Hey guys! So this is actually my very first fan fic and I'm super excited to be posting it! I expect myself to be posting every Friday or Saturday, but definitely not throughout the week because of school. Please review, for I'd love to see on how i can improve.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead or any of its characters besides my own.

"It is the strange fate of man, that even in the greatest of evils the fear of the worst continues to haunt him." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I gently open my eyes and hope that it'll all be gone. These days, I don't have much hope left in me, not since my mother died. Originally, we had made it out. We lived in a town a few miles off from Atlanta and got out as soon as it all began. There were promised refugees in Atlanta, and the government assured us we'd be safe. But we didn't believe them. This was god's will. This is what He wanted to happen. Though these days, He doesn't exist. I guess He must've died off, too.

I hopped down from the tree, and arranged all of my things together. I secured my knife in my boot, and another in my belt. I checked my gun, making sure it had some rounds still left in it, and also placed it in my belt as well. I place the straps of my backpack amongst my shoulders and adjusted my back. It wasn't so heavy honestly. I had food, water, clothes, and some ammo, but it was mostly clothing inside of it. I also had a book, too. It was my mother's book of quotes. Every time she learned a new quote, she'd write it down along with a picture of a person, place, or thing. It was probably the most important thing I had.

I took the picture I had in my pocket out and examined the faces. My mother looked so beautiful and young. Her flawless dark brown hair dangled below her shoulders, and her smile whitened the whole picture. Her grey eyes danced in the light. She looked so happy next to my father and I. My father, too, looked so young and handsome. He was a pretty tall man, compared to my mother. She wasn't short, but shorter than my father. He was also very fit and slightly muscular. His really wavy hair goes majestically with his chocolate brown eyes were still filled with life at that time. Before he got sick. My father died in peace, and never came back. He died before this thing happened. He had pancreatic cancer a few years before this began. And it's just been my mother and I ever since. These days, it's just me.

I also took a quick glance at myself, too. I take into consideration that I've changed a lot. Im taller, a bit more tan, and my wavy hair has grown to mid back. My fair skin tone is now a bit darker, for I have a golden glow to me. The only thing that still remains are the color of my light brown hair and my grey eyes. But even they, too, have lost their shine, along with my innocence.

The thought of happiness makes me tear up. I still try to remain happy, and think of all the wonderful memories I had with my parents. But then I realize that they're just that: memories. And that I will never be able to make more memories with them again. And so the empty thought is replaced by nothing.

Reality strikes back as I hear some shuffling of leaves to the right of me. I quiet my thoughts as I try to focus on what could have made the sound. I'm not surprised to find that it was indeed a walker. Before I used to call them it or them, feeling that they don't deserve to be called anything. But I decided to just call them walkers, for that's what my mother had suggested. I quickly grab my knife from my belt and stab the walker in its head. A bit of blood splatters on my fingers and his head, but I'll just wash it off in the stream down ahead.

I used to be afraid of these walkers. I didn't know how to kill them, and felt remorse for killing them. But my mother told me that the only thing you should fear, is fear itself. I didn't know what she meant until the day she got bit. I didn't cry when it had happened, for I knew what I had to do. I comforted her in her last moments, and lingered on the words of encouragement and endearment that she had told me. "My beautiful Isabella. You're so strong, so brave. Daddy and I are so proud of you. You are the best thing we have ever done. Don't let our name die, Bella. I know you'll do fine without me. Just remember what I taught you. Don't get scared my love, they won't hurt you if you're not scared. We'll be watching over you, my sweet, sweet girl. I love you. I'll tell daddy you love him too." She let out a few screams of pain, but then began to quiet down and stifled on a smile. Her eyes closed with the smile still on her lips, and I felt her grasp of me loosen. I knew what I had to do. I took the knife that was lying on the floor next to us from when my mother had dropped it after she had killed the walker that had bit her. I gripped the knife in my hands tightly, and held them in front of me. I kissed my mother's cheek and told her I love her and that I'm sorry for what I had to do. I shoved the knife into my mother's head and past her skull, killing her brain. I took the knife back out and stood up and I looked at her. She still had the smile on her lips. I noticed I hadn't cried throughout her death, and even after what I had just done. But then I realized something from that moment. I wasn't scared of walkers anymore, I was scared of being alone. And that's when the tears began to stream down my face.

So I might be posting again tonight, so come back later just to make sure. Thanks guys, and don't forget to review and follow! i have so much planned for this story and i can't wait to share it with you all!