~+~Author's note~+~
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
Okay, so I know I didn't post it two days ago like I should have, but I had a lot jam-packed into this week. I made it a slightly longer chapter with a bit of a twist today that I hope you will all enjoy! To answer my epic reviewer (she and I are besties, hahah), I intend to do with the story as I please—I'll stick to the plot on some things but alter others to how I think it should happen to create the character changes I want! So it won't be a total deviation, but I hope you all like all the changes I have planned out. And no, I'm not giving any other spoilers. Lol! Except that I'm not going to kill off Daryl or Beth. Thank you for the follows/reviews/reads! I'm glad that so many people have read my story. Please, enjoy!
"Dear diary, despite everyone's efforts and going out of their way to keep us, I guess, "contained," one of the Woodbury boys, Patrick, got really sick. Everyone wanted to put him with all the other sick people, but I have him in a room here quarantined by himself. We've already been exposed, so there really isn't much point to move him. He might only get sicker than he already is.
So I'm taking care of him and making sure all the other children keep their distance and try not to rub their eyes and noses, but that's almost like keeping them from breathing! Pretty sure all of us in here are gonna take turns getting sick. I think fresh air would do us all good, but no one wants the contamination going everywhere. I feel so cooped up."
As she lay aside her pencil, a soft rap to the door turned her attention away. She rushed up and slowly opened the door a crack, surprise written on her face when her sister, Maggie, showed up.
"Hey, Beth. Daddy... He... Well," Maggie stuttered a little as though searching for words.
"What is it? ... Well, spit it out," Beth said more anxiously than chiding.
Glancing up from the floor with tears in her eyes, Maggie replied, "He and Glenn are real ill. They spent too much time taking care of the sick."
Her voice was breaking as she spoke, and Beth opened the door wider and pulled her sister into a hug.
"Maggie, it'll be fine. Daddy's gone through worse, and Glenn is strong. I know if anyone, they'll be okay," she stated with a forced conviction. "We all have jobs to do. We're not allowed to get upset, remember?"
Nodding with a few leftover sniffs, Maggie held her little sister for a few more moments. She then leaned back and pet her sister's blonde hair out of her face.
"I don't know how ya stay so hopeful," she whispered admiringly. "You've lost three people close to you but still have the strength to hold up others. I wish I had that, too."
Widened eyes met her sister's fond gaze, and she shook her head disbelievingly.
"Maggie, you're stronger than me. You go out on these runs while I just stay here all sheltered. You're just stressed and worried; everyone gets like that," she advised her.
"It's more than that," Maggie replied confidently. "I've seen Carol and Rick, even Daryl, come by just for a little bit of your company. You're like a bright little flower in a prison."
Beth's brows lowered in confusion.
"What?" she added.
"Daryl's been around here? He hasn't said a word to me since I've been stuck in here," she relayed to her sister.
Frowning in thought, Maggie turned her head away but then back again with a wink as she laid the drawl on thick and said, "Maybe he thinks you're cute but don't got the guts to say it."
Heat rose to Beth's face, and she slapped her sister's shoulder in annoyance.
"That is not true!" she contested, stomping over back to her diary and closing it in agitation.
"Oooh... Somethin' in there about prince charming Daryl?" Maggie teased as she attempted to snag it from her.
As they fought over the little book, a familiar voice suddenly broke their little tiff up, saying, "What the hell are you two goin' on about?"
"N...nothin'!" Beth stammered while she reclaimed her precious cargo and seated herself on her bed. And of course Daryl Dixon would be present at a time like this.
"Oh, just talkin' about her current love interest," Maggie winked at her as she told him this, forcing Beth's stomach to convulse on itself as she shot her a death glare.
She seriously regretted giving her sister that little pep talk; she seemed to be feeling a bit too good.
"Huh..." Daryl huffed out nonchalantly, but his glance flashed briefly her way before he looked at Maggie again. That small exchanged glance had no discernible meaning to it, although it seemed like a thought went through his mind. It made Beth curious. "You comin'?"
"Yeah, I just needed to catch Beth up on what's goin' on," Maggie replied, showing little to no sign of her earlier breakdown.
Realizing what they were talking about, Beth stared longingly after them. A subtle pout stretched across her features, unbeknownst to herself, but Daryl gave her a weird look. Catching herself, Beth began to play with her hair and looked away as they left.
No other words were exchanged inside the room, and their leaving left Beth feeling a little empty.
