❝ if you're gunna be dumb, in this world, then you gotta be tough!❞
layla, knowing she's all alone, unarmed, hopeless, in a world where the dead want to feast on her flesh, plans to embrace her end on her own terms. daryl won't let that happen.
[the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
two.
tw. mentions of past suicide attempt, ethnic slur, the usual blood and gore of twd
She awoke to the soft sounds of muffled voices. Her head was spinning as her eyes fluttered open, the pale blue fabric of the tent she was resting in seeped light through and warming her face. The birds chirped sweetly as she shuffled around in her makeshift bed.
The murmuring voices outside seemed to die down as panic set in, now footsteps on the gravelly ground inched closer towards her. 'Where am I? Who brought me here? Am I dead?'
Her breath caught in her throat as the zip on the tent opened up and she was face to face with the smile of a young blonde women.
"She's awake!" The young woman shouted behind her. The tent door was ripped open, sunlight pouring in on her.
"Don't scare her, Amy." Another voice spoke softly as another woman joined outside the tent hurriedly. She crouched down carefully next to her shaking worrying form.
"Morning sleepyhead, how you feelin'?" The woman asked with a smile but she couldn't speak or respond, her voice caught in her throat and she realised how pathetic she must look.
"Where am I?" She managed to ask quietly after a moment. These people didn't look monstrous and they certainly weren't trying to eat her alive.
"You're just outside of Atlanta." She explained, "What's your name?"
"Layla."
"Well, it's nice to meet you Layla." She smiled warmly, a welcoming gesture Layla hadn't felt like she had seen in weeks. She spoke again, eager to comfort her as Layla's shaky arms gave her nervousness away, "Listen, we have a camp set up, far away from the dead. You're safe here and you're welcome to join us."
Layla relaxed slightly.
"What's your name?" Layla asked.
"Lori," She smiled again, reaching her hand out for her to take, "Come on, I'll show you around."
Layla, hesitant at first, entrusted Lori, taking her hand with a weak smile and stepping out of the tent into the heat of Georgia.
The camp she stood in was at the edge of a reserve park, in a quarry high up enough to scope out the land for miles ahead and guarded by an array of trees and shrubbery. There were tents, campfires, laundry hung up on makeshift washing lines, a huge camper van and truck filled with buckets of fresh clean water.
Layla felt her eyes start to fill up. In a time when she felt as if there was no hope left in this world, no one else left alive, she was somehow thrown into the hands of a community surviving together through the harsh odds of this world.
