Deadgirl’s Blog

Tuesday, September 04, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

I never thought it would happen to me. Damn that Tommy Barker. Always grabbing at me. So we stopped over at Allston Park and went down to the beach to you know. Ever since I gave him that blowjob after Laura Murphy’s birthday party a month ago, he’s been determined to get another one. But I was drunk that night and besides he didn’t want to pull out before–

Never mind. The point is this–we went down to the beach and suddenly there was this old guy stumbling out of the dunes like some kind of drunk or maybe perv, and Tommy–that fuck–ran off with his dick hanging out and left me there with my pants halfway down.

Turns out this old guy wasn’t a drunk (though he might have been a perv–at least at some point). He was one of those. You know. Those Deaders that’s been on the internet and in the paper. One of those things my dad is always warning me to stay clear.

But there he was. Dead as home-made shit and stumbling around in his stinky, wet clothes. He was on his knees before I could get my jeans buttoned. Then he clamped his teeth into my calf. He ruined my best jeans–the ones Mother picked up at Hollister. That bastard dumbshit tore a hole right through those jeans and took a piece of my leg with him.

You know, I don’t think I even realized he was a Deader until I kicked him. Right in the side of the head, just like he was a soccer ball, and he let go right away, but only because his lower jaw came loose on that side. I remember standing there a second a0nd watching his rotted black tongue sort of waggle and flap around. Then I ran. It didn’t really even hurt that much. The ER doc (who did not look like George Clooney, BTW) said that was likely because of the adrenaline rush I had. But now I’m just high on the pills he gave me. He gave my mother a little bottle of pills, too. To add to her collection.

Anyway, Tommy had the car running already. Good ol’ Tommy. How manly of him, BTW. Idiot. And then had the nerve to bitch about me getting blood all over the floorboard of his Xterra. He dropped me off in front of the ER entrance and sped away with my purse and my phone. I had to use a greasy payphone to call my dad.

Boy, you should have seen the look on my parents’ faces when they picked me up. You’d thought I was caught screwing the entire Varsity and J.V. football team at a church picnic.

“What are we going to do with you, Audrey?” Mother said. She was crying, but she did that sometime anyway and usually for no real reason. But they seemed to think the whole thing pretty dire.

I sighed, rolled my eyes in the backseat of Dad’s Beemer, and watched as the bloodspot was already growing wide and dark through the bandage.

That sonofabitch ruined my best jeans. Did I mention that?

Posted at 09/04/2007 11:52:34 pm by deadgirl
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Wednesday, September 05, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­______________________________

It’s not like those stupid movies. The Deaders haven’t ovtaken the world–at least not yet. We still go to school. Our parents still work and go out to the country club and pretend to play golf when they are really there to socialize, impress one another and swill martinis. Us kids? Well, we still go to football games and clubs and to the mall.

The Deaders have become this weird, nagging environmental problem, like global warming or beach erosion. It makes good headlines, but it usually doesn’t touch you personally. That is. As long as you are careful.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all of that. Unless you live under a rock, you’ve heard about it.

Geez. I can’t believe I let this happen. I made Tommy keep condoms in his glovebox , but didn’t think to make him check for Deaders behind the dunes. Obviously, our sex wasn’t all that safe.

I’ve been reading some stuff about what’s supposed to happen to a person once they’ve been infected. It doesn’t sound good.

I’m a little scared.

Monday, I go back to school. I hope big-mouth Tommy hasn’t told anyone.

Posted at 09/05/2007 09:03:59 pm by deadgirl
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Monday, September 10, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­________________________________

Tommy Barker, that weasel. He told. He told everyone and what’s worse, he told what we were doing before it happened.

Cheryl Lindsey laughed. The slut. “I guess your not gonna be Homecoming Queen this year,” she said.

It never dawned on me; but it’s was true. I’ll probably not be around for Homecoming.

Or graduation. Or college.

Oh, shit.

I’m going to be a Deader. A fucking nasty ol’ Deader.

