Free What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Zombier by Allison Wade

Please, love, don’t do anything silly. I’m sure we can work this out. You know I love you.
    You don’t love me, you own me. It’s different. But things are going to change now.
    See, my fucking love, I wanted you to be awake when I’d start. Nothing too complicated, don’t worry, at the end I’m not a sadistic or a torturer; I just want you to see and understand what I’m going to do.
    No big deal, I have to make you disappear. Since you’re big, well, I’ve to cut you into pieces. I will put you in all these pretty black bags, load you on my slutty wreck, and drive to that place where you like to go fishing so much, that hidden spot that only you know. Remember? You brought me there once when we were engaged. Don’t you think it’s a beautiful place where you can spend the eternity? I will dump you there, where the river will welcome you like a loving mother, nothing to compare to that bitch that grew you and crowned you lord of the world.
    What do you say? Shall we start?
    I caress you. You tremble and shake.
    I raise the ax, that’s so damn heavy, and I already know that tomorrow morning my muscles will hurt like hell. But it’s okay; it will be the last pain.
    And then I’ll be free.
     

Scratching
     
     
     
     
    Something is scratching on the wall.
    It’s driving me crazy. Night and day, it scratches.
    I can’t rest, I can’t sleep.
    It’s like a dozen mice. It scratches, it squeals.
    That sound, that horrible sound.
    And I’m here all alone, in this empty house.
    I can hear it even when I’m in my room, at night, it’s muffled but it’s always there.
    However, when I come down here, in the living room, it’s where it becomes unbearable. Like nails on a chalkboard.
    It penetrates my brain, makes my teeth grind. It’s sharp like a blade through my ears.
    I should leave this house, but I can’t. Because of you, my sweet Caroline.
    It’s been ten years since we moved in here. You loved so much these old walls.
    The furniture, the tapestry, the velvet curtains.
    And I loved you.
    You were so wild, and restless. With your big rounded eyes always wandering around the room.
    Your white crumpled clothes, the way you walked with your bare feet, your messy hair, the way you screamed at nothing and clawed my back when I held you.
    I miss you so much, my Caroline.
    Still now I’m here, alone, with this obnoxious scratching sound coming from the living room wall.
    I loved you, sweet Caroline, I’m sorry.
    I’m sorry I had to bury you alive.
    But I’m sure this scratching will go away, eventually.
     

Backache
     
     
     
     
    “I’ve a very bothersome backache, could you take a look?”
    “I don’t see anything strange, except for the knife.”
     

The Mask
     
     
     
     
    She was running in the forest. The man with the white mask was on her tail.
    She rushed through the dark trees, her pace cracking on dry leaves and roots.
    The night was coming.
    The unknown man had been following her since the edge of the woods. She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. Just a pale mask and a black cape. But she felt his whistle and his thirst for blood.
    In the red sky of the dusk, she spotted a small house. She reached the door and started knocking, desperately, crying.
    A man opened; he was pale and skinny, with brown hair and big rounded eyes, deep like pits.
    “Help! Help! The mask, he’s following me!”
    “Stay calm, young lady.” His voice was thin and gentle. “Come inside, I’ll make you some tea.”
    “Thank you, thank you,” she cried with grateful tears.
    “Have a seat,” said the gentle man, warming the teapot.
    She sat down, still shivering.
    A sudden sound made her gasp. “What was that?”
    “Just my old cat.”
    She stood up and went to the next room. The door was open, a bedroom.
    “There’s nothing to see there,” shouted the man.
    On a chair, rested a black cape and, above, a pale white mask.
    There was no other way out, when he closed the