Matches To The Flame 》 Daryl Dixon

Chapter one

My name is Hailey Parker. I'm 22 years old. When I was younger I played video games and didn't really seem to fit in with the higher society. I mean yeah guys used to hit on me but they never interested me. I guess I was always so locked away in my room it took from my experience in the outside world. I grew up with my mom and dad, I had a little sister too. They all died when the virus hit. Too many of the zombies had chased us on the way out of Atlanta. They got them, they took my family from me. It's been almost a year and a half since I been on my own. Avoiding help. Avoiding people. Avoiding life the way it used to be. I been sleeping in tree branches away from the ground, eating berries on my walks; scavenging for food in houses I passed. Clothing, supplies; knives, guns. Whatever I could find.

Mind you I have a bow, pretty unique I see it, you never really run out of ammo. I learned the hard way that you can't kill a flesh eating monster any other way than a headshot. Almost gotten myself killed, honestly. I often daydream about my life before all this had started. I blinked at the green leaves flowing all around from the branch I was perched up against. I looked down at the ground. It was about 7 in the morning and I needed to find some more food as I had only my last can of beans left. I climbed down the tree a little before humping to the ground. I didn't worry about scratching myself since I had skintight leather pants on, with a black tank top and an old Adidas sweater wrapped around my hips. I took my bow and placed it on my back, trailing quietly to the nearest town to search for food.

I was please try surprised by how close it was, maybe a 10 minute walk. I did a perimeter check and cleared out most of the monsters before entering a blue house at the right side of the street. I rummaged through the cubboards and put what was useful on the counter. I searched around the house and admired some of the womans that used to live here style. She must have been a slight bit goth or something? Not sure but the walls were a crimson red. I always wanted to paint my room red when I was a teenager. Now that I'm older it didn't seem to matter as red (aka blood) was the only thing I seemed to see.

Suddenly I heard the front door open and I froze, hiding myself against a wall, breathing slow but steady.

"Woah dad look! There's food!" A boy said to obviously his father.

"That's good Carl,"- he paused

I peaked around the corner quickly, not being noticed.

"These cans were just touched. Stay behind me Carl." The man said defensively. I heard his footsteps coming closer and I looked for somewhere to hide but there was nothing but a pantry closet to the left of me. I took my chances anyways and sprinted into the closet. I was horrible at this and I knew it. I knew this would one day get me killed. I heard his footsteps getting closer to the door and my heart raced faster and faster. I felt something in the back of my mind telling me to say my goodbyes to the cruel world.

The pantry door swung open and I managed to let out a little scream before the man covered my mouth and told me to be quiet before someone- or something heard. He had longer curly grey hair. And the little boy, scared, held a gun up to me.

"Carl, put your gun down." The man said, he had to repeat it a few times until he'd listened.

I was still breathing heavy and ny heart was still pounding...

"I'm Rick. This here is my son, Carl. I'd like to help you" he said with his calming voice and blue eyes.