No longer dressed in the school uniform all the other girls persisted in wearing, Alek sported cheap jeans and a letterman jacket far too big for her. She had found it while rummaging around the drawers upstairs.

She was lying on the bed in the master bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. The pungent scent of copper and bleach burned her nose.

The previous family had never left. Instead, their corpses were found in this very room, with a single gun and five fired rounds that shone like gold atop the blood-speckled floors. They were aligned side-by-side, each body possessing a sweet smile and neat bullet hole in the forehead.

Alek and the rest of the girls prepared a swift burial for the family before scouring the place clean.

This was their home now.

Entrances and windows have been reinforced with wood from tables and chairs. Blunt weapons, like the hickory cane that the deceased father had owned, were found and equipped by all five girls.

They had shelter, security and protection.

Now if only they could get some real food, Alek thought as she rolled over, attempting to stifle the growling that emanated from her stomach. Hunger grinded ruthlessly against her ribs, an ache that only seemed to intensify when the thought of hot, dripping steak crossed her mind.

Screw the zombies and their human flesh. She wasn't becoming all vegetarian just because of some brain matter on her shoes.

It was times like this that she sorely regretted taking cafeteria food for granted.

- toohungrytodietoohungrytodie toohungrytodietoohungrytodie -

"Hand it over."

"No, Gemma, I—"

"Hand it over."

The packaged wafers shook violently in the small girl's hands, as if threatening to burst open.

Gemma's thin arms were crossed impatiently. With a dirt-encrusted fingernail, she speared half-moons into the tight skin of her bicep. A slight sheen of sweat had settled over her forehead. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, awaiting the smaller girl's reply.

Bethany shifted her weight to the other foot, wincing at the loud click of her loafers.

"But...but I found them..."

Slowly, Gemma reached towards Bethany, ignored her slight flinch, and fastened her grip on the edge of the wrapper. She clamped the thin material between her forefinger and thumb, inducing a sharp crackling sound as she steadily rubbed it back and forth.

"...them?"

Bethany's eyes watered. Despite her evident fear of Gemma, she held onto the food. She was starving after all.

Saoirse watched this exchange wordlessly. With a soft sigh, she unfastened the pale ribbon from her wrist and drew her hair up into a thin ponytail. Airy tendrils of light, blond hair floated around her face, but she paid no heed to them. Exhaustion had casted deep shadows in the hollows of her cheeks and eyes.

She leaned against the edge of the dining room table, lightly gripping her bat.

The grimy thing felt disgusting in her hand. Her lip curled with disgust as she raked her nails over a patch of crusted blood. Burgundy flakes twirled listlessly through the empty air before landing gracefully on the floor.

She almost pitied Bethany; the brat, even with her thinned out cheeks and bony knees, somehow possessed enough energy to grip onto the food so tightly. Even Gemma, with her stony stare, couldn't seem to quash Bethany's resolve to eat a packet of expired wafers.

With a glance at the nearly empty food box, she returned her attention to the escalating confrontation.

"Where did you find them?"

Gemma felt the side of her face begin to twitch. It was very slight, but did not go unnoticed by the other girl. When Bethany remained silent, Gemma leaned in close, unable to contain her agitation any longer.

She sharply yanked Bethany's bedraggled pigtails upwards, forcing the smaller girl to meet her gaze.

It was the afternoon, judging by the warm, golden light that filtered through the cracks of the boarded windows.

The sunlight casted eerie stripes against Gemma's quivering face, one in particular highlighting her bright, green eyes. They were smooth and cold, containing the faintest spark of anger. Bethany nervously thumbed the wafers.

The crackle of cellophane was nearly deafening.

"You won't tell?"

"I only found one."

The lie sounded unconvincing to Bethany's own ears. Gemma froze. Other than Bethany's labored breathing, no sound hovered between the two. Saoirse's eyes flickered from one face to the other.

Gradually, Gemma brought a hand to her forehead, cupping it as if she was checking for a fever. Her eyes were shut.

"So there was more?" Her tone was no longer demanding. Instead, she sounded terribly pained, as if the little chuckle that followed afterwards required immense effort.

Slowly, she slid out the kitchen knife from the waistband of her skirt.

She pressed the blade lightly against Bethany's cheek. The chill of the metal sank past her grimy skin, worn muscles, and aching bones. She felt an unspeakable ache at her core, so painful and horrible, it nearly made her breathless. Quivering, Bethany stared into Gemma's hard eyes.

Saoirse eyed both Gemma and Bethany warily, firmly grasping her bat. Gemma took in a shallow breath. That sound, the mere intake of air, seemed to hover over them for what felt like hours.

"You're getting food this time. Alone."

Bethany blinked.

Disbelief written all over her face, Saoirse took a step forward, still holding the bat.

Food runs were a suicide mission. Most, if not all, of the time, Alek and Gemma did the scavenging. They were strong and fast, never taking any more time than they needed. That crisp awareness was something Bethany just didn't have. Sending out a coddled brat like Bethany, alone, was no better than tossing her right to the zombies.

"Gemma, you can't be serious! She'll die out there!"

"She's too hungry to die."

Despite her slight smile, there was no hint of teasing in Gemma's voice.

Bethany blinked twice.

"What...what are you—"

"You go to the city tomorrow. You come back tomorrow night. In addition to the canned goods, I want you to bring back triple the stash you hid from the group."

"I hid nothing! I—"

Gemma dug the knife into Bethany's cheek, creating a thin line along her cheekbone. Bethany cried out in pain, earning a swift kick to the chest. She fell hard, painfully knocking her head in the process.

"We're all starving and exhausted. But you...just how many boxes did you find? Two, three?"

Bethany, still on the ground, looked away from Gemma. Instead, she focused on Saoirse's shoes, which were navy and dirty just like hers.

"One. Just one," she said softly. Tears fell freely now, leaving glistening trails on her filthy cheeks.

"Get up," Gemma commanded. With her free hand, she roughly pulled up Bethany by the arm. Ignoring Bethany's screams, she dragged her knife across Bethany's other cheek.

"Remember, triple the stash."

a/n:

I only own my OCs. I do not own TWD or its characters.

With that aside, thank you for reading.

Leaving me a review would be wonderful. :]

Constructive criticism, thoughts, and speculations are all welcome.

Also, I understand that this chapter is a bit confusing. That's the point. So stick around, and questions you have, or may later have, will most likely be answered.

So...WHOOOOO. Thanks, again!