"I was busy, Jo wasn't feeling well."

I couldn't help but notice how miserable he looked, and my heart sank when I realised he must feel sorry for me.

He feels bad for breaking this poor girl's heart. I hate that. I'm not a victim, I'm not some poor girl. I'm strong and capable, and I don't need anyone's pity, least of all his.

I was about to tell him all this when he stepped into the room and slid the door shut behind him.

"I want to explain... what you heard. Last night," Wyatt started, his shoulders stiffening.

I quickly finished my liner and threw it back in my makeup bag, wanting nothing more than to get out of that tiny room.

"You don't need to explain anything," I interrupted. "I totally get it. I thought you were a nice guy; a genuine, kind hearted person. Clearly, I was wrong."

I could tell by the way his eyes dropped to the floor that I had wounded him, but I pushed passed him and slid the door open anyway, walking out into the diner to start my shift.

Even though it was only the four of us in the diner, the tension was thick.

Wyatt reeked of guilt, while Jo and Ben gave him the cold shoulder and smothered me with over-the-top kindness.

When my parents died, I became very familiar with pity. I know exactly what it looks like, complete with sad frowns and awkward silences. But nothing compares to the look in the eyes of someone who feels sorry for you.

It's a swirling mixture of sympathy, sorrow, and relief. Relief that it's not them going through something so terrible, so tragic. I swore I would never see myself in the reflection of those melancholy eyes again.

Needing some fresh air, I volunteered to take the trash out to the dumpsters, which sat in the alleyway down the end of the block.

Picking up two full bags of rubbish from the bins in the kitchen, I carried them out into the stairwell, avoiding all eye contact on my way passed Wyatt, Jo and Ben.

Grey and cold, with concrete stairs leading down into the dark basement, I always found the stairwell to be rather eerie.

Two trolleys sat on the concrete landing, by the double doors that opened up onto the street. I threw the bags into a trolley and pushed through the doors, light filling the stairwell as I made my way outside.

Closing the doors behind me, I noticed how empty the streets appeared, even though it was now mid-morning. I could only see one man, far off in the distance, who stood staring at a brick wall, swaying back and forth.

Another drunk? I wondered as I began pushing the trolley down the hill.

Taking the rubbish out wasn't the most glamorous of chores, but there was one aspect I really loved about it. I smiled as I started running down the street, picking up speed. In one movement I jumped onto the back of the trolley and closed my eyes to feel the wind on my face as I flew down the sidewalk.

After a few seconds of exhilaration, I opened my eyes and jumped back onto the ground, skidding to a stop just in time to turn into the alley and pull up alongside an open dumpster.

Lifting the bags over my shoulder, I flipped them into the dumpster one at a time, holding my nose to avoid the smell of rotting food and filth.

I started making my way back towards the diner, pulling the trolley behind me with one arm, when I heard a moan coming from behind me. I paused to look back, but saw nothing.

I kept walking, only to hear it again. A low, rattling growl echoed from within the metal container. I had never heard anything like it before, and it sent chills rushing down my spine. This time, I walked back over to it to investigate. I held my nose again as I edged closer to peek inside. All of a sudden, something jumped up from inside the dumpster, groaning and covered in garbage.

I screamed as I jumped back in fear, my heart pounding inside my chest.

It rose to its feet unsteadily, and it took me a few seconds before I realised it was a woman in ragged clothes.

Her face was a sickly grey, her skin sallow and glistening with sweat. I tried to contain my shock, but I could see she had been eating rubbish.

"Oh. Sorry...You scared me," I said as I backed up against the trolley.

The woman let out another low rattle as she continued chewing on something that made disgusting crunch sounds when she bit down. A long, fleshy rodent tail fell out the corner of her mouth, hanging there as she struggled to climb out of the dumpster.

I cupped my hand over my mouth in an attempt to prevent myself from throwing up in disgust, and grabbed the trolley as I started running out of the alleyway.

By the time I had made it back into the diner I was dry reaching. Jo asked me what was wrong as I ran into the bathroom to wash my hands furiously, but I couldn't tell her what I had seen.

"Nothing. Just smells bad down there," I lied.

Knowing how sick Jo had been the night before, and how hungover she felt today, I thought it would be best not to say anything. Besides, I didn't think I could repeat the story without making myself sick, too.

"It's so quiet today," I said as I walked back into the diner, trying to forget the sick feeling in my stomach.

Ben and Wyatt stood by the fryer, cooking themselves some french fries.

"I know. It's weird," Ben said, looking out the window. "I barely saw anyone on the drive in this morning. I've never seen the city so empty."

Before I could reply, I saw a man stumbling across the road towards the diner.

"Customer," I said to the others as I walked over behind the counter to greet him as he pushed the door open and walked inside.

"Hi, here for breakfast?" I smiled, handing him a menu.

"Yeah. I'm starving. Feels like I haven't eaten in weeks," he replied as he sat on one of the counter stools.

From the look of his bloodshot eyes and cracked lips, I figured he had been out all night. Wearing a light blue pin-striped shirt with an assortment of stains down the front and torn dark blue jeans, he didn't look well at all.

