She slowly became aware, consciousness gently tugging at the corners of her mind.
Air. That's what registered first, she couldn't get any air. Her chest was tight and her mouth wouldn't open and she couldn't breathe.
Things started flashing through her mind. Brief slices of memory or dream, she didn't know.
Dawn. The scissors she was aiming at her neck but was only able to reach the meat of her shoulder.
Rick. Daryl.
She was hazy on the details, but she was sure all of that had happened now.
She was also fairly sure that she was alive, and that wherever she was it wasn't right.
She tried to open her eyes but felt a substance against her eyes that was making it difficult, same with her arms and legs. Panic started to seep in, overwhelming her senses and drowning out the blinding pain she was feeling in her head.
As the panic took hold she started to thrash. She moved her arms and legs as violently as she could, a desperate scream ripping from her throat and then she was choking. Her lungs burned as she tried to take in a gulp of air and was met with…..dirt?
She used every bit of strength she had and yanked her arms above her head and she could feel cool air.
I'm buried. They buried me.
She desperately grasped at the surface, clawing at the dirt above her, searching for some kind of hold something to anchor herself out of her own grave.
She felt something grasp her hands and cold dread filled her. Walker.
Wouldn't that just be the way? Survive a bullet wound to the head, and being buried a live to be taken out by a stupid ol' walker?
But no bite followed, no the hand reached into the dirt and grasped her by the head pulling her from the cold, dark earth.
Her eyes flew open and she was coughing violently, her hands instinctively reaching up to shield herself when she her face was met with the tail end of a hatchet.
She barely registered the masked face that belonged to the man holding the hatchet before the man was tugging off his mask, staring at her like she was a ghost.
Guess I kinda am.
Her coughing continued, and soon the man was pulling a water bottle from his pack and cupping the back of her head, gently tipping the water bottle to her dirt covered lips.
"Drink, drink. You're alright."
The water soothed her burning throat, and her breaths were coming easier. Drawing attention to the fierce ache in her skull.
Her hand slowly reached up to touch her head, where dried blood had crusted around her temple.
What the hell happened?
"What happened to you girl?" The man echoed her thoughts. She shakily met his eyes, the warmth and strength in her slightly slowing her rapidly beating heart.
She tried to speak but words wouldn't form, her throat still burning from the lack of air and the dirt.
She weakly reached for the bottle of water again, the man gently bringing it to her lips.
"I'm gonna take a look at your head, that alright?"
She nodded and then winced, the action sending bursts of pain throughout her head.
His gloved hands laid her slowly down, bringing out a small flashlight and checking her pupils, probing her temples and sinuses with his fingers. Next slowly tilting her head upwards so that he could test the back of her head.
"Jesus." He breathed. "You survived a shot to the head, girl."
Against all reason, despite the fact that her head felt like it was on fire, and she still had residual dirt in her lungs. Beth laughed.
She's not just another dead girl.