Hello there and welcome to my first Walking Dead story. If you are here because you read the first version, I owe you a bit of an explanation. I didn't like it. It was too slow, too dramatic, too "Mary Sue". And I decided not to torture you or myself anymore. So, here we go again. Same girl, same story. Quinn Greene, Hershel's eldest daughter. THIS ONE, THIS STORY starts right where the other one ended, so I wouldn't say it was a waste of time reading it. And if you are reading this later on, you should know I deleted that story 24h after publishing this one. I just had to do it. THIS is me. THAT one was overly dramatic me. This story is better. It starts with a bit more action, without such a detailed backstory. I like this start much, much better, and I hope you do as well. I have to bore you a little bit now: please, if you like the story (or hate it), take your time to review it if you want to. Those of you who write stories know how difficult it is to continue when you have no idea if people actually like it or not. And I'm open for any suggestions and ideas. This is your story as much as it is mine.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. I will be updating soon. (khm, soon = day or two) :)

Much love, AnnieDD

I open my eyes to find the sunlight shining directly on my face. I frown, turning on my side.

I wish I was reliving one of those movie moments when the main character wakes up, not knowing where he or she is, or how did he or she end up there. I'm not having that moment. I know exactly where I am. And even better than that, I know exactly how I got here.

My childhood bedroom did not change much, I must admit. There was still a cool ass Oasis poster on the wall. My bed still had way too many pillows on it, much more than I needed. There was still one whole wall, dedicated mostly to the photographs of my friends and family.

I remember the day I walked back into this room, after being away from it for four years. I remember it, clear as day, as I don't think I was ever surprised as I was then. I was so sure Dad would change it, destroy it even.

And he didn't. Everything was exactly the same as it was the way I left it. The only change was that it was much cleaner now.

I left with a big bang that day. If my kid acted that way to me, I'm not sure if I would have done the same thing Hershel did. But to the defense of an 18 year old me, part of it was Dad's fault.

I think Annette and Maggie must have had something to do with it. As headstrong as he is, Dad always had a soft spot for his wife and his middle child.

When I came back, for the first time, when I was 22, it was the same as it was the day that I left. When I came back again a year later, it was still the same. And now, about 6 years since the day I left, it's still the same as I left it. The only real, noticeable change was the framed photo, staring right at me.

I grab it from the nightstand. This was Maggie's doing, or maybe Beth's.

Julia took this photo some two years ago. It's one of those candid, casual, spontaneous photos that you parade for years, because no matter how hard you try to recreate it, it never really works like it did then.

James and I, laughing like the idiots that we were. I'm leaning onto him and he has his arm around me, and our genuine laughter is frozen as proof, forever. All we're missing is Santa hats and a nice Christmas tree behind us, and it would make a perfect holiday card, that your acquaintances could laugh at before throwing it in the garbage and going back to their equally perfect lives.

James and I were not the types for holiday cards. We were too cool for that.

My God, were we cool! We were the ultimate power couple. We didn't need anyone but each other. We would binge watch shitty TV shows, we would go to concerts and gigs at least once a month, and we would make each other laugh every bloody day. We made each other happy.

And now that's gone.

Not stopping to consider my actions, I throw that frame directly at the wall, with all the strength I had in me. It's not much, but I still manage to make the frame shatter all around the old, wooden floorboards.

It makes a perfect metaphor. It used to be a whole thing, and now, it's shattered into a thousand little pieces that no matter how hard you tried, you could never really glue back together.

And that's kind of what I feel like right now.

Throwing that frame was not one of my brightest moments. Not only did I regret doing it as soon as I did it, but I draw attention to myself. I hear footsteps just seconds after the frame hit the wall.

"Quinn, what the hell?" Maggie asks as she barges into my room. It doesn't take her long to find the source of the noise I made. She looks at me as she picks up the photo out of the broken glass. I shrug.

I don't care. I did it, and that's the way it is. Granted, I should not have done it, but I should not have seen it either. I was not ready to be met face to face with something that no longer exists.

"How long was I out?" I ask her. Judging by my voice, it's been days; my throat is so dry I can barely talk.

"Three days, in and out." Maggie tells me, getting up from the floor." I'm gonna go get you a glass of water. Don't break anything else while I'm away, please." She tells me, and the only reaction she gets from me, is a middle finger which she ignores. She doesn't close the door after her, but she is back.

I did not even realize how thirsty I was until I took the first sip. I down the whole glass in seconds.

"Is there anything wrong with me?" I ask her when she takes the empty glass from me.

