I'm not quite sure when my life became the Walking Dead, but I do know that it's my fault. I stare at the small house I've lived in my whole life. It still looks the same on the outside. The clean white stucco that's power washed by my dad every summer and the lawn is perfectly manicured by him as well. My mother's beautiful gardening skills don't go unnoticed by anyone passing by. She's got a green thumb for sure, and I don't just mean figuratively speaking. In fact I see her entire green hand waving from the window. The curtains sway as the bright red door swings open. She looks just as dead as she did this morning, but still smiles when she sees me.

"You're going to miss dinner," she says, waving her arms in the air.

"I'll be right in."

A white flyer rustles in the wind on the telephone pole next to me. I glance over and a cute little curly white haired puppy with a pink collar stares at me from the picture. Cut out pieces on the bottom of the flyer are full and have a phone number written neatly in black sharpe. I've seen a lot of these lately, it's like almost every telephone pole has a missing pet flyer. I shake the thought and head into the house.

My older brother Stefan stands in the doorway in an old football jersey from his "glory days" in High School. His green complexion and newly formed muscles pop through the old jersey. I can't tell if they realize what they've all become.

A strange scent hits my nose as I enter the house, in fact I've noticed that a lot lately too. My mom has been cooking up some strange recipes since the incident. In the kitchen she's got a huge pot on the stove and looks like a witch leaning over her cauldron to make poison. Dad sits at the table covered by the newspaper, his green rotting hands wrapped around the paper. It's been a month and I still can't figure out how to fix it all.

"Incoming!"

Stefan calls from behind me. I'm knocked in the head by a football, his strength has also oddly increased, but his strange limp is getting worse. I stare at my family as they all gather in the kitchen. Mom is now pouring strange looking red soup into bowls. Her cooking was almost as spectacular as her gardening, but lately it's been awful. However, there's only so many days I can eat fast food instead of coming home.

I rub along the spot where my brother nailed me with a ball, "What happened to not playing ball in the house?" I question.

"I'm not a kid Sally. I'm a grown man," he says.

He should be in college, but one thing led to another and he decided college wasn't for him. Before my family changed he had just found a job, but the day he woke up green it's like he'd forgotten all about it. Both of my parents are retired, so at least they didn't have a job to worry about.

We sit at the table and I stare down at the strange concoction in front of me.

"Mmm," I say, smiling. "What did you make tonight?"

"Oh, it's a new recipe," she says, just like she repeats every night I ask.

"Smells really good," I say, through gritted teeth.

"Thanks sweetheart. I'm thinking of bringing it to the potluck dinner at the Harrisons next week," she says.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure they will love it," I lie.

I lift the silver spoon to my lips, my gag reflexes are hating me so bad right now. The moment the stuff hits my tongue something strange - almost like fur is in my mouth. I stare down into the red liquid and stir it around. A small hairball floats to the top of the bowl. I jump up so fast I knock the chair over. Thankfully the bathroom is close and I make it in time to throw up everything I ate for the day.

I decide instead of eating to go out in the back and get some fresh air. Our backyard is just as gorgeous as the front, minus the eye sore of a tent he's set up in the back corner. I check back at the door to see if they are coming to check on me. I forget sometimes they act a bit zombie-like now. I trudge through the soft grass and pull back the curtain of the tent. On a large white table are animal collars. I pick them up inspecting each one. A small gray hairball sits on a brown collar and my stomach churns again. I keep walking through checking each collar as I do. The missing animals, the gray hairball matching the one in my soup, what is going on? I look more closely at the table and one collar catches my eye over the rest, it's pink like the dog had on in the missing flyer out front. Now my stomach really hurts and it's time to confront a bunch of hungry zombies.

I turn to tell them that they can't eat people's pets, only to be stopped by my three decaying green family members.

"You guys can't just go around eating people's pets, that's just weird."

The three of them look at me with hungry eyes.

