A/N: Well, since it is my thirtieth fic, I thought the big three-oh deserved a new fandom :-) And 'Warm Bodies' was one of my favorite books I'd ever read (if you like zombies, of course) and I had the idea of, what if R started remembering stuff about his past life? You know? Because at the end of the book, the author kind of left that up in the air. I haven't seen the film yet, but I want to! Anyway, haven't yet watched the film, so this is based off the book and anything that might be different from the book to the movie I can't help.

I don't remember the exact day.

All I remember is, at one time, I was not stumbling around like the slowly decaying corpse I once was.

The decaying corpse that I still should have been.

Why wasn't I?

Interesting question.

It's all because of a girl.

Now, you skeptic readers, don't give me that look. A girl honestly caused it.

The most amazing girl in the world: Julie Grigio.

I would have still been dead if it wasn't for her.

But now my heart started again, all because of her.

And now that I'm slowly but surely becoming more human every day, and humans are learning to live with zombies, I'm starting to remember things.

Things have been pretty close to perfect in my life right now, but suddenly I'm finding when I was actually alive, my life seriously sucked.

I'm remembering so many small flashes, like pictures of a man who looks a lot like me, without the slowly decaying corpse part, and I just know he is my father.

I wonder what he's like, but I guess I'll only get an answer if I remember it.

And I'm not moving forward with the memories at all. At least, I'm not until I'm sleeping, which zombies have taken up doing now, and I wake up in a cold sweat, moisture dripping off my forehead, out my eyes…

This is the first time I've ever sweat or cried before.

It's strange.

I hastily wipe my eyes and struggle to remember every single detail of the dream that brought about such a reaction from me.

The man who looks like me, the man who I know to be my father, is screaming at me.

He's clearly very drunk, the bitter scent of alcohol stinging my nose.

I've never been afraid of my father, with his slightly aggressive ways and quick temper, both of which he always denies he has.

I swallow, staring into his eyes, which look deader than mine do.

I take a deep breath and say, "Dad, you're drunk. You need to get out of here before you hurt someone else…"

Dad's screaming at me again, though I can't make out the words.

"SHUT UP!" It sounds like. "YOU SHUT UP AND DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!"

I swallow and nod, gently tugging him towards the door. "But, Dad, c'mon, come get into the car…"

Dad gets quite mean when he is drunk, but right now he just looks defeated. He slumps limply against me and allows me to drag him all the way to his expensive silver car and buckle him in the passenger seat.

I am almost sixteen, and I am not letting Dad drive in this state.

I help him along, my fingers tight against the steering wheel, and when we finally reach home, I send him in the general direction of his bedroom, where he will go sleep it off.

Tomorrow, he will awake with a pounding headache and nasty temper.

But at least he will no longer be drunk anymore.

I stare blankly at the wall opposite the bed, and jump a little when I hear Julie begin to stir.

We live together now.

Her beautiful blonde hair spills down her shoulders and she's curled up next to me, but now she opens those gorgeous eyes of hers and blinks them a little.

"R?" She asks me, confused. "R, what are you doing up so early?"

I glance at the clock and see it's only 5:45 in the morning.

I swallow and mutter, "Dreams." Even if I hang around humans a lot more often, it's still hard for me to speak.

She says, "You want to talk about them?"

I shake my head. Then I think for a second and say, "I think…I just…remembered…my old life."