First fan fiction. I don't own walking dead or any of its characters other than my oc(s). Rated M for later chapters.
"Anne," cooed a voice from the door of her room. Ten year old Anastasia cowered underneath the bed sheets; knowing and dreeding what would come next. Only one person in the world called her by that name. A name she had come to despise in her short life. Her little body trembled with sheer terror as she felt her mattress dip at her side. The bed frame groaned in protest as though it knew an intruder had unwelcomly invaded. The soft covers that had protected her were slowly pulled away to reveal her tearful brown eyes and tiny quaking figure.
"Please," she choked back a sob, "not again."
"Oh, but Anne," whispered the deep male voice as he laid down and placed a hand on her thigh. "You are just too beautiful. Besides, it's not as though anyone else will ever love you."
Anastasia looked up at her step-father pleadingly.
"Please." She wimpered once more as she gazed into his unrelenting grey-green eyes, searching for any humanity but finding none.
"Hush now," he warned, beginning to lose his patience, "This will all be over soon..."
Anastasia bolted upright, drenched in sweat, and tried no to show her inner panic. Looking around she was relieved to see her two companions were still very much asleep. Taking a few deep, calming breaths she hoisted herself into a standing position and tiptoed past their sleeping forms; making her way to the front of the room. Spending the night on an old bathroom floor of a state park was uncomfortable to say the least. However, it was preferred over spending the night outside with the dead roaming about.
She stationed herself in front of a mirror and sighed. She bearly recognized the eighteen year old in the mirror. It seemed a lifetime ago but the tips of her plain brown hair, tangled as it was, still faintly showed the auburn highlights it once held. Her simple brown eyes held no spark. The bags under them made her look like she had lost a fist fight. The t-shirt she wore was much too large and hid what little figure she had. Her pants were, in actuality, men's jeans held on by a piece of brown string and the legs had been cut to fit her 5'2 frame.
"Critisizing ourselves again I see." came a quiet voice and Anastasia couldn't help but grin slightly. She turned and looked at her best friend, James. A small giggle escaped her lips as she replied,
"Oh you're one to talk. I think you spent a whole hour crying over fingernails last week."
"That," he huffed jokingly, "is completely different. You never know when you'll meet he right guy." He winked at her just before a sweatshirt hit his face.
"Would you two pleeease keep it down?!?" whined a third voice as their other friend, Josh buried his head into his pack. "Some of us actually like sleep around here."
Anastasia and James both rolled their eyes as James stood, stretched, and groaned a little before joining Anastasia in front of the mirror. Concern shown through James' ocean blue eyes as he caught sight of the bags under Anastasia' s eyes.
"Bad dreams again?" He questioned gently. Her only response was a quick nod.
"It was about him wasn't it, Ana?"
"I think I saw a small pond last night." She interrupted, trying to change the subject, "We can stop there and wash up before heading out." She flinched as a hand came to rest on her arm. She looked at James who's gaze held no pity. Only understanding as he whispered,
"You are stronger than the nightmares. He'll never hurt you again. And if he isn't dead already," He paused and leaned in a little more, "I'll kill him when we get you home, I swear." Then he turned back to his own reflection; releasing her arm in the process.
Anastasia knew he was serious, and she loved him fiercely for that. She had grown to love "her boys" and was well aware they enjoyed her company as well. They were 14 when they had all met. A year before the world went to shit. They had stuck together through thick and thin. Ana was there when both James and Josh came out to each of their families. They had stayed with her each time she was admitted to the hospital...
Ana shook her head, willing her thoughts away from her step-father's constant abuse. He was gone. She needed to focus on getting the three of them home alive.
She squared her shoulders and grinned; just before whipping the sweatshirt back at Josh. "Lets go lover boy!" she sang as she made her way to the exit. "Otherwise James and I will get washed up without you."