My Necromancer Wife

I stagger along the endless stairway before me.

Curse the stairs. The stairs in the entire bloody school are always so steep and tedious - funny I've never noticed until I dislocated my knee.

I can't get the images I just saw out of my head.

So many dead people - zero percent success rate, now me.

I hear some voices coming from the landing above me.

"-yeah, he thought I was inviting him to the party. Bro fell for it, hook line and sinker. I'm just glad the responsibility of finding the next host is off my shoulders".

The same deep voice - it's definitely him. And he's talking about me like I am some stupid fool he stumbled upon and duped, not a man whose life is hanging in limbo.

"-he's not like the others though. He wasn't pleading and begging, he seemed pretty calm about everything to me". His companion says.

A deep, mocking laugh erupts from the other guy.

"-only because Bro had no idea what was going on. He's new to the school - which made him an ideal lamb to lead to the slaughter - innocent and ignorant".

I grit my teeth, fisting my hands so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

The motherfucker is going to die today if I have my way.

"-there's something about him, though. Something dangerous. He isn't one of the freaked out teens we usually see... he's, you know, matured. And for the record, the guy grasped the situation fast enough - faster than most".

The companion might survive if he runs fast enough as my way of thanking him for defending me.

The only thing that might get in the way of my sweet revenge is my stupid limp.

"-he grasped it a little too late, don't you think? I wonder how he's going to die, though. Do you-"

Before he can finish, my fist slams into the side of his head.

He had his back to me and was too busy being smug to notice me coming up behind.

His friend had seen me coming but had been too overcome with guilt to warn the other guy.

His head slams against the railing with a loud thud before he rolls down the stairs.

The other guy raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping backward cautiously.

With a sigh, I walk past him and limp up the stairway.

It was never my intention to spare him, but here I am, doing exactly that.

The stairs no longer seem so endless as restless energy courses through me.

I keep thinking of the things I could have done to the guy, but didn't.

The rational part of me had been thinking of the consequences while the radical part of me - the prevalent part, just not this time - wanted to see blood spill on the paved stone.

And... I had been so fucking close. So close.

I reach the door to my room and knock - just to know if it's safe.

A lazy grunt from within is all the answer I need.

I open the door and walk in. The scent of freshly boiled noodles wafts to my nostrils.

My roommate is sitting cross-legged on his bed with a bowl in his hand, slurping down the noodles noisily. His phone is placed at an angle, supported by a pile of two books as he watches a live football match.

He barely acknowledges me, and I'm glad he doesn't.

I'm dusty and dirty with a bleeding hand and a broken knee.

I drop my cloak and brooch on the bed, eager to put a distance between myself and the future looming ahead.

I head into the shower quietly, locking the door.

My reflection stares back at me through the mirror, handsome yet mocking.

Slowly, my reflection starts grinning at me. I step backward, realizing that I'm not smiling.

But the image doesn't go away. The smile gets darker, more wicked.

It doesn't move when I move, doesn't blink when I do.

It just stares at me with knowing eyes.

My heart starts pounding again. Without thinking, I smash my fist into the mirror.

It cracks slowly, spreading until it falls to pieces with a shattering noise.

"Is everything okay in there?" My roommate calls out to me.

I don't respond.

I take a moment to steady my breathing as I lean my head against the wall.

My knuckles are bleeding from the impact it suffered.

There's a knock on the door.

I ignore it.

I look down at the mirror shards scattered everywhere.

I stagger back when I still see my own eyes reflecting back at me with the same wicked gleam as before.

It's just as if I shattered the image into several bits, but I did not destroy it.

Frustrated, I smash the bits with my booted feet, hoping to destroy those eyes... that smile.

Another knock. It's more persistent than the last.

I press my hands against my ears to shut out all noise except that of my panting and roaring pulse.

Then, the door bounces open, slamming against the wall - but I don't hear it, I only feel the vibration.

I don't look back to see who it is, preferring to focus on the blood trickling down the back of my hands.

A hand rests on my shoulder.

A biting remark hovers at the tip of my tongue, thinking it is my roommate.

As I turn around, I see Toshiro standing there.

His face remains an unreadable mask. Behind him is my nosy roommate struggling to see beyond Toshiro.

I know I look insane. Is this why all the test subjects before me killed themselves?

Toshiro raises an eyebrow.

I can feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, the reassuring pressure, but the only thing that could help me at this point would be to wake up from this nightmare and be assured that it is just a dream.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

I envy his calm demeanor - the way he can keep a level-head in the worst situations.

I nod unconvincingly, unsure of how my story would be received if I tell him.

Fortunately for me, he doesn't question me further.

"Things are much worse, Furuno. The beasts have escalated faster than we hoped. The more time we spend here, the more the Apocalypse spreads. We have to gather a few people and leave. I already enlisted someone powerful. Have you found anyone?"

My response gets stuck in my throat as I hear the voice again. This time it's clearer than before.

"You're not walking out of here, at least... not alive".