Chapter Four

Some time later, a gnarled, wrinkly hand gently clamps down on my shoulder, and I peer up into Dale's anxious eyes. His hand rubs my back gently, and he sighs. "Andrea and Amy told me what happened to Ed down at the quarry. Amy said you looked sick to your stomach, not that I blame you. Seeing all that blood and violence. That Shane's got quite a temper on him."

"It wasn't just that," I say so quietly he has to bend in closer to hear me. "I had a…a flashback. Of my mother." I say her name so softly, like she's a figment of my imagination and not the woman that gave birth to me. Dale waits patiently, eyes caring and understanding. He knows I need a second to collect myself, and he doesn't rush me. "I saw her, lying in a hospital bed, with her face beat to hell. The way she acted that night, it was like she had given up on ever having a better life. She just…accepted it! She didn't feel like she needed anything better in her life, and maybe she didn't, but I did!"

Dale sighs. "I'm sure your mother would have–"

"She did nothing! Not even when he turned his anger on me. She didn't care that he'd moved on to someone smaller and weaker than her. She even watched him do it once! He broke two of my ribs, sprained my wrist, blackened both of my eyes, and broke my nose, and she did nothing," I hiss, narrowing my eyes at Dale. "When I saw Shane beat the living shit out of Ed, I wanted to do the same thing. All I could think about was my step-dad, and how he never got what was coming to him. I wanted him to be punished as brutally as Ed was," I stop to take a quick, gasping breath that sounds more like a harsh sob. "And that one little thought terrified me. I don't wanna be like that."

Dale forces me to look at him. "Do you think that makes you a bad person?"

"Of course it does!" I say, shocked that he could possibly think otherwise. "I wanted to kill my step-dad and my mother, on multiple occasions. I wanted him dead because of what he did to her and to me, and I wanted her dead because she stood by and let it happen." I turn away from Dale so he won't see my tears, and so he won't know how weak I feel. "I got my wish."

"Alex, your mother didn't let anything happen to you."

"Yes, she did. She could have called the police; she could have taken me and run. My step-dad didn't work. He didn't contribute to our family in any way shape or form. All he did was sit around and drink, and spend her money, and smack her around when she got lippy. And he did the same to me, without provocation, and my mother let it happen."

"Alex–"

"Did you know that I called the police, numerous times? The first time I called the police, I was fifteen years old, and my step-dad had just slammed my mother's face down on our kitchen countertop, and she'd told me to go sit in my room and wait for her to tell me to come out. But I didn't. I called the cops, and when they got there, she lied to them. She lied to protect him, even knowing that he would come after me later. And he did. She got rid of the police, and he slapped me so hard it knocked me to the ground. She didn't even care. She didn't even flinch when he struck me. She just stood there and watched with this look on her face. You know what that look was, Dale?"

He shakes his head sadly.

"It was relief. Relief that for once in her miserable life, it wasn't her." I force myself to look Dale in the eyes, even though I'm crying and trembling from head to toe. That's what kind of woman my mother was. I know all about victims. I've been through the counseling, I've listened to others share their horrible stories of abuse. I know that it's never the victim's fault, and I know that the abuser is always to blame, but none of those women were my mother."

"Your mother was still a victim, regardless of what she did or didn't do," Dale says, as if he's surprised I don't think so myself.

"No, she wasn't. She was the woman that chose an abusive husband over her daughter. She was no victim. She was an abuser, just like my step-dad. When I told her that I would testify against him if given the chance, do you know what she did? She shipped me off to live with her younger brother. He was in the military and gone for months at a time. It was just me and my therapist, which she refused to pay for. My uncle had to do it. And do you know what I learned, listening to that shrink?" I ask, not caring that my voice is rising and I'm sounding on the verge of hysterics.

"What?"

"I learned that it wasn't my fault. That none of it was ever my fault, and it never would be." I take a deep, calming breath, and I wipe my hand across my face, rubbing away tears. "There was this little girl, in my group therapy session. Her mom's new boyfriend was abusing her, and do you know what her mother did? She killed the bastard for touching her little girl, for treating her daughter like she was a grown woman, and not a child. Her mother was willing to spend the rest of her life in prison to protect her child. And all my mother did was ship me away so she could go on living with her husband. Dale, do you know what my mother's last words to me were?"

He doesn't say anything at this point, but I honestly didn't expect him too. "Her last words were, 'Alex, why did you have to be so difficult?' That's what she asked me. She didn't tell me she loved me. She didn't tell me that she was sorry for sending me away. She blamed me, Dale. She blamed me for the way her life turned out. Emotional abuse, that's what it was. She abused me too, just in a different way. My therapist told me that some women just weren't meant to be mothers, and that was my mom. She didn't deserve children. She never wanted them, and she made sure I knew it. Even before my step-dad came around."

