I try to stop it, but the laugh bubbles up before I can help it. It comes out as a simple chuckle at first, then transitions into something deeper and wilder.
The irony. The absolute absurdity of it.
He wanted to die. And now, when death is staring him in the face, he's begging to live.
His expression changes, confusion flickering in his fevered eyes. "What's… so funny?"
I exhale, wiping at the corner of my eye. "Oh, nothing." I grin. "Just that you're the first meal to ever beg me not to eat it."
I want to taste what it's like to have a fear-doused meal. I want to feel what the zombies feel when they eat. Is fear like a seasoning, garnishing, and giving the food more sauce?
Hence, I play with him.
The color drains from his face. "W-What?"
"This is for trying to kill yourself and being too cowardly to do it right." I groan and before he can react, I move.
Fast. Too fast for his weakened body to even process.