Our Undead by Theo Vigo

gives pretty much
the same look as she did when running it under the hot water. She
moans and squeezes her eyes shut to calm the sting, and after a
proper rinse, takes her foot out from under the water again. This
time, before turning off the tap, she rinses out the washcloth for
a moment, wrings it and wipes off her leg. She rinses and wrings it
out one more time, and then wraps it around the sliced part of her
ankle, tying a firm but comfortable knot around it. She looks at
her bloody sock and tosses it away, not wanting to put that
disgusting thing back on her foot. And then she remembers that her
mother should be wearing socks.
    Decided, she jumps off of
the counter and hops over to her mom's body, all the while being
watched and taunted by the caught cretin in the door. She bends
down and takes off her mom's right shoe, rips the sock off in one
swoop like a Band-Aid, and puts it on her own foot, then hops back
over to the counter and jumps back up on to her place beside the
sink. She takes her shoe and gently slips it back on. She didn't do
the best job tidying her cut, but at least it doesn't look as bad,
and she is pretty sure that it isn't infected… with any thing. She's just
going to have to be easy on it for a while. She drops her dressed
foot down to meet the other and lets them both dangle in the air
above the kitchen floor.
    She stays there for a
second, sitting and thinking on the kitchen counter. Our zombie has
yet to stop growling and reaching out for her. While staring at
him, she glides smoothly off of the counter's rough and dusty
surface, and without averting her gaze, makes her way back to the
spot on the ground where she had slept. There, she sits down and
studies him very intensely.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: So, what the hell is your deal?
    She gets the same response
that she has been getting from the zombie since the first time they
laid eyes on each other. Even while she slept through the night, he
hollered for her. Had she not been so tired, she might have not
been able to sleep due to the incessant noise. His free arm flails
and reaches, and the one caught on the hall side tries it's best to
reach over into the living room.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: You know,.. I could kill you. I could use almost
anything around here, and I could take my time. It wouldn't even
have to be sharp. That would just be too easy.
    Our zombie growls on,
failing to understand her words. She points to a toaster sitting on
the kitchen counter to make it easier for him.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: That toaster… See it? It's not sharp… but I could
take that toaster and beat you with it till your head caves in… and
there wouldn't be one thing you could do about it… because you're
stuck… You're helpless.
    She gets to her
feet.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: You're helpless, just like me.
    She begins limping her way
toward the prisoner.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: Well, not exactly. You're the one who's stuck in
a door, after all.
    She stops walking when she
reaches just outside of our zombie's reach, and dodges his attempts
to grab at her with his free hand.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: I gotta tell you though... *dodge* … "Helpless" isn't even
the word to describe how I feel… *dodge* … "Hopeless",
maybe. *dodge*
    His meal is so close he can
taste it, and he becomes a little crazed by the young girl's
taunting, swinging his arm harder and letting out a strange barking
like noise. The girl decides to take a calm step
backward.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: Naw, "helpless" isn't something I feel anymore. I
can't… The only thing I have now is myself, thanks to you… But I
can't put all of the blame on you. You didn't start this whole
nightmare.
    She backs up a couple more
steps.
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: This isn't your fault… I won't kill you… yet.
I've seen enough death in the last week to last a lifetime… my life time, at
least.
    OurZombie: GrrrrooowwaaaaoorrrrrrAaa!!!!!!
    LongBlondeHairedGirl: But then what should I do with
you?
    Just then a