Zombie

The hollow emptiness would simply not go away. It persisted, all through the night, and whilst one may have thought it would disappear during the daytime, it was still there. Not quite so dramatically, nor quite so forcefully eating away at her soul, yet omnipresent just the same. Strengthening, as her thoughts grew darker with the nightfall.

In the middle of the night, it was terrifying. She was but a shivering shell, shaking with loss. She was devoid of emotion. She was devoid of all senses. There was only her and the pain, the pain that trembled through her. Her heart no longer pulsated as a heart, didn't send warm blood flowing through her veins. It was a dirty, metallic machine, encrusted with grime and dirt. It chugged and puffed as it worked, poisoning her slowly. It was black ooze that rushed through her veins, sloshing inside her, the oil to her rusting system. She survived only on the black ooze, leeched off it like an addict. There was no other direction to face. No other door to turn to. No secret back alley to escape the never-ending cycle in the hell that her life had become.

Each day, it became so that she could only will herself to go through the motions in autopilot, because she didn't have the power to think, to operate independently. She was drained, nearly completely. She was going to start fading away soon. There was no one that acted to help her, though some were mildly concerned. But they didn't care, not enough, anyway. Who was she to them? Just another person, silently stalking the streets with blank eyes and a dead brain. A reject of society – a reject of life. A pariah. A zombie.