Okay, so here is the deal. This is BN (Before Negan) so that the character can get a feel of the whole group and participate in the Negan reaction. Without further ado, enjoy! (1 AM, people, give me some slack)

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Thud. Thud. Thud.

My slow footsteps on the pavement echo in the silence, occasionally accompanied by a chorus of birdsong or cicadas chirping. I squint up at the sky, letting my eyes adjust to the harsh sunlight. The blue is overwhelming, but gives me a clear idea of the time. 4 in the afternoon.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Every noise makes my heart nearly leap out of my thinned body. In a world where death decides to come at you in the form of the risen dead, any sound ignored could mean the end of your life. A squirrel leaping from one branch to another is enough to make me gasp, but it's something you just have to go through.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I check my ammunition in the bag on my side. 12 bullets left. I don't like to use the gun, the noise attracting more roamers than necessary, so I tend to use the knife my father gave me. The blade isn't that large, but it does the job, so no complaining comes from me. If the time comes for me to use the gun, I'll save the last bullet for me. Hey, I tried, but I refuse to be killed at the hands of one of them.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I slow, exhaustion kicking in. Where am I going? Wherever I end up. Right now, nothing can stay "home". I just try to stay off of the main roads and avoid cities. If it's this bad in the country, I can't imagine a place that had ten times the population of this endless greenery.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Raspy growling comes from behind me and I swing around, bringing my blade down into the first roamer, before shoving the body towards the other, forcing it to back up. I then sink the knife deep into the brain, through rotting flesh and fragile bone. 71. 71. 71. The number runs through my head and I slowly fall to my knees beside the corpses, a neutral expression on my features. I absentmindedly run my middle finger over the tally-mark scars on my pointer finger. I lift my blade and add a seventh. It's small, but the cut brings a tear out of my eye.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I was at with a girl at the start of this. Her name was Ari. She was ruthless, in an odd way, bringing one roamer after the other to the ground. She had no remorse, but she could be very kind. She saw me on the street fighting a group of the things. It was obvious that I wasn't going to be crowned winner if the event went on any further. Ari came in, guns blazing and saved my sorry butt. She was remarkably beautiful, warm brown skin seemingly glowing in the hot sun. Two French braids ran down to her shoulder blades and she had an almost mystical, cold look in her eyes.

I stare with wide eyes, still trying to process what had happened. My brain ignores the putrid scent burning my nose. The girl stands in front of me with an impatient look on her face.

"Well? Are you coming? Those shots weren't exactly quiet and more are coming from over there." She points a slender finger down the street to a horde coming our way. "Stay and die now, or come and die later." I nod and we begin to sprint in the opposite direction.

She was an interesting person. She once killed a man that was trying to take our stuff and didn't look back once. I thought that she was all guts of steel until one day when I saw her cutting her finger. That was when I noticed the tally-marks. Now, I copy the idea, counting roamers that I've killed so I can live with it.

I glance up, shading my eyes and studying the road before me. Nothing but hills. Hills and trees and…A house? I lurch to my feet and nearly trip.

I run. I run with a fire in my mind, my heart pounding with an uncontrollable force. My lungs burn, but it's worth it. The sheer joy of watching the white house get closer and closer is amazing. A snarl comes from my left and I turn, hurling the blade and landing it straight in the forehead of the roamer.

"I missed. Daddy, when will I ever need this?" Disappointment fills my voice and Daddy presses his hand gently into my shoulder, leaving to retrieve the knife.

"You never know when you might need this. It's good to know. Here, step closer and keep your eye trained on where you want it to land." He pulls my arm up and encourages me to throw. The knife lands with a thud at the edge of the target and my heart lifts with pride.

I can still recall the time when I showed my talent to Ari.

"Where the devil did you learn that?" Ari lifts an eyebrow in surprise.

"I…I used to play darts with my uncle."

She never did ask about it, but I knew she wasn't trusting of my story.

Thudthudthudthud

Fast. Faster. I push myself harder until I'm sure any step further will kill me. I slow, my heart racing almost as fast as I was running. My breath comes in and out 90 miles an hour and I begin to cough. Even though my lungs throb, the running came with a reward. The cool, dewy grass touches my shoes and I grin at the large white house in the yard before me. The mailbox besides me reads "Olsen". A family used to live here and I plan on taking it on as my own territory. A flash of guilt races through my mind, but I shake it away. After all, the chances that this family is still living are low.

I glance back to the vast green, scanning for any roamers. I only see one shuffling towards me. It gets nearer and bumps into the white fence right in front of me. I push a stray lock of blonde hair from my eyes and put my full attention on the walker. It's bloody stomach presses against the wood, staining it a dark red. Its deformed fingers reach for me, straining for its next meal on legs.

