Soooo…. This is part two of Rick's Posse, no longer following the storyline and Milton is also still alive for reasons unknown….

Still in the mind of Siren, my OC if you haven't read Rick's Posse. A lot more nightmares, more deaths, more Siren/Carl crime action, thinking about doing some Siren/Tobias flashbacks, uhh and pretty much torture my character like the last story.

….

The new pink skin ran down from the edge of my eye to the base of my jaw, it was a constant reminder of what I did and what I couldn't do. Nothing more than a jagged scar across a girl's face.

….

"Tobias! Tobias!"

"Its okay baby… I'm here." Arms cradled me, I sigh, safe finally.

"Good I thought you were going to leave me again."

"No sweetie… never again."

I shake myself away, tears built up in my eyes. "Carl," I say after crawling out from the blankets and into his cell. "Wake up," I whisper hoarsely. He grunts, lifting his blanket without showing me his quarter sized blue eyes. I lay down close to his chest, one of his small arms wrap around me and I feel safe enough not to sob into my hands.

The Governor was not dead. Instead, we took his entire population of people, allowing them into our open arms. At first, I thought it was a beautiful idea, we were gathering the humanity I thought we had lost a long time ago. But now I can hardly sleep without thinking of them turning on us. Even though they were old and brittle, there are a lot of them, and we just let them into our cells, let them have our food, shelter and love without the need for thanks.

I close my eyes, trying to maintain sanity and keep my thoughts from ripping me apart. Knowing myself, it doesn't take long before my mind wonders again. To the old and young. To my dream. To Tobias. A painful lump in my throat hardens and secretly I let a tear fall before falling back into darkness.

…..

The sun lightly scraps my face, black curls tickling my cheeks. I yawn, stretching my arm expecting to hit a sleeping Carl. Instead, my arm falls flat on an empty, cold mattress. I groan, rolling on my back and staring at the rusted springs.

I can already hear the quite murmur of the Woodbury newbies. The old women are talking about yarn and skin problems, the men the same thing, only instead of yarn, bird adaptation. None of the old people are nice. Not the bakin' some cookies type elderlies; they were the, grumpy, stay off my mother friggin' lawn, type. Most of them hate me anyways… the feeling is shared. Then we have those ungrateful, snotty, messy kids. Kinda all fat if you ask me, and very needy. And I used to love kids! What happened? See what they did?

Rick says I'm being harsh on them. That they have just entered this new world of death and violence. Says I need to be more supportive. When he turned around, I flipped him off….

"Siren," a cool voice asked emotionlessly. It was a deep, calming voice of Tyrese, a man that has apparently been here before. I peeked up at him. One buff arm leaned against the door frame, the other clutching a rifle.

"Whatcha need," I say, yawning in the middle of the sentence.

"Actually Rick is the one that needs you. Says he needs to discuss what happened with The Governor and you."

I frown, dreading this conversation for a month. I decide to play it cool… avoid the subject. "Since when are you Rick's errand boy, isn't that Daryl's job?" I gulp knowing I'd regret saying that later. Tyrese doesn't reply, only gives me a scowl and struts away.

Rick wants to talk about what happened in the tombs. Usually I'd be able to wiggle my way out of something like this but when you have a scar across your face as a constant reminder to the world what happened it gets hard. I kick the blankets off, rubbing my eyes and not bothering to change out of the boxers and baggy AC/DC shirt.

"Morning Carol," I wave shyly when I see Carol cradling the small human.

"It's actually the middle of the afternoon," snapped the frail woman in an irritated voice. "Maybe if you didn't stay up all night playing poker with Maggie and Glenn you could've woken up at an appropriate time."

I scratch the back of my head. "Yeah well," I shrug, rolling my eyes and walking down the end of the catwalk. I jump onto the railing of the stairs, sliding down the metal rails, cause I'm just that cool. I cock an eyebrow at the group of kids at the end. "Don't try that at home kids."

"I've seen better," a girl with blonde curls and bright red lips snickers, chewing on a chunk of jerky. Her name was Sally, she was basically the leader of the children mafia here. A real bitch if you know what I mean.

I glare at her. "You seen Rick around here? Or are you too busy wishing you were back under that crazy maniacs rule? I mean at least there was hot water there!"

