A/N: First off, thank you so much for the encouraging, positive reviews and all the views, follows, and favorites! Every single one is so appreciated and makes me want to write more for you all! So this chapter was really a struggle to write and I've kind of been dreading it since I came up with the idea for this story but now it's done, yay! Hopefully you all enjoy and don't worry, there's some Bethyl coming! I'm trying to make this a slow burn type story but I doubt I'll be able to hold out for too much longer. The fangirl inside me is really impatient…
Beth had alternated between screaming, crying, and falling into a heavy, exhausted sleep for what seemed like an eternity. Every moment of wakefulness was filled with crippling fear and ended with her reduced to hoarse cries of terror. She had screamed until her throat was raw, creating a new pain to distract her from the pounding, searing throb in her head. Her fingers were sore from clawing at her wooden prison, her nails torn and the tender skin around them bleeding. She tried to focus, take stock of her injuries, determine how much she could move, what hurt, try to figure out what had happened to her. She noticed that her right arm seemed to be wrapped in a cast and she couldn't really move it without feeling twinges of sharp pain. After a while she realized something that made her finally stop screaming, finally stop and think: no one was coming, no one was going to save her. Whoever had put her in here thought she was dead. She was going to have to save herself. She didn't remember how she had ended up here, who had placed her in this box, so she couldn't even be sure if anyone was even still around to hear her screams.
Accepting this new realization, she forced the panic down, taking slow deep breaths as she tried to reel in her emotions and think. Her first worry was air. She would run out sooner rather than later and then she would die for real. Thank God they hadn't put her in a real casket, which would have been airtight and suffocated her before she even had a chance to wake up. After air, she was most concerned with the pain in her head. Even if she somehow managed to muscle her way out of this box she wasn't sure she'd even be able to function. She didn't know why her head hurt, couldn't remember how she'd been injured. She only knew it was bad, bad enough for people to assume she was dead and bad enough to make her keep losing consciousness. For all she knew, too much movement would send her into shock. A mental iron will clamped down on her thoughts, the instinct to survive winning over her doubts. She had to try, even if it killed her.
Beth felt along to box again, trying to feel for any divots in the wood, any loose boards she could try to pry free. She moved her hands above her chest and tried to push, not feeling any give in the weight above her and earning a sharp pain in her wrist. The thought of the layers of earth piled above her made her breathing start to race again and she swallowed, pushing the panic back down. She didn't have time to panic, she needed to get out of there and quickly. She moved her hands to the left hand side of the box, figuring she might be able to lift the lid from the corner, praying that whoever had put her inside hadn't nailed it shut. She pushed as hard as she could and her head felt like it might burst from the throbbing pain. Her blood started pumping harder turning into a dull roar in her ears. Her wrist went from a sharp twinge to a full onslaught of fire and her vision went red before fading to black as she passed out.
When she came to, she felt nauseated and dizzy, her face felt hot and she could feel sweat clinging to her skin. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, waiting for the feelings to subside. She pushed against the lid of the coffin again, coming close to passing out before she felt the wood begin to move. Some dirt fell into the coffin with her and she inhaled the earthy smell. She almost cried with happiness, digging her fingers into the dirt outside her box, relishing in the soft texture. She wondered if she could push the lid up, maybe use her legs to help if she could bend them enough. She tested that theory, finding it hard to bend her stiff limbs, but she managed after a few tries, folding her legs up close to her chest and pressing her feet against the lid. The movement put more pressure on her head and made it harder to breathe so she took it slowly, pushing in small increments, taking breaks and trying to breathe evenly, until a trickle of dirt began to flow into the box. She scrambled into a hunched sitting position, almost bent in half, using her shoulders to replace her legs and distribute the weight across her shoulders and back. The pain had increased exponentially, her head splitting and her arm hurting to bad she could hardly breathe but she was sitting up. She was alive and she was getting out of this grave.
With a rush of determination she scooted slightly to the side of the box that had lifted up and started clawing through the dirt, using her back to keep the lid up. Beth forced herself through the opening, trying to wriggle her way free of the box and up into the dirt towards the sky, towards air, towards life. She took it slowly, dirt in her face, hair, and mouth, making it hard to breathe. After an eternity of digging she was able to push completely free of the box but the effort almost made her black out again. She stopped, fighting back the black spots and excruciating pain in her head. It was getting harder to find a breath, the dirt was beginning to suffocate her. She started to move again, pushing with her legs and digging with her arms, ignoring the pain that was amplified with every movement. She started to cry, harsh sobs ripping through her as she fought through the dirt, knowing that with one last black out she might not come back, might not make it to the surface. Her vision started to blur and she was slowing, her body giving up on her even while her mind screamed for her to keep fighting.
