“You stupid fool, what did you do?” I said furious with myself. Tears appeared in my eyes, but I had to act quickly. There weren't many people out this late, but if someone saw me, I would be so busted.

The fear made me clumsy, but I did my best. I grabbed Frank under his shoulders, and dragged him to the elevator. A bloody trail followed me where I went, and it made me really nervous. Finally, I managed to get him back into the apartment, where I broke down in tears. But I had to clean up the mess in the elevator and the curb outside. Outside I threw up in the bushes, having to stand in the elevator full of blood and horror. This wasn't as easy as I had thought it was. What a mess I had made of my life. But I did what had to be done. Once back in the apartment, I drank a cup of hot milk to calm myself.

I couldn't help it, I fell asleep on the couch. Just before I lost consciousness I thought to myself, that if Frank would wake up as a zombie, I'd just kill him again. But then I would chop his head off. The next moring, I woke around ten o'clock. There were no sounds of Frank, no surprised calls or sounds of him making coffee in the kitchen. Hesitantly I walked to the frontdoor, where I had left Frank for dead, which he was of course, and where I saw him lying still. I kneeled next to him.

“Frank, dear?” I pushed his shoulder. He was breathing, I could hear it. His body felt warm. I pushed him again, but he didn't wake up. But he was alive. I left him there, and, feeling a little shaky, I made myself a breakfast. I was sure he would wake up again, but the question was: what would he be like?

Frank stayed asleep for most of the day. Around five P.M. he got up. His clothes were bloody and torn. He certainly looked like a zombie.

“Mandy? Help me!” I heard him call out. “What the hell happened?” O dear, I thought. I didn't have the energy to clean him up, last night.
“I... I don't know, sweetheart. You came in looking like this, and I left you there, because you smelled like booze. I thought you had been in a bar fight.”
“What? I never go to a bar without you. Why? Why did I do that?”
“We had a fight last night, remember? You didn't want to be with me and stormed out. I was here by myself watching 24. And then you came back looking like that.”
“Right.” He said, looking at me with a funny face. I wasn't sure he believed me, but he turned around and went to the shower. I could only feel relieve, my Frank wasn't a zombie!