"No. You were just exhausted. But now I think you might be having a nervous breakdown." She tells me.

"I'm not." I reassure her, as I sit up in my bed." I'm okay. As okay as I can be, given the current situation. I just did not want to look at that photo. I will clean it up, don't worry." I tell her.

"Quinn, what happened?" she asks me." You said things, but you were in shock and out of breath, and you fainted in the middle of a sentence. The only thing we know is that James…"

"Is dead." I said, finishing her sentence instead of her." That's really the only plot twist that matters. We landed on the Atlanta airport and we were still there when it started. It was one big mess. We both knew that it was a bad idea to stay there, even though we were the only ones moving in the other direction. I don't even know how long we were out there. Long story short, it wasn't easy, but we got up to the highway, just miles from here. He found a bike and was trying to find some gas, in case we need it. They got to him. The last thing he said to me was to go to the farm, which is what I did." I tell her.

I am cheap on details. I tell her only what she needs to know and I keep the rest to myself. For one, I do not want her to know what James and I had to do in order to get on the highway in the first place. And two, I have no idea what the hell is happening with them over here. With any luck, they were away from all of what James and I had to go through. And last, but not least, I don't want to relieve it, not yet.

"Jesus, Quinn, I'm so sorry." Maggie tells me, and when I look at her, I see tears in her eyes. I smile.

"I know honey. And I'm sorry too." I say. I feel the tears fill up my eyes. I haven't done much crying in the last three days, as I was basically comatose, but apparently, I'm about to catch up on it. And Maggie pulling me in a tight hug is not helping me keep myself together.

"You're safe now." She mumbles and I nod my head." You'll be safe here with us. You're home."

"Oh Maggie, how can it be home without him?" I ask her and her squeeze only becomes tighter.

"Honey, you have us. You will always have us." She tells me as she pulls away and I nod. That is the only silver lining I can see right now. At least I still have them. My family may be missing one very important chunk of it right now, but at least I have the bigger part with me." Dad's out, so he can't check on you, but he told me that if you wake up, you shouldn't leave your bed. You still need your rest."
"Leave it to Hershel, to be bossy even from a safe distance." I mumble and Maggie smiles at me.

"Come on, he knows what he's talking about. You've been through a lot. You didn't eat much while you were on your way here, did you?" She asks and I shake my head." Exactly. You need time to rest, to get some of your strength back. And you also need time to grief." She adds and I actually laugh this time.

"Maggie, my fiancé was ripped apart and eaten alive right in front of me." I say and I actually see her wince. I went into too much detail. Shit. I imagined she had a good idea of what happened to him." That will not be fixed with a couple of days of bed rest. But I'll do it. Dad says I should do it, so I'll do it. But if you don't want me to move from my bed, you'd better bring me something to eat, because I'm starving and I'm minutes away from running downstairs to raid the fridge." I say and my sister smiles at me.

"Okay. I'll be right back."

I open my eyes and I realize that it is dark outside. I look at my bedside table and I see a glass of orange juice, as well as a sandwich. Raising myself up, I look to the other side of the room. There's no broken glass on the floor. No glass, no frame, no photo.

I must have been out of it by the time Maggie was back with my food.

Food!

I can feel pain in my arm and I know they must have given me an IV or two. After all, they had to keep me alive somehow, and I was already starving when I got here, not having eaten a proper meal in days before. I grab that sandwich, and damn, it tastes better than the finest NY strip steak I've ever had.

Good old, homemade, ham. It would taste amazing even if I wasn't as hungry as I am.

And now I really need a cigarette.

I get up. I know Dad gave me instructions not to do so, but I'm hardly gonna walk a long way. I walk over to my backpack, which still had one pack in it; a pack I was rationing. I do a quick count, realizing that 11 cigarettes isn't such a bad situation. Well, ten, as I lean on my open window and light one.

My mom died when I was very young; I was only seven. I did not understand the concept of grief, not back then. The only thing I really knew was that I don't have a mom anymore. It was not easy. Hell, it was, to this day, the most difficult thing I ever had to deal with, mainly because I didn't understand.

Okay, I don't have a mom anymore. But why? Why won't she tuck me in anymore? Why won't she make me breakfast? Why won't she teach me how to bake chocolate chip cookies? Why? Why? Why?

Of course, when I grew up, I knew why. I did not like it, and I did not find it fair, by any means, but at least I could understand that my mom was ill. And that that's a perfect example of life being a bitch.

