A/n: Hi! Yes, it is is, Pikacheeks! I've decided that I wanna write a Nickentine (Or would it be Click?) story as well as a Cluke one. I'm not sure if I want to make this romantic or not. My mind is telling me "no", but my body... My body is telling me "yes". Anyways, let me know what you guys think! Thank you, love you and don't forget to review!~

"How's she look?"

The question hangs thick in the air.

The doctor looks at me with sharp eyes. He told me I had manipulated his daughter; used her to my advantage. He said I wasn't to be trusted. And whatever he said next would determine my fate.

I knew that it was a dog bite. He knew it as well, but something in my gut told me that he would use my injury as a way to dispose of me.

I sat on a a stool at the bar-style counter top in the kitchen with the doctor (Carlos, was his name), Luke, who was one of the guys who found me, and Nick, the guy who almost shot my face off. The entire room was illuminated by candlelight, as well as a lantern that sat on top of the table. Next to it, was Nick's rifle.

He stood with his back against the wall, chewing on his thumbnail. He seemed anxious and I knew why. I don't think he wanted to kill me, but if Carlos gave the word, then Nick would drag me outside and shoot me in the head, thus ending my brief (and quite frankly, shitty), eighteen-year long life.

I couldn't blame him though. If I were in his shitty, red cap, I'd do the same thing.

I look at Carlos, who is staring at me intently. He doesn't like me. In fact, he had known me for all of five minutes when he decided that he hated me. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"It's a lurker bite."

Luke shakes his head, "Fuck. You're sure, Carlos? It really didn't seem like it."

Carlos stands up, walking over to the sink and washing his hands. "Yes. I've seen plenty of lurker bites, and that's definitely one of them."

You fucking liar.

I want to scream and yell. I want to grab a knife from the wooden block and kill him with it. Carlos has sentenced me to death.

Nick pushes himself off the wall, picking up his rifle and the lantern. "C'mon, then."

I look up at Luke, who gives me a sad look. He had hoped that I wasn't bitten, in fact, I think he also knew that I wasn't bitten. But he wouldn't contradict what Carlos had said, because that wouldn't go over well with the group. Standing up for my life would mean giving up his.

I push myself off the counter top, my arm twinging from the pain. I consider grabbing a knife, to fight back, but decide against it. It could be the difference between possibly getting shot out there and definitely getting shot in here. I look back at Carlos and Luke, who are watching me, waiting for me to leave.

"I hope you can live with yourself." I hiss at Carlos.

He face gives no hint of emotion, no regret, nothing, but satisfaction. Luke looks at the doctor warily, but says nothing.

I follow Nick out the front door. Once we're outside, he makes me stand in front of him, and he shoves my back with the end of his gun, signalling for me to move forward. We walk for a long time and he doesn't say anything. Not until I initiate the conversation.

"You do know that I wasn't bitten by a walker, right?" I ask condescendingly.

"Is that so? Why did Carlos say you were then, huh?"

"He hates me." I answer.

Nick spits, "He doesn't even know you, how could he hate you? That's the worst fucking lie I've ever heard."

"Fine then, don't fucking believe me," I growl, "But I hope you can live with the blood of an innocent girl on your hands for the rest of your life."

He shoves the barrel of the gun into my back, jutting me forward. "Shut the fuck up!"

My back throbs with pain, but I bite my lip and grit my teeth. "Fine, then," I say, "But you'll find out. No one can live with that guilt. Cause when you go back after you've killed me, everyone will think you've done them all a great service, but Carlos will know what you both have done. And there's no way he can keep that hidden, he's got a daughter of his own, after all. Then, in a moment of weakness, he'll tell you; he'll say in his stupid accent: 'Oh Nick, you remember that girl I said was bitten all those years ago? I lied. I fucking lied about it and now you're a murderer cause you put a bullet in her fucking skull'. And you'll think of me and you'll want to put a bullet in your own goddamn head. Is that what you want, Nick?"

"Shut the fuck up." He repeats.

Are you kidding me? That was the most bad-ass monologue in the history of the world and he's just gonna shrug it off? Fuck this guy.

When we get far enough from the cabin, he juts me with his rifle, one more time.

"Here. Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head." He orders.

I let out a deep breath, doing as he told me to. How was I going to get myself out of this one? How could I possibly? He was bigger than me (he was kind of scrawny though), he had a fucking rifle, and he already didn't like me. There was nothing I could do. Was I going to die here? After everything I had gone through with Lee, Omid, and Christa, this was how I was going to meet my end?

"Anything you wanna say before you die?"

I feel myself lean forward and I try to stop them, but I can't. Tears, hot and salty, stream down my face in rivulets. I'm crying, gasping for air.

"Lee," I choke out, "I'm sorry, Lee. I'm not strong like you said I was, I can't take care of myself! I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I crumple into myself, sobbing uncontrollably, waiting for Nick to shoot me. Waiting for this to be over.

I hear the crunching of leaves as Nick steps forward and presses the barrel of the rifle against the back of my head.

This is it.

This is how I die.