I was unprepared.

Then again, so was the rest of the nation.

They blamed it on drug addicts, bath salts, even God himself.

You know what I think? I think we deserved it. Between the wars, the murders, rape, assault...maybe they aren't the true monsters.

Maybe all along, it was us.

This was our punishment- whether it came from God, a batshit crazy scientist, or some other outside force, I can't help but think one thing.

We deserved it.

Who am I, you may ask? Well, I'm Arilla Logan.

And I'm a monster.


OOC; Welp...there we go. Corny title, and teeny-tiny introduction to my Walking Dead character. I haven't really decided what to do with her yet...The Walking Dead isn't a very happy world, so she won't be a very happy character. She'll probably have a gay best friend who tries to lighten her up constantly. She might have a big brother who never ceases to shut his trap. Or a flirty, 50-year-old badass aunt. But I don't know yet. The possibilities are endless.

Your fate is in my hands, Arilla. Be scared.

Sadly, Walking Dead does not belong to me- but Arilla? Sadly, she does.