I was fortunate enough not to lose anyone else, not until a couple of days ago. I was estranged from a part of my family for years, but not talking to my Dad can't compare to losing your loved one.

Here I am now, 24, faced with grief, and this time around, I understand the concept. And I still wonder why. Why did this happen to me? Why James? Why has our whole world gone to shit? Why did the dead start rising and start using the living ones as food? Why did I have to see it? Why? Why? Why?

This time around, I have no answers. "That's the way life is" is no longer an acceptable answer. James was not ill. He was healthy as a horse, young and full of life. "That's the way life is" does not cover people being eaten alive by what used to be another human being. It simply doesn't cover it.

I always thought of myself as independent, and now I have to face the fact that I am not.

I relied too much on James. For everything.

And I don't mean that he was always there to fix the kitchen sink, or change a flat tire. I relied on him as a constant presence in my life. I did not even stop and imagine my life without him.

I always knew he would die eventually. It's just that I did not expect it to happen this fast. And I suppose I kind of always thought I would be the first to go. Why, I don't know.

For the last three years, he was in my life constantly. Every single day. I never imagined my life without him. It's only now that I realize just how much I needed him.

I guess that's the way it works. You think you know, but then you lose them. And it's a different story.

I can't believe this is my life now. I don't know what to do anymore. I simply don't know.

"You will never quit, will ya?" I jump at the sound of Dad's voice. I did not see him or hear him, but when I turn around, he is there. Looking as worried as ever, with a small smile on his old face.

I throw out the cigarette out of the window and I walk over to him. He stares at me, for a couple of seconds, before opening his arms. I can't remember the last time I hugged him like this.

"How are you feeling, Quinn?" He asks me as I pull away from the hug.
"Sad. Empty. Yeah, it's mostly just emptiness. James died, but I'm the one who's dead on the inside."

"I'm very sorry, Quinn." He tells me and I nod.

"It's okay. There's nothing you or me could do about it. We did our best out there. It wasn't easy and we did things neither one of us was proud of. It almost worked. But he's dead and I'm still alive."

"Do you want us to have a funeral?" Dad asks me and I actually start laughing.

"Why? It's not like I have anything to bury." I say, shaking my head." Besides, James wasn't religious, you know that."
"Funerals are more for the living than they are for the dead."
"Yeah, I know. But I also know it wouldn't give me any closure. I won't get that, no matter what I do."
"Time might give you that." Dad says with a sigh." I remember when your mother died. It was just like you described it; empty. You feel empty. I also thought I could not get any closure, not then, not in the future. But after a while, I did. And I found happiness again."

"Dad, if you're suggesting the "you will love again" direction of a conversation, I'm not interested."
"Neither was i. not for years. But eventually, I was."
"I don't think I'll live long enough to love again." I say. Seeing him wince is not something I am used to.

"I thought you and I might disagree on that." He says as he sits on the edge of my bed.

"Disagree on what?" I ask him, folding my arms. It seems as if he is the child, and I am the parent, not the other way around. Sadly, I have reasons to act this way.

Hershel Greene and I disagreed a lot, ever since I was old enough to form my own opinions. We did not agree on the little things, and we didn't agree on the big things. Sometimes it was nothing important; we would drop it in a matter of minutes. Other times, it would last for days, weeks, hell, even months.

But not once, not once, did he warn me about a disagreement beforehand.

"You are a smart girl. Always have been. You chose not to believe in God." He starts and I stop him.

"No, I chose to step away from religion, not from God. If you ever bothered to listen to me, you would have heard me say that I am simply not sure of anything. I'm not a believer, I'm not an atheist. On the other hand, I'm a strongly imposed of someone pushing either one of those two choices on children."

He knows that, he knows exactly what I mean. And I don't want to have that conversation again.

"That is not a discussion I want to have, not again." he tells me.

"Good, because I don't want it either."

"My point is… My point is that you would not see faith as a way out of this." he says. I frown.

"As a way out of what?" I ask." Out of what's going on out there?" I ask, pointing to the window." Dad, I'm not sure how much time you spent out there, if you even spent any time out there at all. I was out there for days. Believe me when I tell you, God will not pull us out of this one." I say, shaking my head.

"He might."

Blindsided. That's how I feel. Blindsided.

Hershel is a man of faith and I respect that. I respect and understand that. I guess I just thought he was not blinded by it. I thought he was reasonable enough to realize that getting on your knees and praying to Jesus won't do you any good.

