For the second day in a row, Mackenzie O'Connell woke up to the sound of birds singing. The scene felt all too familiar, for some reason, and her half-conscious mind felt around groggily for an explaination. School? Naw... her alarm hadn't gone off. Must be a Saturday.

Time to roll over and go back to bed. Screw you birds, too early.

Shifting a little, Mack paused, surprised to find she couldn't move very well. Like she was covered in something really heavy. Really really heavy. The weight felt like it should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't, not really. It was just there, weighing on her. Jesus, how many blankets had she needed last night. It must have been cold as hell... maybe BP had forgotten to turn the heaters on again. That had been a laugh. And she was achy too. ********, was she achy. God dammit, no more ******** ice skating, she didn't care how cute they were, that was the last time she fell on her ******** a**. That must have been it, she had caught a cold going ice skating with... Fluffy? Yahya? She couldn't remember...

Wiggling from underneath what she thought was a blanket, Mackenzie flailed out an arm, sitting up with some effort, grunting with the force as she pushed snow off of her, grumbling and peering up at the sunlight. God damn sun coming through the ... wait. The auburn hair girl paused, her entire body going still.

s**t. She was still on the second floor. From that morning. That morning.

She didn't have to look, and yet those green eyes still turned down to stare at her hands, now a light shade of green, more olive than the grotesque puke color of the zombies she had fought. The formerly-living BP student attributed it to laying in the snow for... judging by the amount of snow that had fallen, several days. Her body hadn't had the chance to get a good grip on decomposition yet. In a twisted way, that was kind of a reassuring thought, although it was swept away quickly by the sense of dread which had crashed down onto her head.

She was one of them. What an ironic twist of fate. <********, I need a drink."

Standing shakily, Mack groaned softly, shaking the snow off herself like a dog and making a comical wince-y face when she noticed the dried blood on the front of her uniform. Shiiiit, Elle really had EATEN her. EATEN her. Reaching up, pale green fingers brushed her severed jugular, feeling the flaps of skin that hung from it. Oh yeah. Definitely eaten. For a moment, the auburn hair girl shifted from foot to foot, weighing both sides of the scale. Well, actually, in a way, it was kind of cool. She was still alive, in a way, still able to move and think and breath. Ok, not breath. But she wasn't cold. And she wasn't tired. And she wasn't hungry. ... yet. Oh, well yeah that was kind of a dampening thought.

Bringing her hands to her face again, she scrunched her face a little before letting them drop again. For some reason, as a zombie, things didn't weigh so much on her. She didn't feel as terribly depressed, nor terribly guilty. She knew she had smashed Elle's neck in with a bat (although to be fair, she just ate her, so maybe she'd call it even on that one.) She knew she'd shot Andeon. But for some inexplicable reason... it didn't matter. Maybe it was a zombie symptom. And welp, what could you do? That was that. Guess it was time to scrounge around, see what was up. Mmm, maybe there were some leftovers lying around...

Always look on the bright side of half-life.