Wearing The Dead

I stared into the mirror and didn’t recognize the face. He said it was mine.
But there were no scars. No stitches.
Just smooth skin… and a terrifying realization. He hadn’t saved me—he’d made me.
I stared into the mirror and didn’t recognize the face. He said it was mine.
But there were no scars. No stitches.
Just smooth skin… and a terrifying realization. He hadn’t saved me—he’d made me.