"Well, if God is real, than I'm sorry to inform you, but your daughter's going to hell."
"What did you do?" He asks me and I chuckle.
"What did I do? Dad, rules don't apply. Rules don't matter anymore. There are no rules. The only thing that matters is whether or not your goals are more evil than good. American laws, God's laws, it all went down the drain, big time. It's a jungle out there. It's like a reality show that had gotten out of control, only the whole world's in it, and there's no real end. People die, Dad. People die, a lot."

"What did you do?" He asks me again.

"I did what needed to be done. I did what needed to be done in order to get here. To get to you, to get to safety. I lost James, and I would not say it was successful, but I did what needed to be done. I stole, I lied, I killed." I admit. I thought I was familiar with Hershel Greene's look of disappointment, but this was on a whole other level." Oh, don't look at me like that! I didn't kill any human beings!"

"But you killed those who were infected."
"Yes, because it needed to be done! They would have killed me. They killed James, for fuck's sake, I don't think I should be justifying myself to anyone, not even you! I did what I had to do. I did not like it, and I would rather not do it again, but I had no choice. I would be dead if I made a different choice!"

"Quinn, those are sick people. Sick people who need a cure." Dad tells me. Well, shit.
"A cure?" I ask him and he nods." You think we could come back from this one?"

"People thought AIDS was a death sentence. We evolved. Medicine evolved."
"Yes, because there were people to develop medicine, to do the necessary research and test. We were able to make progress because the whole world was functioning normally. Dad, everyone out there is either dead or doing the best they can not to end up dead. You can't expect a cure for this if there is no one out there to make a cure. Did you even see those things? Did you get a good look at them? Because I did. They are not human. They do not talk; there is nothing in them, no soul, no mind. Only the basic functions. They walk, they eat. And they chose us as their favorite meal. Dad, there's no cure." I say.

I did not have enough time to think about this situation. It seemed impossible to me.

He could keep his faith and see things the way they are.

This must be denial. In reality, I can't blame him. If I was on this farm from the start, if I hadn't lost James to those things, I probably would have been in the same place he is no. I'd be in denial too. I would think there might be a cure coming; I would think that those things are just ill, ill and waiting for a cure, not ill without any possibility of going back to what they once were.

The broadcast stopped. They bombed Atlanta. Those things killed James. If I was in denial after all of that, I would proclaim myself clinically insane.

"I have to hold on to something, Quinn."
"Then hold on to your common sense."

"I am."
"You won't call this common sense when you see Maggie or Beth being ripped apart in front of you."
"That won't happen." He says, shaking his head.

"Wow. It's even worse than I thought." I say, impressed at my own stupidity. I really should have expected this. I should have known better. If I had time to do so, I would probably realize that Dad will be in some sort of denial. I guess I was just too focused on getting here in one piece." We can't make each other see things the way we see them. And that's okay. Sooner or later, we will see things the same way. I can only hope that that'll come sooner, rather than later."

"One more thing we disagree on?" He asks me and I smile at him.
"Yeah, guess so. So long as you and the rest of the family are safe, I'll handle some disagreement."

"I should go. You still need rest. We will talk more in the morning, alright?" He asks me and I nod. He kisses me on the head as he walks towards the door; one more thing that hasn't happened in a very long time." I am truly sorry about James. He was a good man, and he deserved better. You deserved better. And I am glad you are here now."
"Me too, Dad." I say, and as soon as he closes the door, panic starts.

All this time, all the time James and I were trying to make our way to the farm, I thought that this place is 100% safe. It could be, it really could. But it's not. Not now, not that I know where Hershel stands.

He is in denial, and it's going to take a big ass shock to shake him out of it.

I'm not safe here. My family is not safe here. God, I should just be happy he's not trying to be friends with those things! So long as he doesn't see the danger we're living in, the reality of this whole situation we are in, this farm's not going to be a safe place.

I need to make him see things my way. Not because it's my way, but because it's the world's way now.

Everything has changed. Just like I told them, there are no rules anymore. It's pure survival out there. And Hershel needs to know that. I can only hope he'll learn that lesson as soon as possible.

To think I planned to give myself some "time off". To grieve properly. To spend a few days, maybe even weeks, crying after James, reminiscing of what we were and imagining what we could have been. I thought I'd have the luxury to do that, and I was a fool.

I have to step right back into survival mode. Do whatever needs to be done. Make them see things as they actually are, but try not to make them hate your guts in the process.

This is gonna be more difficult than the journey to here from Atlanta was.

This is the true test. And I have no choice apart from winging it. I'm screwed. I'm so, so screwed.