"Then what do you suggest we eat?"

Little bits of drool escape all three of their mouths and I know exactly what they are looking for. They are hungry for some kind of meat, some kind of blood and it's all my fault. I'm not sure how it came to this, but there's got to be a way I can fix it. You know what they say; you shouldn't bring your work home with you, and I literally did. We were working on a new breakthrough in treating illnesses and somehow came up with the formula to create zombies. Science is weird like that.

"Can we stick to animals that are not someone's beloved pet?" I ask them.

"But they have more meat," mom says.

"And they taste better," dad argues.

"How do you think I got so jacked?" My brother adds, holding up his arms to show off his "guns".

"On another note did you forget that I'm still human and can't eat that stuff?" I question.

"Oh, sweetheart I'm so sorry," mom says, stepping closer.

She breathes in deep like she's trying to smell me. Her tongue glides along her bottom lip and if I didn't know any better I'd say she was contemplating eating me, her own daughter. I step backwards knocking into something. As I do several animals start barking, howling and meowing.

I glance back for a moment distracted by the noise, but the growls in front of me catch my attention and I quickly snap my attention back. Staring at me is not my family, they are something else and they want me for their dinner.

"I should head to work," I say. "I've got a lot of work...."

I step forward only to be pushed back by them taking a step in my direction.

"Guys it's me Sally, not short for salad or anything yummy; I'm just Sally," I try to tell them.

Their eyes glaze over and that's when I know things have gone from bad to worse. As they step closer I notice a space to the left. I try doing a fake out as if I were playing ball. I start to go right, but hook a sudden left. My family growls as they each lunge toward me.

I barely make it outside the tent. I wonder what our neighbors will think when they see me running through the yard to get away from my parents.

No matter what I do it seems I can't deter them. Don't look back, I tell myself. Like magic they appear in front of me. I make an attempt to skirt around them, and end up knocking over a garbage pail filled with I don't even know what. I try not to gag again. I stumble across the bright green grass losing my footing on something wet and slimy. I don't stop to think. What I really need to do is find out how to fix them.

Inside the house I lock all the doors, hoping it will keep them out. Downstairs in my room I lock that door too. I glide in my chair across the hardwood floor and right over to my computer. There has to be a way to save them. It takes me four times to log in with my hands shaking so damn much. My research is categorized into several folders, including a secret one that holds a journal I made about my family's transformation. My door rattles as I try to pull up the file, but the wifi keeps cutting in and out.

My family is stronger than the old wood door and the three of them burst through with hungry eyes. I stand and spin around, my back presses hard into the desk behind me.

"Guys, it's me Sally. Your daughter," I try.

Within seconds I'm surrounded by my hungry family looking to eat something other than pets. I can feel their breath on my necks as they open their mouths about to chomp down. They are so close and so shut my eyes and wait for them to devour me. When nothing happens I open my eyes and find myself standing right outside the house staring at it. The curtains in the window move and the red door opens. Mom stands there waving.

"You're going to miss dinner," she says, and I swear it's like deja vu.

I stare at her, she's still a green zombie but I can't help wonder if what I just witnessed was some kind of weird premonition or just my ridiculous brain running in overdrive. The sound of paper crinkling in the light breeze catches my attention. I crane my neck and come face to face with the flier of the cute little white dog with the pink collar.

My pulse throbs loudly in my ear. The minute I focus on my attention back on the house I know that I've lost my mind. Standing there in his football jersey is Stefan. I shake my head trying to clear the image.

"Tell mom I'll be home later," I call out to him.

He gives me a look.

"I forgot something at work," I yell.

"You're gonna miss out," he calls back.

I put my hand up, "No, I think I'm okay."

Stefan shrugs, "Suite yourself," he says, shutting the door.

I stand there for a few seconds staring at the house, wondering if I did go in there if my family would try to eat me. All I know is that I need to fix this and soon before there are no longer any pets left in the neighborhood.