If she let herself really admit how she felt, a part of her wished she were more useful to everyone; but another part of her felt insecure, as though she wouldn't be able to be of more help even if she tried. Instead of keeping her thoughts inside, she decided to write them to her diary. Reopening to her last-visited page, she began to write again.
"Daryl and Maggie visited just now. I was kinda happy to see them both, but Maggie had bad news—Daddy and Glenn have the flu now, too. I'm worried as well, but she needed a little pep talk to keep her running, so I reminded her what Daddy told us. You know, that we all have our own jobs to do.
Well, anyway, she was picking on me about Daryl liking me (which I don't really think is true—I'm certainly not his type), and then he showed up! I'm sure I was red as a beet, and I really hope he didn't suspect anything. He had a look on his face that I wanted to ask about, but it wasn't really the time.
They left to go on the run. I kinda wanted to go with, but I know I couldn't be much help. Honestly, it's probably because I'm afraid I won't be much help that I don't ask to train with anyone on how to use a gun or defend myself. And maybe it might be, too, what Daryl pointed out. I guess he's right—I was kinda acting and feeling like I'm already dead, like it's my defined destiny to get finished off before all this ends.
I wonder what Daryl thinks about that keeps him going? He lost his brother, but he still fights tooth and nail to stay alive. I really wish I knew that about him... It might inspire me on what I need to think about and do to get through this, too."
Right as her thoughts were about to get the better of her, Patrick's groans brought her attention back to reality. Going back to check on him, she felt his fever spike. He was perspiring excessively, and Beth began to feel a sense of panic. Lizzie stood at the doorway, peering inward, and Beth glanced back at her.
"Hey, Lizzie, can you do me a favor?" she asked, smiling in an attempt to not show her worry.
"Is he getting worse?" she asked blankly as though ignoring the question.
"Well, I think he needs some ice, but we don't really have that, so would you stay here and take charge for me while I go ask my dad what I need to do?" Beth asked quietly.
With barely a nod for a response, Beth felt a little uneasy leaving the others in her care, but it was an emergency. She had to go.
Once she made the other children aware of the situation, she took off down the hallway towards the section her father was staying in with Judith on her hip—she had her head covered to keep her from breathing in the contaminated air. Carol stopped her when she noticed her passing to ask what was wrong.
"Well, Patrick seems to be getting worse, so I was going to go see what Daddy would advise," she explained curtly as she looked around anxiously.
Carol placed her hands on Beth's shoulders to calm her momentarily and spoke, "Hey, come with me and we'll get him some water that I put in a cool portion of the prison. It's made some of the others feel better, so it might help him, too."
Relief flooded her as someone else took charge of the situation and led her through the prison.
"Here it is," Carol mumbled as she poured out some of the liquid contents into a cup. "Let's see if this helps, shall we?"
Nodding, Beth accepted the cup, passing her Judith, and rushed as quickly as she could without spilling to get back to the children's quarantine area. Her eyebrows knit together and her steps slowed while her heartbeat increased when she heard a few muffled noises. She set the cup down and ran to the room, swinging wide open the door to see all the children in a frenzy.
"What's going on?!" she asked in alarm.
"It's Lizzie!" a few said.
"She's locked the room!" another one stated.
"We heard her scream, and she called for help, but I can't open it," her little sister, Mika, sobbed.
"It's okay," Beth said, quickly shuffling the children to the hallway. "You stay out here with Carol, okay?"
She closed the door behind them to a confused Carol, and she went to her drawer and pulled out a knife that she had kept handy. She really hadn't expected to use it, but she was glad that she'd had the mind to bring it with her from her room.
Her heartbeat raced as she lunged toward the other room and called out, "Lizzie? Can you hear me?"
"It's okay," Lizzie stated calmly. "Patrick is fine now."
Loosening her grip a little on the knife, Beth tilted her head curiously. She wanted to ask what the girl meant, but she didn't feel like now was the time.
"Well, I brought him some water, so can I come in?" she inquired.
After several moments, she heard a hand on the doorknob, but it sounded like it dropped after.
"I don't think he needs it," the girl replied.
Turning away with a bite to her lip, she heard Carol call out, "Beth, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, Lizzie and I are just talking," she answered with a tone insinuating not to enter, turning her attention back to the locked door. "I just want to make sure he's okay. Can I see him?"
"You have to promise you won't do anything," the girl demanded after a lengthy pause.