When I got home this afternoon, Cindy was in my room. I think she was already deciding which of my things she wants to keep and what she plans to throw out. My room is a lot bigger than hers is. She’ll move right in once I’m gone.

Posted at 09/10/2007 04:14:09 pm by deadgirl
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Tuesday, September 11, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­________________________________

Something weird happened this morning when I was getting ready for school. First, I’ll tell you, I’m looking fairly sallow, like I haven’t been to the tanner in months. My skin is for shit and I’m wearing more makeup than normal. Anyway, the strange thing was, when I put on my lip-gloss, my lips just started cracking. Like chapped lips, but ten times worse. And this icky black stuff came oozing out.

I ran and told Mother and she gave me a tissue and said, “It’s only going to get worse, dear. Now don’t make me late for work.” She’s an anchor for the local news, so she thinks she knows everything about everything because she can read some copy.

Oh well. School was long and I felt tired all day. Chloe and Sarah and the rest of the squad (except for Cheryl, who wants my spot as head cheerleader) pretended sympathy, but I heard them laughing when I got up from the table in the cafeteria and dumped my tray. I’m not sure why I got lunch anyway. I’m certainly not hungry for…pizza. Barf!

You know, the upside of this entire thing is this. I don’t think Tommy Barker will be hassling me for another B.J.

Posted at 09/11/2007 03:35:33 pm by deadgirl
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Friday, September 14, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_________________________________

Friday and no calls. God, I ended up going to the mall with Cindy and her dumb friend Kendra, who is this fat little geek–not unlike my sister, BTW–who enjoyed detailing what I might experience next during my–transformation. Never thought I would resort to paling around with my weirdo 14 year-old sis on the weekend. I think I know what it feels like to be ugly now. I mean, I haven’t changed that much, but something is…off. These guys were trailing us in front of the A.E. store and when I turned around, they looked-well, fucking surprised. And not in a good way. I suppose I still check out from behind.

I guess I could blame it on who I was with. That’s what would have done a month ago, anyway.

Geefuckingwhiz, I wish I were dead.

I mean all the way dead.

Posted at 09/14/2007 11:03:19 pm by deadgirl
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September 17, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­________________________________________

It’s more and more difficult to get myself together for school. This morning when I was brushing my hair, some came out.

Actually, a lot came out.

And some of my scalp.

I called Mother and she came in, smiling this big fake-assed smile and suggested I wear a hat today. I dug my pink Kangaroo golf cap ( that’s not especially cool any more, BTW) , then realized my blouse didn’t match, so I had to change it, also. Plus, my head sort of oozed this stick, yellowish crap from where the scalp had come off, and I had to stick a bandage over it.

I ended up late.

Do you know what its like to walk in late front of a class full of kids when you’re dead?

Somebody giggled. Now I truly know what the losers felt like when I would laugh at them and make those little comments.

For some reason, I haven’t been making so many clever little comments lately. It’s like my brain isn’t working as quickly as it had been.

Gym class was a bitch from hell. For the first time in my life, I could not run. I was slow. Awkward. I felt like a fool. It was like my muscles had forgotten how to function. And in volleyball, too. I lettered in girl’s volleyball last year.

Cheryl, that slut. I heard her say, “Way to move, Lurch. Has rigor mortis already set in?”

Then after lunch, I went to my locker and saw that some wit had written “Audrey Scott has crotch rot” across the front.

Clever. Anyway, I decided then to hell with it and left early. Another “plus,” if you can call it that, to this whole Deader thing is this–you don’t get into trouble for cutting class. But Cindy nearly had an aneurysm and went whining to Dad that I was getting special treatment because I’m turning into a zombie.

She’d better what out. I’ll bite her and take her right down with me.

Actually, I am somewhat peckish.

Posted at 09/17/2007 02:45:11 pm by deadgirl
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September 25, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­________________________________________

Well, the school thing is over. It’s too difficult to be ridiculed. Teased. Mocked. I’ve never been treated that way. It was as though they hated me. Cindy suggested they might just all be a little afraid. Of me. Of what they might become.