When I look up at Dale again, I can see the pity in his eyes. I'm not sure if he pities me for my suffering, or if he pities me for believing the way I do, but I don't care. My mother abandoned me for the love of an abusive man, a man that abused me as well, and I could never forgive her. Even if she was still alive.

What if she was here, right now? What if she told you that she'd always loved you, and that she sent you away so you wouldn't get hurt anymore? A small, traitorous voice in the back of my mind asks snidely. What if she convinced you that she still loved you, and had never stopped? Would you refuse to offer her forgiveness? Would you still hate her so vehemently? Is that what kind of person you are?

My inner voice is a snide bitch, and normally I find her input to be quite helpful, but not right now. Right now, all I can think about is pain, and fear, and sadness, and loneliness. Abandonment. Those are the only words that can accurately sum up my life. All the pain and fear that I suffered through made me a stronger person in the long run. Too bad it had the opposite effect on my mother.

You still love her. To this day, you still miss her. You still want to be close to her, my inner voice taunts. You would give anything just for one embrace. Just for one tender, loving moment with her! That thought surprises me for just a second, but it doesn't change the way I feel. Of course I would, I think bitterly to myself. She's my mother, and I still loved her, despite everything she did to me. if she was here right now, I would still tell her I love her, even if she didn't deserve to hear it…

"Do you think Carol is a bad mother for staying with Ed?" Dale asks quietly, slicing through my inner ramblings with one short sentence. He stands there, arms folded over his chest, giving me time to think about my answer.

"No, I don't think Carol is a bad mother. But you know something. Carol didn't send Sophia away so that she could live out her life with Ed. Carol believes that she doesn't have any other options but to stay with him. That's what Ed has forced her to believe after years of abuse. My mother had options, and she used them to get rid of me instead of her husband. So no, I don't think Carol is a bad mother. I don't blame her for the abuse she suffered, but I do blame my mother. Every choice Carol's ever made has been for her daughter; you can tell just by looking at her that she'd give anything for her daughter. My mother made her choice, and it wasn't me."

"Alex–"

"You can't possibly understand," I say harshly, turning away from him. I know I'll probably regret the way I've treated Dale later, but for right now, all I care about is getting rid of my anger, of venting and letting it all go, and part of me feels like Dale is trying to take my mother's side. It seems unfair, that even a complete stranger is taking her side over mine.

I don't know why you're so surprised. It's not like this is the first time. The police took her side over yours. So did Uncle Geoffrey. You've always been alone, Alex. And that will never change. Did you honestly expect someone you've known for less than forty-eight hours to understand who you are? Did you expect him to understand what she made you?

Dale reaches out for me, but I slap his hand away. "I'm going for a walk. I need time to clear my mind and think about some things."

He doesn't say anything as I walk away, and I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. All I know is that either way, his silence makes me want to cry.

XXXXX

My walk takes me back down to the quarry, which had been abandoned after Ed's savage beating at the hands of Shane. I knew that Carol was probably comforting him in their tent, trying to make it up to him in any way she could. She'd nurse him back to health–just like my mother had done on occasion after her husband had gotten into a bar fight–and Ed would surely punish her later.

After my walk, I head back to the camp to find people preparing for a fish fry of some kind. Andrea and Amy help clean a line of freshly caught fish, while Morales, Jacqui, and Shane help set up large rocks around the outside edge of the fire pits. Lori is sitting beside one of the fire pits, playing with Carl's short hair, and staring off at nothing in particular. She's still worried about Rick, and I can't say I blame her. They were expected back a little bit ago, and everyone knows what happened last time a group went into town.

I take a seat beside Lori, and she looks over at me. "Where did you disappear off to?"

"I needed some time to think."

"About Shane?" Lori asks, sounding surprised. "He got carried away, but Ed got what he deserved. No man should put his hands on a woman."

"I know. That's not what I needed to think about. It was something more…personal." I look over at her and Carl and smile. "Carl, your haircut looks nice. It makes you look older and wiser."

He smiles. "You think so?"

I nod. "Oh, yeah. I think Sophia likes it, too."

Like I knew he would, Carl blushes at the mention of Sophia. "Yeah, Sophia's cool," he mumbles, looking down at the fire pit. He looks up at Lori. "Can I go play with the other kids now? Please?"

She sighs. "Just make sure you stay in my line of sight, okay? No wandering off without an adult around." She watches him until he joins Sophia and Morales' two kids, and then she turns to me. "He's such a handful. He hates listening to anyone other than Shane, and I think he's trying to put himself in harm's way. If Rick were here, I think Carl would listen to him, but he's not, so…"

"Rick's doing what he thinks is right," I say. "I'm sure he wishes he could be here right now. But these weapons are important for the safety of the group, right? The more weapons and ammunition we have, the better we can defend ourselves. It might save someone's life."

