𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄. － ᵗʷᵈ

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ¹¹

⁻⁻⁻ 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬.

"Open the door! It's Hershel!" Rick yelled, I heard wheels dragging along the cement floor,
"Daddy!" Beth screamed. Observing over the second floor, Hershel's leg is gone and smeared in blood as well as Rick and Maggie's hand's. It made my stomache churn at the sight of so so much blood. Strange because when they left Hershel had a leg, he was walking. What the bloody hell happened??

     He's passed out on this metal table that's
being wheeled into his cell.
"He got bit," I heard Rick,
"Oh my god, he's gonna turn," I tried to step in to see what's happening but there was no space to move or see anything. Already feeling squished from being in the doorway, I kept going on my tip toes and stretching my neck to see. I wanted to know if Hershel was ok much like everyone else but it's unfair that I'm at the back as I'm literally the shortest.

I took Carl's place when Lori told him to get the towels from next to her bed. Beth stepping on my foot as she stepped back making me yelp quietly. I could hear them talking medically; leg elevated, bandages, arteries. Daryl, on the hand, left me at the door to go in the other room for some reason. So, of course I had to follow and see if he's alright but when he got there his crossbow was aimed up at the door. The dead, walkers, is that was he's waiting for?

If walkers were round the corner I don't wanna be in the room, that's Rick and Glenn's job. Though depending on how many, I think, Daryl's got it covered on his own.

Maybe not. A group of five men walk in with blue prison jumpsuits. The one at the front having his jumpsuit sleeves tied round his waist with a gun tucked in that I hope Daryl's aware of.
I ran back to the others surrounding Hershel and tugged on Ricks shirt. I wait 'till Rick's looking at me before pointing down the hall, the group now hearing one of the guys speak since their voice raised as him and Daryl start arguing,
"Prisoners, survivors," Rick admitted, "It's alright, everybody stay put," he then leaves too.

Mia woke from her nap and was hungry, my part being to keep her upstairs away from Hershel to not witness what's happening. I wish I didn't see in neither, nearly everyone's hands and up the their arms was coated in this thin red liquid. I don't really got a thing about blood, I didn't think so. I hope not, this isn't a good time to realise that. Dale, Dale, Dale.

"Hey," I blink rapidly to get the image to flash away. The crayons and pages I stuffed into my backpack probably all crumpled but Mia doesn't seem to mind. It annoyed me, my attempts of straightening it out did nothing still having bumping lines across it all.
"It's ok," she noticed my frustration, handing me the brown crayon she was using. I dropped her crayon on my fairy picture and go dig through my backpack.

     "What you guys doin'?" Carl teases,
"None of your business," I shrug, Mia's Christmas tree was pink and it was intimidating me. The boy's soul purpose of bothering us was just to entertain himself because he's bored and has no friends. So I ignored him, continuing to search my bag for my headphones. Mia clearly missed the memo because she kept yapping and showing him things. I couldn't exactly tell her to stop nor can I be mad, they are family.

     "Food's here. Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans," T-Dog carried in the boxes, Rick carried the bags. The food options don't sound appealing, you gotta try it being dissing it, I say. It is prison food so my standards shouldn't have been too high in the first place.

Rick, T-Dog and Daryl off again doing their thing, apparently clearing out a whole cell block for the prisoner guys in exchange for the food they gave. That's nice of them but I really hope they careful because it's so easy to get hurt. My headphones fitted perfectly though I wish I had my soundproof ones because sometimes I hate background noise, it makes me wanna cry.