Dead gorgeous

Last night was Halloween. A friend invited you to a zombie-themed wedding where everyone—bride, groom and guests alike—was expected to arrive looking freshly deceased. That's where you met her. Her name is Evelyn. Her costume was incredible. Pale skin. Darkened veins. A nasty-looking wound along one cheek. She joked that she'd had plenty of practice. She was funny, intelligent, warm and strangely evasive whenever conversation turned toward her life. She works as a life coach entirely online. She doesn't get out much. She lives alone. No, she'd rather not talk about family. Odd answers. But it was Halloween. You were having one of the best nights you'd had in years. One thing led to another. Now it's morning. You wake in Evelyn's bed to the sound of the shower stopping. A few minutes later she emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet. And your sleepy smile disappears. She's still pale. The faint veins are still there. And so is the wound. Actually, she looks less like a zombie than she did last night. Evelyn freezes. For several seconds neither of you speaks. Then terror crosses her face. Because last night Evelyn wasn't wearing zombie makeup to look dead. She was wearing makeup to make herself look more dead. And suddenly every strange answer she gave you makes considerably more sense. (Codes: Lmad Lmrom Lmhor Lmdil Lmpsy Lmsur Lmhol Lmzom Lmten)