it too. We butchered each other's hearts every chance we got. We spilled each other's blood, so to speak. It might have been sick obsession rather than love, perhaps, but I enjoyed the obsession, I enjoyed being kept under a spell. If I called it love, it was the most selfish and destructive love. Thinking back I don’t think it was true love. As I understand, true love is the most wonderful thing a person can experience, it takes you to heaven and keep you there. This thing between us was nothing like that. It was like two people trapped in the same room torturing each other for no good reason and both enjoyed every moment of it. Sick, but it was a sickness that kept me alive. I had never felt more alive in my life than when I was "in love" with her.

But to make a long story short, right after I died, she immediately invited another lover over as if she had been dying for me to die so she could do so without interference from me. From world of the dead, I saw all of that and I became so angry that I wrestled myself from the grip of death to come back to life--ah, half-dead-half-alive--so I could extract revenge. Yes, revenge. I am going to take her with me to the other world. And I will eat her to make her flesh my flesh, to make her one with me. That way she can never leave me again. Yeah, I am that selfish. Love makes you blind, selfish, savage, cruel, a beast--and that's what happens to me.

Then one day I was killed in a car accident on an isolated road in New Jersey. It was a dark winter day. The snow had been falling steadily since early morning and I was driving toward Philadelphia. I will not go into details of what I did that found me on a deserted country road in New Jersey, traveling to Philadelphia. I lived in the north section of Philadelphia where I met and fell in love with her. I will use a cliche to describe myself: I will die for love. You laugh? But that's how I felt, and I could not say anything different. So on that winter day I was driving to Philadelphia. She was waiting for me at her house in the city. The snow came down heavier and heavier as the day progressed; and near noon, the sight in front of me was white thick. Visibility was zero. I couldn't see the road. All was white around me. So I stopped the car and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. And I sat, with the engine running because I must keep warm. And I sat and sat while listening to the radio. The voice from the radio said the snow would not stop until the next morning and when it's done, it would be 2 feet or more. I felt scared. What the hell am I going to do? Sit here until tomorrow morning, for what? And I couldn't go forward either. I didn't see a thing outside the car window. The snow was beating against the windshield and the wind was howling. It felt like the end of the world. I thought about her. She was waiting for me. I must get to Philadelphia. She might be worrying about me. But I couldn't call her because my phone was dead. I didn't know what time it was. It's getting darker and darker. Tired of sitting inside the car, I stepped out. And bam! I was dead. It happened so fast that I didn't even have time to run a review of my life, like they said ... the story of your life flashes in front of you right before you draw the last breath. Nothing like that happened to me.

When I opened my eyes again, I knew I was dead. Because it felt very weird. I didn't have the sensation that I belonged to the physical world anymore. I remembered how it felt to be alive, I mean you are aware that your body is alive, all the senses are working and you know the body belongs to the earth, to the surrounding. But now I didn't feel that anymore. I had stepped over the threshold and crossed over into another realm. However, it felt nice in this other world. You were kind of floating in the air and you saw things more clearly. Your mind was as transparent as a cloudless sky. I was dead. So this was what death felt like, and I never wanted to go back to life. All my life I had suffered from all kinds of physical and mental hardships, like everyone else, but now in this other world I felt so good, I felt absolutely liberated from the burdens of being alive. For example, I didn't have to get up at 6 in the morning to go to work anymore and I didn't have to debate with myself what to have for dinner on the way home after an exhausting day at work. All worries vanished. I had no complaints being dead.

And I looked at the body I left behind--the bag of bones that I had carried with me all these years, 50, to be exact--lying on the snow-covered ground, all bloody. The body was stuck and twisted in an agonized position under another car. So that was how I was killed: a car from nowhere smashed into me when I was standing outside my