III. Fear

As her hand lingered on the door, Beth couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't thought things through well enough. Despite hating being perceived as naïve and sheltered, she couldn't deny that it wasn't too far from the truth. Did she really belong at a place like this, at a time like this, on a Friday night no less?

She surveyed the parking lot around the bar, noticing far more cars than she had earlier in the day when Hershel had been here. She wasn't particularly surprised, but it still didn't stop the fear from creeping in.

But she had driven so far, braving through the complete downpour, and she wasn't about to give in so easily.

As she stepped inside, barely inching past the doorway, she marveled at her surroundings. It wasn't nearly as crowded as all the movies had convinced her it would be. And the music didn't threaten to burst her eardrums, either. You could actually hear your own thoughts, which at the moment, Beth wasn't so sure was a good thing.

She glanced over at the bar, noticing a few people spaced throughout sipping on their drinks. She also spied who she assumed to be the bartender, his back to her while making some foreign concoction. She couldn't even see his face, but his tattered clothing and disheveled hair filled her with hesitance. It looked like he had just rolled out of bed before heading into work. And while originally her plan was to approach and reason with the person responsible for supplying her father with alcohol, she could somehow sense that this man wasn't exactly friendly.

And as he turned around, she was proven correct, his dark eyes glaring at her, "Out."

She gaped at him, wondering how someone could dislike her before she even opened her mouth. Was she not following the appropriate dress code? Had she angered him by dampening the floor with her soaking clothes?

Or worse, had he caught her leering at him? "Pardon me?"

"Get out," he grunted. "Don't even to see your ID to know you ain't old enough to be in here."

The few people seated at the bar turned to look at her and she flushed in embarrassment. "Oh, no, I'm not here for alcohol. I'm here to-"

"Don't care," he interrupted, plopping the drinks down on the counter a little too roughly. She could have sworn she heard the glasses crack. Maybe she was mistaken; perhaps it was her heart, instead. "If you're lost, go to the Starbucks across the street for directions."

Despite the fear that threatened to weigh her down, she took a step closer, carefully approaching the snake and his venomous words, "Please, I was just wondering if I could talk-"

"I said no." When Beth made no leave to exit, he threatened, "Do I need to remove you myself?"

"Please, you don't understand, I need-"

Before Beth could even finish her plea, an older man poked his head from around the corner. She wanted to groan, realizing that his appearance looked just as unwelcoming as the bartender. If anything, his greasy hair and tobacco-tinged teeth him even more unapproachable. He slung his arm around the darker haired man, "Now Daryl, what seems to be the problem? That ain't no way to talk to a paying customer."

"Ain't no customer," he grumbled. "Look at her, man. Looks to still be in high school."

Though she thought it to be impossible, her face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, "I'm not! I graduated last year, I swear."

The older man inspected her for a few moments, skeptical on her word. "You got an ID?" Hastily, she scored through her purse, yanking out her wallet and sliding it over to him. He grunted in thought, "Well, you told the truth. Says you're nineteen, though, so you still ain't old enough to drink."

"I'm not trying to drink," she groaned in exasperation. "I was trying to talk to someone about my dad, and if someone had actually let me explain myself, I could have established that ten minutes ago." She glared the most menacing look she could muster at whom she now identified as Daryl. She didn't care that it seemed to have absolutely no effect on him; she just took pride in the fact that she was giving him the same rude treatment he had given her.

"Pay no attention to Daryl, he ain't exactly a people person. I swear if he weren't my brother, I'd have fired him years ago," he guffawed, his smile revealing a gold tooth glinting against the harsh overhead light. Weren't bars supposed to be dark and seedy? Perhaps it was just Beth's discomfort that made it feel as if a spotlight had been focused on her. "Now what were you saying about your daddy?"

"I…" And suddenly, the words died in her throat. The entire drive, Beth had mentally practiced every single word she would say. She envisioned herself standing tall and confident as she persuaded the bar personnel to reason with her. Instead, her shoulders hunched forward and she tugged at her hair in nervousness, "Well I… um, did you see an older man come in earlier today? He has white hair and a beard, wearing slacks and a button-up?"

The older guy hummed in thought for a moment, before finally nodding in recognition, "Yeah, I think so. Came in around three or four? Fella sure can drink," he laughed, oblivious to the flash of pain in Beth's eyes. "Stayed for a couple hours and left before six, I think."

"Yeah, because that's what time his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings are over," she bit, the bitterness escaping her before she even had a chance to contemplate her words.

She was slightly mollified that he at least had enough decency to duck his head in shame, though quickly recovering a moment later. "That still don't tell me exactly what brings you in here this time of night."

Beth found herself in a foreign position. She had lost count of how many times in a day she mentally begged for help, but she was never one to ask for it, fearful of appearing bothersome. Besides, she didn't want to overextend her requests- one day she might really need the help, only to find no one there because she had already exhausted her resources.

But today, she needed help.

And despite the absolute whirlpool of emotions twisting in her gut, she was finally going to overcome her fear.

So that maybe Hershel could then overcome his.

She steeled herself, forcing her shoulders back as she stared directly into the eyes of the men in front of her. "I came to make a deal with you."

I just wanted to say thanks to everyone reading for giving my story a chance. As someone relatively new to this, your support is greatly appreciated. If have any suggestions or constructive criticism, feel free to share; I'm not sensitive in the slightest. Thank you again!

- Ryolie