Cindy feels a little sorry for me, so she is just being nice. They hate me.

Nobody calls.

My father switches off the news when I come into the room. I guess he thinks seeing footage of those Deaders will upset me. And those commercials–those bizarre funeral homes where they don’t even put the dead in the ground because the dead are still walking around. Now, your loved ones can be put away. People are so sentimental. They can’t part with anything, even the dead. Like an old pair of pants. You always hope they come back into style. Same way with the Deaders–you hold on to them and hope they come up with some sort of cure.

Those places show rolling green pastures, but they actually show any Deaders. Deaders aren’t very pretty.

Posted at 09/25/2007 05:08:01 pm by deadgirl
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October 22, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­___________________________________________

Someting is going on with my head. It feels like I have maggots in there. Squirming. I canot always think of the words I want. I can’t rememmber how to spel everything.

Stood for a lomg time and looked at meself in the mirow. So ugly now. Bkack & sticky drool driped off me chin and I didn;t wipe it away, It doesn’t matter.

Mom & Dad did not cume into my ruum today. They hadRosey leave a steak on my dressser when she clened up. she crosses hersef when i lok at her & sayz some prayer in spannish.

The steke was not cooked and it waz soo gode. I felt lik i had not eaten in 1000 years.

I lcked the blood from the plate and my fingers, two.

Posted at 10/22/2007 09:17:56 am by deadgirl
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October 25, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­___________________________________________

dor is lockt frum te outside.

Hard to tink. harder to rite thsi–i ate the padz off of all me fingerz tips. Starving to fuking deth,

Roeys brot those big ol diapers to me cauz this blak stuf is coommin out of my ass.

Carpets all ruined in hear

I cannoot go to slep anymor. I twitch all the tim. never stop. Like a spaz.

Hungry. Stakes do’t make me full lipz r gon. I ate thme in my sleep, suked on them. & my cheek.

Nobody cals.

Posted at 10/25/2007 11:43:08 am by deadgirl
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Cindy99’s LJ

October 28, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­___________________________________________

Audrey cannot write anymore.

School has closed now, at least for a while, until they can get the number of Deaders under control.

Audrey bit Rosie’s cheek off last night and made a run for it. Poor Rosie. She’ll be a Deader, too. Dad paid to have her sent back to Ecuador or wherever she came from.

It’s sad. She has grandchildren.

Audrey. I felt odd, outside of myself when I saw her flash by my door. I had not seen her in weeks. It was like seeing a scary movie.

She stood in the front yard, naked save for a pair of Depends. Black stuff ran down her legs. It seemed to be oozing from all her openings–her ears, nose, mouth. Her breasts, once the popular set of boobs at Lincoln High, BTW, hung like small pouches. Her ribs showed through where the skin had decayed or had been picked away. She had lost all of her hair.

She twirled around and round on the lawn, her arms stretched out wide and she screamed.

She looked as though she was smiling at first, and then I realized her lips were gone completely.

I closed my blinds.

I don’t feel as bad for her as I do for myself. I don’t want to become like her.

Mom and Dad managed to get her back inside without being infected. They looked scared and very tired and I think we will all be glad when this is over. Just like when Grandma had Alzheimer’s. At a point, it was just better if she were gone. (I’m still sort of afraid she’ll show up, dead and even more scary than before.) Anyway, Dad has called one of those places in the Upstate. I overheard him telling Mom how expensive it is to keep her there, but they can’t seem to let go just yet. They are going to use Audrey’s college fund to pay for it. Someone is coming to pick her up tomorrow and will take her back there.

I’ve decided I don’t want her room, afterall. I hear her in there now, screaming, cursing. I hear things breaking.

You know, I’ve always been the smart one anyway. I swear, if I’ve learned anything from this whole thing, it’s never fuck at the beach without checking behind the dunes first.

Posted at 10/28/2007 02:20:17 pm by cindy99
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