#zombie!kid

Monty remembers it. The feeling of a mop piercing into his chest, the crazed look on that old man’s face, the betrayal that shone off his classmate, after that, he felt empty. His flesh was almost ripped out his body. He stayed as a mere zombie, a shell of the human child he once was. Now, forced to endure the looks from each of his classmates, and seeing the very person who continued his violent fate.

His skin now mere rot, a sickening, disgusting green coated his skin. His entire body felt withered and gross. A line ran through his vision, a crack through his glasses, a reminder of what was made of him. Even his sight weakened, causing him to sit around the class idly, earning odd glances from his peers.

His hands tightened around his arms, staring blankly down at the desk before him. Everything surrounded him yet, it felt so empty. Monty couldn't decipher whether the sickening feeling in his stomach was the eerie sense of his new being, or the feel of rot growing on his skin.

Why, why, why, wh--

...A hand brushed onto his shoulder. His eyes snapped over to the boy. His green hand reaching over to him, his other waving as if they were friends.

That monster wasn't his friend. No. No. No.

No.

He was a monster who turned him into one himself. A disgusting, vile "human". His glare stabbed through him, pressing up his palm off the desk and swatting him away, a hand brushing harshly over the other kids rotten skin.

Monster. Monster. Monster. Danger. Danger. Danger.

"Monty--"

Monty's glare only tightened further onto the other boy, a sign to back off and walk away. He watched as Kid walked over to somewhere else, his solemn mood rather noticable. Monty didn't care. He turned him into this. He should feel that. He should feel worse. He knew that. He was sure he did too.

Yet, at the end of the day.

They were both still hardly human.

Monty stared forward at the blank wall, his eyes hardly able to make out the blurry pictures on the wall that were framed there to try and teach him things he already knew. This place was practically useless to him now. It only brought him into a deeper despair by staying.

Instead, he heard someone else approach. A quick voice, followed by quicker steps.

"Okay! Okay!! I'll go check on him. I was gonna wait till recess, but if you guys are so sure.. Don't blame me when he gets all defensive."

A comforting hand fell onto his shoulder, Jerome's voice clearly being linked to the palm connected to Monty's jacket. His eyes stayed down, however. This didn't mean anything.. He was still.. This.

"Hey." Jerome's smile was audible at this point. "Don't let that new kid get on your nerves." He already had. "You feeling alright?" No.

Silence fell upon the two, Monty not daring to utter a single word, and Jerome's palm growing sweaty with his awkward demeanour practically shining onto Monty like they were soul tied.

Then, a snicker came from Jerome, followed by a scoff. "Oh yeah! You guys are right--" What had someone told him..? "Monty has totally lost his.."

Jerome's eyes settled onto the back of his skull, a bloodied gap staring back into his eyes. Vomit crawled up his throat, eyes widening from the sight of the gaping hole in his head. His hand stayed onto Monty's hair, frozen for a second like his whole world had just shattered in mere seconds.

"HRKK--" Jerome's feet slammed across the room, landing him in a crouched manner on the floor, he covered his mouth whilst trying not to vomit. His friend was a zombie! A dead one! An actual zombie! A hole in his skull and- and--

...

Monty looked back at him, his eyebrow raised. Before it settled on him what Jerome had seen. It made enough sense. He was an undead creature after all.

Why would anyone want to be around something as undead as him?

Other than another undead thing. One that he couldn't bring himself to forgive. Because, well, why would he?