Source
The room was plunged into darkness, with only the flickering light from the ceiling illuminating your inert face.
I approached you slowly, my hands trembling as I removed the bandages covering your face.
Your marble-cold skin still retained that soft touch I remembered. I wiped away the dirty marks with a damp cloth, caressing your face carefully, as if you were about to break. But your eyes remained empty, lifeless.
“You're ready,” I whispered, putting away my tools. I felt no fear, but a strange emotion coursing through me.
I covered you with a white sheet, but before doing so, I stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you crying if you are no longer alive?”, I asked the silence.
I turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. “I liked touching your dead skin again,” I confessed with a wail.
Suddenly, a thud echoed behind me. I turned around, cold sweat running down my back. But there was nothing...until I heard it.
A hollow thump coming from under the sheet covering you. My heart stopped as the fabric began to move, slowly lifting, as if something was being incorporated underneath.