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Being something between life and death had its advantages. One of them being that you did not have to sleep. Unfortunately, for Yvette, that would have been a very welcome change from all that had been going on. She had been up all evening, mourning over her humanity and over all the people she had killed. At least, she assumed she killed them all.

When daylight came, at first she initially felt scorn towards the new day. How dare the sun rise after she had done so many bad things the day before! Another day just meant she'd black out and do more damage to more innocent people. She had gotten up just so she could walk to the exit of the bathroom to shake her fist at the new day when something in the mirror caught her eye.

In the mirror, regular ol' Yvette was there, looking slightly green, but still like a person. For a moment, the dead girl had to stare in the mirror, rubbing her eyes gently and refocusing her gaze into the mirror. Most certainly this had not been a dream, had it?

Of course, she still had dried up flecks of blood on her face, which was reminder enough that everything she had done was real. Were she still alive, her cheeks would have flushed upon such a realization, but instead, her cheeks remained cold and that pale hue of green. However, there were no claws to be seen, no dead eyes staring back at her in the mirror, and she looked as alive as she had ever been. It felt like she was being given a second chance!

With a small gay smile upon her gray lips, she attempted to turn on one of the faucets at the sink. Despite the nozzle being turned, nothing came out of the tap. That small smile of hers quickly faded. It would be really bad if she went out with all that blood on her face. So now, how could she clean her face if there was no water.

Yvette, you silly girl! her mind teased. There is still water here, you just are looking in the wrong place. As if her body was once again taken over by a foreign force, her body turned on its own to face the toilets. Her gray lips frowned even more. "R-r-r-really?" she managed to stutter out to herself. In all honesty, she knew that the toilet water really couldn't do much to her. It wasn't like she could get sick, she was already dead. Yet, that still humane part of her was cringing at the idea of using toilet water to clean off her face.

With tiny steps, she edged closer to the toilet and leaned towards it. With her small hands, she splashed some water on her face. She pinched her eyes shut, even though she really had no need to do such. Human instinct had been with her for 18 years, and it was somewhat difficult to break the basic habits like blinking. With her eyes still shut, she began to rub away at her face with the sleeves of her black school uniform sweater.

At least you won't be able to see the blood stains on this she noted mentally, trying to find something positive out of the whole situation. Cautiously, she opened her eyes again, then wandered back to the mirror. She missed a couple spots, but that was easily remedied once she was in front of the mirror.

Though her stomach was aching from hunger yet again, Yvette did the boldest thing she had ever done in her life (or after her life). She went to go find people. She exited the bathroom cautiously, looking right and left as if crossing the street. Satisfied that things were safe for her, she began to wander about the campus again.

The one thing that the dark-haired girl had yet to get used to out of this whole thing was how slow her legs were acting. She couldn't walk properly, despite looking like the average student. Her legs felt so heavy, that each step looked as if she was limping or staggering along. Running, skipping, or any other sort of leg movement was pretty much impossible for her now. A nearly inaudible sigh escaped her lips.

She felt a bit lonely, but also quite high strung. What if she met another student and attempted to attack them as well? If it hadn't been for the fact she was already dead, she would have been convinced that all of these bad things she had done with tally up against her and cause her to plummet to hell. Though she had given up on the notion of hell, she still felt horrible about everything.

She practically stumbled past the charred remains of one of the tall trees, eyes eagerly looking about to find a person. Even if it was someone she didn't know before, she could at least talk to them. Or maybe warn them, depending on how hungry she got when around them.

It was there, just past the charred tree, that she saw him. If she had the voice, she would have shouted to get his attention. If she wasn't so afraid of what he thought, she might have approached him. Topher looked awful. Somewhere in her chest, she felt a pain, though it was probably imagined, since her whole body was dead. She wanted to talk to him, but after what she had done, she knew it wasn't possible. Even with her dulled purple eyes, she looked almost like a green puppy begging for attention. A very sad green puppy.

With wide eyes, the girl watched silently. There wasn't much pain she could pay proper attention to aside from the hunger, but somehow, when Topher fell to his knees, it was too much for Yvette to bear. Her feet knew what she wanted to do and seemed to act accordingly, despite the fact the girl knew that Topher wouldn't want to see her. She was happy he was alive, but he looked so horrible, it must have somehow been her fault.

Had her heart been alive still, she would have probably heard it beating in her head again. She was getting nervous, but her legs did not stop until she was literally standing right in front of Topher.

Regardless of what sort of reaction she was about to get, Yvette got something off her chest: "Topher, I'm sorry!" In her usual manner, her eyes were on the ground, as if ready to receive some sort of punishment for her misdeeds. He had every right to be upset at her, and he had every right to be scared of her. Half the time, she was scared of herself these days, not knowing who she would hurt next.

Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, still quite ashamed with what she had done. She didn't have to look up to realize that he was afraid of her. His voice told volumes in itself, and right now it told her that he wanted nothing to do with her. Even though she had come into this situation fully aware that something like this would happen, it still hurt to think their friendship had broken up in such a fashion.