Sorry, buddy. Not happening.

I sink my knife into the thing's head until a disturbingly satisfying squelch makes the roamer fall. I heave a sigh and look for any more. Upon finding none, I unlatch the lock of the fence and push my weight onto it. It swings open on creaky hinges and I cringe. If the roamers didn't hear me before, they definitely know I'm here now.

One step inside.

Two steps.

I laugh with triumph, slamming the gate shut and running farther onto the property. My faded black Transport bookbag slaps against my back as my feet pound the earth. An inclined hill slows me down and I smile, looking over what appears to be a farm. Despite the overgrown grass and dirty water in the pond, it's shockingly beautiful. To my left, the house sits, an unkempt flower garden growing wild with weeds to its front. It has two massive stories with a front porch adorned in old rocking chairs. To the right of me, a vegetable garden grows.

Grew.

I turn my attention back to the aged house and take a few steps closer. The white paint is peeling and the window pane is thick with dust. I reach for the doorknob and begin to turn it, but then stop myself.

Wait.

I rap my knuckles hard against the door and lean in to listen. 10 seconds later, the sound of growling makes me jumps slightly.

God, let's hope it's only one.

I push against the door and it pushes back, heavy with over a year of no use. When it cracks open, a large hand shoots out and makes a grab for my arm. Its thick fingers dig into my skin and I wince, pulling the door back and stabbing at the arm. I hear a crack and the hand falls to the ground. I push my weight against the door and jump back once it flies open, hitting the wall. The roamer, well fed to say the least, hobbles forward. I dodge its one hand and begin a sort of a dance. "You the only one?" My voice comes out hoarse from my time of silence. I grab its shoulders and push it back. It comes once more. "You do realize that you things killed my only friend in this?" I lean in and finish it off.

"Come on!" Ari motions for me to follow her. I step out from behind the tree and run alongside her. I pant as we sprint through a clearing in the woods, gaining distance from the horde that was on the road. I glance back and gasp at the dozen roamers closing in on us.

"Ari!"

"I know." Her voice is stoic and I gulp, pushing harder. We tear through the grass and stop at a huge fence, too high to climb. Prison border. Ari cusses under her breath and turns around, eyeing our options. One, run until we either die or get rid of the roamers…Or…

"Well, it was nice knowing you, Blondie." She gives me a gentle look and my stomach churns. Oh, no.

"What are you-,"

She hands me her pistol and nods. "It's got six bullets. Make 'em count."

"No. No, you can't. We can get away" My voice shakes with fear and the tears burn my eyes.

"Don't worry. I ain't dyin' at the hands o' them." She begins to back up, getting sickeningly close to the roamers. She gives me a goodbye, a single salute, and lifts her knife.

"NO!"

She falls, and I look away as the putrid creatures kneel down to eat her corpse. She wanted me to get away, her being the diversion.

"Sorry," my voice comes out in a low whisper. "Plans have changed."

I lift her gun, my hands shaking and a let out a yell, shooting to take out as many roamers as I can.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

I throw the empty gun to the grass and lift my knife, making one fall to the ground. I kick the second in the stomach and it stumbles backwards into another. The two fall and I kill both. 3 more. I grab one by the neck and dig the knife into the skull. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. A hand grabs my shoulder and I elbow the source. The blow is gives me enough time to whirl around and finish it off. One more. The one that got the first bite into Ari. I push it on its back and straddle its stomach, stabbing the head repeatedly. I turn the knife over to his stomach, right where he bit into Ari, and give him the biggest incision of his life…Over and over again. Great surgery, Doc.

I finally gather up the nerves to look at Ari. She lays on her back, eyes wide, frozen in the eternal panic of her last second. I let out a shaky breath and stand on my wobbling legs, walking over to her. Her white sweater is stained a horrible red and I cringe. I can almost hear her voice lecturing me.

"I said make them count. Those didn't count, idiot."

"Yes, they did. Yes, they did." I finally let the tears fall, sobbing mixing with the sound of the cool wind. I cup her face and breathe deeply, before pulling her up by her shoulders into a sitting position leaning against me. I gingerly remove her leather bag off of her and sit it in my lap. I grab her soft blanket from inside and spread it out on top of her, stopping at her chin. I take my index and middle fingers and close her eyes, giving her a much more peaceful look. Looking back into her bag, I take out a white slip of paper. She snagged it when we raided a stationary store and claimed that we might need it sometime.

I look around, hoping for a stick or something and am not disappointed when I find one to the left of Ari. I dip the end in the blood of the last roamer and begin to write.