Suddenly the earth above her began to move, was being pushed aside. She glimpsed light, could feel air. She reached for it, felt a hand grab her bad arm roughly, pulling her up. She cried out, whoever it was was not being gentle but she didn't care. They pulled her free of the dirt and she gasped, exhilarated and reveling in the feeling of fresh air. Her savior didn't let go, was still pulling her, dragging her above the ground. She turned to look, to see who had saved her and was met with a sight that made her go numb in terror. Rotten teeth gnashed at her face and almost pupil-less eyes met her gaze. The thing had a gash above its temple, a hole that exposed black, rotten flesh. Somehow she knew, one bite, one scratch and she might as well crawl back into the ground. Somehow she knew she had to get to the thing's brain before it got to hers. She pushed the thing back with her bad arm as she struggled to get her legs under her and it fought her, trying to pull her closer and biting at her cast, it's teeth not able to penetrate the layers of plaster. She finally was able to stand and quickly got to her feet, stumbling away. The world spun and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Instinct took over and she stomped down on the thing's head as it gazed up for her, reaching with skeletal fingers. Her legs felt were like jello and her attempt lacked sufficient force to put the thing down. She stomped again and again until finally its arm collapsed lifelessly as the ground was soaked in thick sludge. Beth turned and threw up, dry heaving as her body reacted to the combination of the adrenaline, the gore, and her wounds.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her good arm and looked around, praying silently that there weren't any more of those things around her and giving thanks when she found herself alone. She felt unsteady on her feet as she took stock of her surroundings, hoping whoever had buried her was still around. She could sees a small, rundown house not far away and started to walk slowly towards it, her steps lurching and uncoordinated. The windows were boarded up but she noticed what looked like tire tracks and an empty tin can on the porch. Someone was here or at least they had been recently. She guessed that whoever had stayed here were probably the ones who had buried her and she prayed again that they hadn't left her behind. Although, she reasoned, that might be for the best. After all, she didn't know how she had been injured. Maybe the person who had buried her had also been the one to hurt her. She forced the thought away as she tried the front door, only to find it locked. She moved slowly along the house, footsteps growing more and more uneven, peering into windows, searching for signs of life within. It looked empty and her heart sank in sudden disappointment. She didn't realize how much she'd hoped to find someone inside, despite the potential danger it might put her in. She heard a snap of branches across the yard and turned to see another creature ambling into the open. It hadn't seen her yet so she moved around the side of the house, walking as quickly as she could manage without stumbling while using the house to help support her weight, feeling like her head would explode any second. She kept moving, one step at a time, hoping to find another entrance into the house. At least then she would have some shelter from those things, maybe find some food and and be able to rest. Finally she found a door at the back of the house and found it mercifully unlocked. She went inside, closing the door softly behind her and throwing the dead bolt. She stumbled deeper into the house, making enough noise to draw out anyone, or anything, that might be inside. Satisfied after a few moments of answering silence that she was alone, she collapsed onto a worn couch and promptly fell into an exhausted sleep.
A full day's drive away from the girl they had left behind, Rick and his family settled into another abandoned home, a two story antebellum that offered safe harbor for the exhausted group. Daryl felt like they had driven across the entire state of Georgia…twice… and he was grateful when Rick had finally told him to pull off the road to take refuge in the stately home. He had to admit, though, Rick hadn't steered them wrong. The house was a goldmine, fortified by the previous tenants, guarded by a stone wall that encircled the house, and housing a small supply of canned goods they had found tucked away in a corner of the cellar. After helping move their meager supplies inside, Daryl settled into one of the front living rooms, letting the others take the bedrooms upstairs. He would be fine on the floor, although the pink sofa pushed up against the far wall looked inviting. He threw himself down on it after deciding with Rick that he would take watch in a few hours, enjoying the ability to stretch out on the plush surface after hours sitting in the drivers seat. He tossed his arm over his eyes, recalling the last time he'd had a decent bed…the funeral home, with Beth. She had looked at him like he was out of his damn mind when he had reclined in the open coffin, relishing in the satiny comfort. He smiled softly at the memory before remembering the rough wooden boards that had surrounded her as he had lowered her into the ground. He sat up quickly, trying to force the memory away as the exhaustion of the day joined with the pain to form one monster of a heart ache. He tried to just concentrate on breathing for a moment before rising to his feet to go search for a distraction.
A flash of movement made him glance out the window. Resigned to the fact that he'd finally gone off the deep end or was at least exhausted to the point of hallucinating, he watched Beth Greene turn to smile at him over her shoulder as she stood among the trees at the far end of the property. Knowing it wasn't her, couldn't be her, he went out the front door to go to her anyway. He stepped out onto the grass, watching as she spun and beamed at him, her blue eyes bright as she watched him approach. "You ain't here," he said softly, as he continued to move closer. Her smile faded, turning into that look of quiet understanding he'd seen over and over, no judgment or pity just…Beth. She shook her head sadly in confirmation and he felt his legs go weak as she disappeared. He fell to his knees, hunching forward as he let go of everything he'd been holding in since they had left her behind.
