Broken Memories • The Walking Dead Fanfiction

2

AYE WADDUP
OKAY CARL GRIMES TIME
LETS GO MY FRANDS

Enjoy!!

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SKYE

"Who are you?"

The mysterious voice cut through the silence like a knife. The gravely tone the male's voice contained deployed shivers to run down my spine. I hadn't heard a voice, a human, living breathing voice, in no less than three months.

"I don't mean any harm. Just let me get my stuff and go."

I said quietly, hardly recognizing my own voice from the lack of use. My throat burned from lack of water and I realized how long it had been since I had spoken aloud.

A callous chuckle left the boy's mouth, seeming to be laughing at my proposition with a dark humor.

"How do I know you aren't going to leave, go get your group, and come attack me?"

"I'm not with a group, I've been alone for a long time. It's just me, I swear." I pleaded downheartedly. My eyes raked him up and down, analyzing how much of a threat he was.

His hair was long for a guy, the tips of it brushing against his shoulders. On top of his head was an old sheriffs hat, the rough brown leather faded and worn. His worn out clothing was dirty, spots of blood staining the blue/green flannel. His arms, neck, face were sharp cut and tan; dirt overlaid his skin just like it did mine, but that's what living in the apocalypse gave you. He didn't appear too alarming, besides the gun in his hand, but his eyes were what caught my attention.

Brilliant blue eyes, unlike I'd ever seen, scanned me thoroughly, an insensitive expression set in his facial features. The color within the teenager's eyes swam like the ocean, a flash of gray seeming to cover them in the darkness for a moments pass then reawakening with more mystery and anger every second.

His eyes were beautiful, but oh so dangerous.

"You don't know. So I'm asking you to trust me." I spat angrily. "Please." I strained my voice, desperation lacing my words with hope that he would listen.

I looked him in the eyes and tried to beg,, but his eyes were cold. A flash, a consideration, blinked for half a second on his face, but he immediately took it over by a stern shake of his head.

"Keep your hands up and I swear I will blow your head off if you try anything." His unfamiliar voice growled, and my eyes widened.

He didn't shoot me.

The boy transferred his gun to his left hand, and started towards me, his eyes darting around the room. I was puzzled by his actions until he grabbed the tassels on the dinning room curtain and yanked them off. It suddenly registered in my mind what he was doing.

The boy rounded the table, the tassels hanging loosely in his hands. I muttered curses in protest when he had successfully bound me. My wrists were unmovable against the curtain tassels.

Yanking me off the table edge, I was turned around and roughly led to the living room. He pushed me to the floor against a couch and I groaned in protest.