"Big night?" I asked, switching on the coffee machine.

"I think so. I don't really remember. I feel like shit," he said, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "I woke up in the gutter with some homeless dude trying to eat my leg. The freak tore right through my jeans."

My jaw dropped.

"What the hell? Are you serious?" I asked in surprise.

I turned around to see Wyatt and Ben still standing by the fryer. Wyatt looked as surprised as I did, but I could see Ben was trying not to laugh.

"Yeah. I had to kick him off then I got the hell outta there. I'll have the Big Breakfast please. And coffee, lots and lots of coffee," he handed the menu back to me casually, as though he hadn't just escaped being a Big Breakfast to a homeless man.

I started making his coffee while Wyatt and Ben put gloves on and prepared his meal.

"So, did he actually bite you? Maybe you should go to a hospital?" I asked the man as I carried his coffee over to him, but he didn't answer.

He just sat there, slumped over the counter with his head in his hands.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he snapped. "I'm hungry. Just make my food."

I wanted to return his animosity, but after all the rude people I'd served as a waitress, I had quickly learned to bite my tongue and shrug it off.

Wyatt walked out of the back room holding frozen sausages and bacon and placed them on the stove. I saw the customer's head snap up then, and he began sniffing wildly and glaring at the meat.

He looked even worse than when he walked in. His skin had fast become clammy and pale, and I could have sworn I heard a low growl coming from his throat. It instantly reminded me of the deranged woman in the dumpster, and I cringed.

I walked behind the kitchen island and stood next to Wyatt. The pain of his hurtful words still lingered in the back of my mind, but I instantly felt calmer in his presence.

"Something doesn't feel right about this guy. Cook his food quick then let's get rid of him," I whispered, watching the customer carefully.

Wyatt looked over at him suspiciously and nodded, flipping the bacon over as it sizzled.

"I think he's still drunk or something," whispered Ben as he took freshly popped toast out of the toaster and threw it on a plate.

I looked back towards the counter and saw the man had his head down in his arms again.

Once the Big Breakfast was ready I carried it over to him and placed it on the counter next to his head.

"Sir, you're breakfast is ready."

He didn't move.

I leaned in closer to him, trying to see his face, but it was covered by his arm.

"Excuse me, sir? You're breakfast is here."

He still didn't move.

I watched him closely, waiting for the rise and fall of his back as he breathed.

Nothing.

Slowly, I reached my hand over the counter and gently nudged his shoulder.

His head slipped off of his arm and he slowly slid sideways off of the stool and slammed onto the tiled floor. Even with that hard knock, he didn't wake up.

I gasped, my eyes wide as I stared down at his lifeless body.

He was dead.

Chapter Five.

"Crap!" I gasped as I stepped back, walking into the kitchen island.

"What's wrong, Eva?" Jo asked as she walked out of the office.

"Ben! The customer... I think he's... He's not moving!" I called, motioning to Ben to come over.

Ben ripped off his gloves and ran around the outside of the counter towards the man.

"Call an ambulance! Wyatt, help me turn him onto his back," he yelled as he checked the man's pulse and he and Wyatt carefully laid him flat on the floor.

Jo ran back into the office to get her phone then ran back out again as she dialed.

"I can't get through!" She yelled as she dropped her phone on the counter and hurried back into the office to use the landline. "The landline is down! There isn't even a dial tone!"

"There's no pulse," said Ben as he opened the man's mouth in preparation for CPR.

He was about to begin mouth to mouth resuscitation when the customer's eyes flew open.

Wyatt and Ben moved back in shock.

The man didn't move, he just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Ben slowly leaned in closer, lowering his ear over the man's mouth.

"He's still not breathing."

"I... I don't feel a pulse," Wyatt said, his fingers on the lifeless wrist.

Ben knelt back just as a gurgling sound emerged from the man's mouth, sputtering blood all over himself. His bloodshot eyes started darting around the room, his arms slowly rising, reaching for Ben.

Ben and Wyatt stood up and backed away, and for a moment we all just stood there, staring, not knowing what to do.

"Guys?" Jo called from the office and we hurried over to the entryway to see her. "I tried the landline and all of our mobiles, but there's nothing. Just silence. I don't understand."

She explained, pushing her red hair behind her ear.

"I've never seen anything like him before," said Ben, his face white with shock. "I mean, granted I haven't completed training yet but... He's not breathing. He doesn't have a pulse. He's... dead. But he's moving. I don't know what to do."

I'd never seen Ben look so defeated.

I jumped at the sound of a loud crash and turned to see the plate of food had disappeared from the counter. Slowly, I walked closer and glanced over to see the supposedly dead man had managed to sit up and begin tearing into the bacon and sausages like an animal.

He had reached up and pulled the plate down onto the floor.

"Ben!" I whispered and pulled him over so he could see. "He's not dead! He's okay. Sort of."

The man's head snapped up at the sound of my whisper, and I gasped when I saw his face. His skin was a sickly grey now, looking even more like the woman in the alley.