Find Your Purpose, Before It's Too Late

Chapter 1

The dream came again; really it was more of a memory. Being held at the hospital in Atlanta had been awful. You were a prisoner, and even with all that happened to you there before the arrival of Beth, and then Carol, it was the day you met Rick and his group that was currently haunting you in your sleep; even sometimes during your waking hours.

Tossing in your sleep, your subconscious replayed the day when they showed up at the hospital to retrieve Beth and Carol. You were right behind Dawn's group of cops when you watched as Beth dropped dead to the floor by way of Dawn's gun. You hadn't known Beth and Carol long, but you liked them; you even had helped Beth get the meds she needed to save Carol's life. Watching the young girl die sent you into a deeper emotional hole than you were already in after being kept a prisoner at the hospital for many, many months.

When another member of Rick's group raised his gun and immediately shot Dawn in the head, you were paralyzed with fear. The sound of the two shots echoes throughout Grady, causing a loud ringing in your ears. It took a second, but when Rick spoke up saying anyone could join them, you didn't hesitate.

You stepped forward and cautiously walked through the uniformed officers clustered around Dawn's dead body. Half afraid that the man who shot her might turn to shoot you too, you held Rick's gaze as he motioned for you to come to him.

"It's alright," he said as calmly as he could. His icy blue eyes were a wild mix of anger and sorrow, but never wavering from your own. Despite the tension in the air, Rick's hand was steady as it took yours, guiding you behind him protectively. No one else came. All the others stayed in their respective doorways; mouths still hanging in shock as to what just happened.

You turned back to look at this group of strangers, armed with guns and looks of despair. Meeting Carol's eyes, she looked at you with tears spilling down her cheeks and her lips trembling. Her gaze then cut back to the wild-haired man beside her with his weapon still raised. He finally lowered his gun and absent mindedly passed it to Carol. Bending down, Daryl picked up Beth's lifeless body and slowly turned to leave the bloody corridor.

That's how it ended every time. You didn't jerk awake or feel afraid. Your eyes opened slowly to a pitch black bedroom and then your mind began to reflect on how life had been since leaving the city.

Since the day you walked out of Grady Memorial hospital with Rick and his family, you've followed him faithfully. Even when there was no food, and the road was long in front of you; you walked by their side and did what you could to help protect the group. No one spoke much, certainly not at first. The days on the road were hard and quiet; no one exactly in the mood to get to know you.

After a few days, you realized that your blue scrubs were a lingering reminder of the friend and sister they just lost. Carol made sure she found you a change of clothes and took time to walk next to you, even if it was in silence. Besides Rick and Carol, Noah was the only person you felt completely comfortable with. You hadn't spoken much at Grady, but the shared experience of what you both went through was enough to bond you down the long road to D.C.

It had been two months since Alexandria became home, and just about that amount of time since Noah was killed. Continuing to lose people became harder and harder for you until there was just nothing of you left.

Things had been quiet in Alexandria for a couple weeks, but you had yet to be able to feel at home. Everyone was finally falling into a routine, except you. The weight of sadness you carried was starting to become too heavy and you couldn't help but wonder why you even bothered leaving the hospital.

After Noah died on the run with Aiden and Glenn, you became completely withdrawn and wouldn't speak to anyone. Losing people, especially ones you cared for wasn't something you had much practice in until now. With each life lost, you found it harder and harder to come up with a reason to get out of bed each morning.

Slowly, you drifted back to a spotty sleep and were back at the beginning of the dream again. Same loud gun shots, same bloody corridor.