"It's just for water," Beth replied right away before hearing a faint groan in the background.
She had an unsettled feeling in her stomach, but she rushed in as soon as the door was opened.
"You promised you wouldn't do anything!" Lizzie reminded, staring disapprovingly at the knife in Beth's hand.
Her heart fell to her stomach. There was no mistaking it—blood trailed from his eyes and from the edges of his mouth, and his eyes were the same soulless eyes that all the others shared. All the other walking dead. Nodding eventually in confirmation of the girl's words, she turned to her and smiled.
"It's okay. Looks like you tied him up to the bed—why?" she asked conversationally.
"Well, he got a little too excited," Lizzie grimaced, holding out her arm. "See?"
Horrified, Beth kept herself from covering her mouth or displaying her emotions on her face. By the teeth marks embedded in her flesh, she knew that it was only minutes, if that, before Lizzie would turn into one of them as well.
"It's okay!" Lizzie smiled. "I know he didn't mean to hurt me. We're friends. And soon, we'll be the same."
Her hands fell limply to her sides, shaking a little, as she took in the girl's words and true meaning. Tears sprung to her eyes and, slowly, she nodded and smiled, coming up and petting the girl's hair while she held the knife in her hand behind her back. Clearly, the girl had a mental breakdown with the reality of her situation and now suffered with the idea that the walkers were actually good people deep down. It was, actually, quite similar to how she and her family had kept the walkers of their dead family members and friends. Carl had told her about Lizzie's habit of naming walkers and her evident fascination with them, but she had never pictured such a result.
"Yeah, that's true," she said, wanting to comfort the girl in her last moments. "Oh, Lizzie, you and Patrick will get to hang out all the time very soon."
It took every ounce of strength she had to try to sound cheerful for the girl and not just crumble into a sobbing mess.
"I know! We'll have so much fun, and we'll hang out with everyone else," she exclaimed, seeming happy to have her thoughts validated. "I didn't think anyone else would understand."
"No, I understand, it's okay," she almost whispered, continuing to pet the girl's hair as she watched her spasm a little.
It seemed the effects were already kicking in. The girl gave a last smile before she lost consciousness.
Hands still shaking, Beth stared at the girl's limp form. She knew that only moments would pass before she would reanimate and attack her, and her heart felt like it would burst. The child who only that morning was there playing with her sister was now lying lifeless on the floor. Tears fell down from her open eyes as she knelt down, petting her hair one last time before she held her head gently with that same hand and came down with her knife in the other.
Her heart broke as soon as she felt the plunge into flesh. She ripped out her knife with a cry and shook for a moment before shucking off the girl's body. Patrick's inhuman eyes were fixated on her and the flesh at her feet, and he was biting at the air while yanking on his bindings. He was only suspended by a simple tie from some string that the children had to play with—upon realizing how weak the string was, Beth shot up. She was in more danger than she had realized, and she had allowed her emotions to get to her.
Shaking them off and allowing herself to take on a new identity, she stared back at the creature with hardened features and approached it carefully. Fear crept into her slightly as she analyzed her situation. Her knife was really short, the strings could come loose or break at any moment, and his animated body was erratically biting at her.
No. She would not allow fear to envelop her any longer.
Racing at the figure, she swept up from under and plunged the knife from under the chin up through the throat to where she estimated the brain to be. Thankfully, her knife reached its target, evidenced by his form falling limp.
Wiping the blood from her knife on his shirt, she stared at it. In its reflection, she saw a completely different person—strong, fierce, and no longer afraid.
At the sound of his body hitting the floor, Carol came crashing in to see what was going on. Upon viewing the scene, she turned back to the children and commanded them to stay out in the hall.
"What... what happened, Beth?" she asked, looking between the bodies and the girl admiring herself in the knife.
When she turned to face Carol, her image faltered a little, but her jaw clamped shut.
"Lizzie wanted to be like them. Patrick passed while we were gone—he had blood from his eyes and mouth. I think the sickness is more serious than we thought... He bit Lizzie," she explained, glancing at the girl's body.
A single tear fell down, but she swore inwardly that that would be the last.
"Dear diary, I did something I didn't think I would or could ever do today.
I put down two of our children.
I did.
They're gone. They had turned...
Part of me died inside, but I think it might have been that weak part of me. Although I'm still shaken, I feel stronger. I feel different. I'm not just the babysitter any more... I'm a defender, and a killer. I can be strong, too."