"He's in his special place," a small, mousy voice answers as Sally glares at me. Don't give me crap cause I don't know all their names. There is a lot of them okay. So what if I don't know one little name.

I nod and walk past the children mafia squad, slipping into a pair of combat boots by the door before going outside.

God I hate Georgia. Too freaking sunny. The sun stabbed my pupils, purposely making me wince and shield my eyes. I fond Rick at the top of one of the towers. The Love Shake had been brutally burned by one of The Governor's henchmen, but we still had the one.

"Hey Rick you wanted me," I shout up when I get closer. He pulls the binoculars from his eyes, staring me down with those blue eyes.

"Yeah come 'ere," his voice is raspy and hard, I gulp and know he's in one of his moods. The entire way up the stairs, I can feel my heart racing. My stomach goes in knots. I finally reach the top, wind blowing through me and slapping my bare legs.

Rick grips the railing tightly, causing the tips of his knuckles to turn pasty white. "Tyrese said you wanted to talk about what happened last month?"

He doesn't look at me. Maybe hiding disappointment or anger, both scare me half to death. Finally, he turns his head, the blue eyes ice cold and demanding. It was anger. "You still having those nightmares?"

"What…" my body became stiff, heart racing a hundred miles an hour. "… I…."

"Do you still hear him Siren?" Rick's eyes lock onto mine, holding me in place. "Tobias?"

I don't answer. My heart sinks to my stomach heavily, then shatters.

"Last month you proved to me all I was worried about. Stupidity got the best of you and you just about ruined everything."

Tears build at the bottom of my eyes. "…I'm—"

"Save it Siren," Rick turns away from me again, staring off into space and a scowl on his face. "Fall is coming to an end… we have… another two months or so before it starts to snow, and I don't know how much food and supplies we're going to need for all these people. Last winter was one of the hardest."

I cross my arms, shivering and trying to wipe away tears. "What do you suppose we do?"

"Supply runs… a lot more of them. I need to know you aren't going to pull what you did last month. You need to oboe orders like lives depend on it—because they do." He looks at me, his blue eyes softer, eyebrows arched.

"Yeah," I say with my purple lips trembling.

"You can drive right?"

I chuckle, driving hasn't been on my mind since I was a fresh, not-so-innocent fifteen year old girl, daydreaming about cross-country travel. "Nope, but I'm sure one of those prehistoric newbies will still know."

His lips remain in a straight, unmoving line. "I'll get someone on that, until then think of some people to go with you, Daryl and Tyrese are off-limits, I need them here. Carl…" Rick sighs, him and Carl haven't exactly seen eye to eye lately, "Carl is to stay here also." I nod, excited and frightened with the idea of venturing off. "I've already spoken to Maggie and Glenn about it, maybe you guys can just have a three-sum."

I burst into immature laughter, it only shows by Rick's blank, confused face how old he really is. "I'm sorry," I say with a cheap grin, trying to withhold more laughter. "That sounds great… really. I'll try and convince one of them to teach me how to drive."

Rick nods, staring off into space again. I'm giggling all the way down the stairs until I get to the end and walk back outside.

…

"No! No! No! This is all wrong!" An old woman from Woodbury throws the oatmeal at my head.

"Jesus Crist woman!" She could have killed me with the way she threw. Oatmeal slugged down the wall, the orange plastic bowl falling to the floor empty.

"You watch your pretty mouth girl," she warns with her wrinkly, long finger. Her name was Cynthia, she had yellowing teeth, stark white hair and blood-shot blue eyes. She crosses her flabby arms angrily.

"Well I'm sorry I don't make instant oatmeal as good as Beth does! But you just wasted a perfectly good meal! There are dead kids in Africa because there isn't enough food!"

"There're dead kid all over the world," she snickers, scrunching her nose, "its just too bad you aren't."

"Ugh! Why are you being so difficult! The baby eats better than you do!" I try and scrape the oatmeal off the wall with a bent metal spoon, cursing under my breath.

"I'll wash your mouth out with soap girlie! Shut your face and take me back to my room!" I didn't doubt she would wash my mouth out, but she was condemned to a wheel chair and probably wouldn't get too far. I reluctantly roll her to her cell, glaring at her as I leave the cell, debating whether to lock her away.