She didn't move from her spot, but she attempted to correct something he had mentioned. Even though she had told herself she would be good, and that she would tell him everything she could, her voice still stuttered slightly. For being something dead, her emotions were still able to get the best of her.

"Y-y-you were told r-right before." She clenched her hands tightly against her skirt as she stood there. It was hard for her to admit something so strange.

"I... I'm not sick."

There was a long, awkward pause. She wanted to be able to look at him. Her head felt so heavy right now though. So as best as she could, she attempted to look up from where her head was hanging.

"I...I-i'm dead. I...I d-d-don't have a p-pulse..."

Her eyes sank heavily, this time out of self pity more than anything else. If anything, she wanted to cry again. However, the girl had promised herself she wouldn't cry. This was supposed to be a good day. You did not cry on good days!

Yvette wished she could smile. She wished she could smile every time her friend attempted to look at the optimistic side. Tried to find any excuse as to why she would be doing everything she had done so far. Topher had always been like that, trying to find the best of any situation presented to him. However, this wasn't any math paper he was having problems with, it was Yvette.

Even the votes of confidence seemed to go unnoticed, for the dark-haired girl knew the truth. The mirror did not lie to her. Her monstrous hunger in her stomach also did not lie. Yvette was a monster now. An undead monster.

She wanted to prove herself to him, but as always, she was shooting down any possible option, labeling each idea as "not good enough." Her hands which had been gripping tightly to the plaid cloth of her skirt began to shake slightly as she let out a couple of silent sobs. So much for not crying today.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry..." she whimpered out miserably. Assuming he wanted nothing more to do with her, she turned away and began to slow departure. Those stupid legs of hers just never wanted to cooperate with her.

It was a natural reaction to stop in place when someone called out "Wait" at you. Her body ceased staggering forward for a bit as she listened to her friend's pleas of desperation. The ever still heart in her chest felt heavy somehow, but it must have been her imagination, because she was dead. Slowly, her face turned to face her friend.

"I. I can't promise anything. I... I don't even trust myself anymore..."

How could she promise something so simple to him? Each time her friends had disappeared, Yvette had completely blacked out. Making such a promise would be irresponsible on her part. Even with Topher being safe, she had done some pretty bad things to Kimmie and Azzo. The splatter paint of crimson on her face the evening before was proof enough of that.

Even with such thoughts in her mind, she wanted to smile towards Topher, wanted to reassure him that he'd be safe. It would be a hollow reassurance, because she really didn't know if he would be safe. Her lips refused to cooperate though. Instead of a smile, a tiny frown was on her lips. In fact, the frown quivered a bit as she forced back the sensation of sobbing. All this managed to do was make it look as if she still wanted to cry.

Her dull, purple-gray eyes followed along Topher's motions, watching as if they were just drawn to the movement rather than watching in actual interest. His offer was a good one, and she really wanted to say it was an excellent idea. However, she could still find a flaw in the concept.

A pool stick would require her to actually hold it in place. She'd consciously have to be able to keep it in her mouth. Yvette was actually more certain that if she blacked out again, that would be the least likely thing her body would actually attempt to do.

"No... it won't work..." she uttered softly as she pushed the stick back in his general direction.

She heaved out a sigh, as if trying to push all the frustrations out of her dead-body. If only there was a way to hold her mouth shut against her will. The concept was good if Yvette was consciously able to complete the task, but she needed something that would remain in place, even if she wasn't aware of what she was doing.

It was then that something clicked in her mind.

She seemed to eye her own uniform. That in itself seemed okay, but when the girl reached for the bottom portion of her skirt and began to tear at the cloth as best as her hands could, one might have questioned what she was doing. It was surprising how much strength Yvette's little pale green hands had, considering the cloth was quite tough and durable. All the same, the cloth tore easily enough, and soon enough the dark-haired girl's skirt was shorter all around. Shyly, she offered the torn cloth to her friend. She didn't explain what he was supposed to do with it and seemed to avoid eye contact. All she offered was "I... I don't want to hurt anymore people..."

Yvette already was aware that her plan was a bit on the strange side. So hearing him basically repeat what her mind had decided on earlier seemed to create a reaction of embarrassment and shyness in the girl. If there was still living blood running through her body, her cheeks would have been instantly flooded with color. Instead, they remained that neutral pale green color. Her mouth attempted to reply, but her voice seemed to have shrunk down even further to the point it was practically invisible.

Realizing her voice was not cooperating, she vigorously nodded her head up and down. She still couldn't even look him in the face. It was a horrible request, and a horribly degrading request in all honesty.

It was about this time that her hand began to tremble before it reached up to clutch onto her stomach. It really hurt, and the stabbing pains were only getting stronger and stronger. The temptation to look at Topher, to draw herself close and feel his warm skin pulsed through her body.

No! That isn't right! she mentally scolded herself before beginning to dig her nails deep into the cloth and skin that her hand was clutching about her stomach.