Here lies Ari, the best protector and friend I've had. She was tough and sharpened me, treating me like a person and not some kind of child. I survived because of her.

I look back up and empty the few contents of her bag into my larger one and stand. "Hold up." I lean down and pick up Ari's gun, setting it on her stomach. That gun was her life. Her mother had given it to Ari when she died a year before the fall of humanity. She deserves to rest with it. I sigh and begin looking for wildflowers. After walking for a few minutes, I find a bunch. I smile and gather them, heading back to Ari's body.

"Sorry. You never got a proper funeral. I hope this makes up for it. Thank you." I swallow a sob and begin to sing. Ari had told me her favorite song late one night and I intend to honor her.

"Carry on my wayward son,

There'll be peace when you are done." My voice cracks, but I hold back the tears.

"Lay your weary head to rest,

Don't you cry no more." I hold back the next line, thinking that she'll jump right up and slap me for thinking her dead. Nothing.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion,

Just to get a glimpse behind this illusion." I shudder at the memory of her telling stories of the life she had before this, before Hell decided it was bored down there and wanted more space. Her mother died due to a chronic illness. Nothing to be helped, but treatment was expensive and Ari's father blamed her mother.

"I was soaring ever higher,

But I flew too high." She overshot things. She was skilled, no doubt, but she would always find excuses to cut every limb off of every walker she killed. Today, she went too far. Too far, even for her.

"Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man," 'You don't get it' is what I would tell her every time she criticized me for crying over a death. She never got it.

"Though my mind could think, I still was a mad man," "Come on, we don't need to. We're ok." She looked at me in defiance and took the roamer's foot clean off. She sticks it in her bag.

"We need it."

"I hear the voices when I'm dreaming," She always talked in her sleep. Whether it was a simple 'no' to a 'stop it', she would have the same terror in her eyes. When she woke, though, she always felt better. I felt guilty. She always got less sleep than me and when I talked to her about it, she would brush it off with a very subtle, "Shut it, Cornwad."

"I can hear them say,

Carry on my wayward son,

There'll be piece when you are done," "I'm just waiting for death. Then, everything will be better. Whether or not there's this Heaven, it can always be better than this. If I go to Hell…well, I'm already used to it."

I continue the song, numbly ripping a small chain off of her neck and shuffling away. The skies darken, but I ignore it. Now I am on my own, alone in this sucky place called reality. Go me.

I blink, tears begging to fall at the memory. I look back up to the door. It's open and nothing dead seems to be walking out with deadly intent, so that's a plus. I clear my throat and stand, bringing my knife to the ready. Once my slender form reaches the door frame, I examine what looks like a living room. The couches are covered in a thick layer of dust and the wallpaper is fading. Other than that, nothing is too horridly messed up, which is good. I tread lightly on the wood through an opening to another room. A kitchen. I smile weakly and race to a set of cupboards. I say a thousand prayers to whatever's up there to give me some food. Maybe a can of beans or even dog food. Man, Alpo sounds really good right now.

No, I was never crawling on the ground screaming for food. I had enough. Sure, it was heavy, and sometimes I would go to sleep hungry because I'd ration it, but I was never dying.

I rip open one of the cupboards and frown. Nothing but a dead fly. I check another one, smiling gently at the small can of peas. I swipe it from the shelf and try another. "Yes!" I yell at the shelf chock full of various foods. Who cared if they were out of date?

I sit on the floor, ignoring the dirt, and pry open the can of peas. The smell hits my nose and I start shoveling it down my throat with one hand. Oh, God. It's heavenly. I sigh, my hand hitting the bottom of the can. I stand and dust myself off. Time to scope out the rest of the house.

I cover the bottom floor, finding a bathroom and master bedroom. I glance at the stairs. Two at a time, I fly, opening door after door. I run into another bathroom and freeze. A mirror is hanging on the wall. Do I even want to see what I look like? Well, curiosity killed the cat.

I bend down and look, peering into the glass. My stringy blonde hair falls in my face and I frown at the intense grime on my skin. My lips at chapped and blood covers my cheek. Despite this, my eyes hold a light that I'm sure wasn't there before now. I grin, feeling safe for the first time in my life. Perhaps being alone isn't that bad. Nobody to bother you, no extra mouth to feed…yeah. Alone is better.

I sigh, standing and scoping out the other rooms. Other than one surprise roamer, nothing major happens. Oh yeah, I find a bed. A bed! Of course, I slap the sheets until I'm sure that the dust won't suffocate me and lay down, asleep before my head hits the pillow. One thought runs through my head before I'm fully gone.

Major score.

…..

Yay! Don't worry, the good stuff's coming. Thanks for reading.