She sighs. "I know you're talking sense, but I just can't make myself feel that way. Rick has duties here that he should be taking care of. Instead, he's out there trying to help everyone else. I just got him back, and the first thing he did was leave." She looks down at me again. "Will these guns even help us that much? Everyone who can shoot already has one. It's not like they need another. I don't know much about you. Can you shoot a gun?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Kind of. I took hunter's safety when I was a kid; my grandpa signed me up for it. I was one of the best shots in my class, but I haven't picked up a gun in years. With a bit of practice, I could probably pick it up real easy again. Can you shoot a gun? Being married to a cop, I'd think you've probably been around them a lot."

"I'm not bad," she admits, looking oddly shy about it, like she thinks I'll disapprove. "Rick and I used to go out to the gun range a few times a year. I never really thought I would have any use for gun training. Now I wish I'd done it a little more." She takes a metal pan of raw fish from someone I don't know, and she sets another pan over the fire. "Know how to cook fish?"

"Nope, but I can always learn."

I watch how Lori does it, and follow her actions closely. I can't afford to burn it; there isn't enough to waste any. The first batch is done in minutes, and Lori starts the second batch while I begin dividing up the cooked fish. Jacqui and Andrea are cooking over another fire, and Morales is dividing up what they've finished. A couple of people take their fish and head back to their tents to eat in silence. I've noticed since being here that it's like two groups of people living in one campsite.

On one side: Dale, Andrea, Amy, Jacqui, Shane, Lori, Carl, Sophia, Carol, Jim, Morales and his family, T-Dog, and Glenn. On the other side is Ed and Merle, along with a few others that don't really fit in anywhere. I'm not sure where Daryl fits, since Dale seems to see some good in him. But from what I've seen myself, it seems that Daryl belongs with his brother's side of the group.

As the fish cooks, the sun begins to go down, and it quickly gets dark. The fires give off the only light in the camp, and once the fish is done cooking, everyone gathers around our fire to eat. Without a word, Dale takes a spot beside me and hands me a plate of fish similar to his. I notice a couple of people with a bottle of beer in their hands, but I decide to stick with my water, even though I'm sure Shane wouldn't arrest me for having one beer at the end of the world. For some reason, the thought of having alcohol in my system isn't a pleasant one. In a dangerous world like this, I want my reflexes in top shape, and one beer could be the difference between life and death.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," Dale says quietly, lowering his voice so that I'm the only one to hear him. Everyone else is talking and laughing and having a good time, and he knows there's no chance of us being overheard. "I guess I'd like to believe that your mother tried her best, but I know that there are horrible mothers out there. It wasn't my place to question your upbringing. I'm sorry."

"Its okay, Dale. It's hard for people to understand why I don't care about her. They usually just assume that I'm being an overly dramatic bitch. It's one of those things where you had to be in our home to understand. I guess deep down everyone would like to think that a mother always puts her child first, but they don't. Some women just make horrible mothers."

He puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, surprising me. I've only known this man for two days, and he's actually making an attempt to reach out and console me. Dale has to be one of the most remarkable older men I've ever met; he makes an attempt to connect to people he doesn't even know. There should be more men like him in the world. If there were, maybe there wouldn't be as many women like my mother…

Dale and I lapse into a thoughtful silence. He and I eat our fish, and he studies the rest of the group. When Amy gets up from her seat beside her sister and Dale, Andrea looks up. "Where are you going?"

"I have to pee. Jeez, try to be discreet around here…" Shaking her head while the others chuckle softly, she heads off toward the RV. When someone asks Dale about the gold watch he's always playing with, he goes off on a small tangent about it, making everyone in the group smile again. It seems odd that something so small as a watch can make people happy, if only for a moment, but now, in this world, it seems so important. I listen to Dale's every single word with rapt attention, and I notice that the others do as well. Everyone in camp seems to respect Dale and his views on the world.

"Hey! There's no toilet paper!" Amy says, banging open the door of the RV.

I look up just in time to see a walker latch onto her arm, ripping a chunk of flesh clean away from the bone. Amy starts to scream, and for a second, there's no other sound in the camp. Then, as if a spell had been broken, everyone leaps to their feet and begins to scream along with Amy. Andrea runs to her sister despite the fact she doesn't have a weapon of any kind in her hands, but Jim holds her back and whips a baseball bat into the side of the walker's head, forcing it to let go of Amy's neck. She slumps to the ground, covered in blood and gasping for air, while Andrea kneels on the ground beside her, completely oblivious to the rest of the walkers in camp.

A walker comes out of the trees to my left, and I pull the hunting knife from its sheath on my hip. It stumbles slowly at me, and I slide to one side, slamming my foot into his shins. He falls to the ground and I put one foot on his back, before crouching down and stabbing my knife into the back of his head. The skin is soft after possibly months of decomposing, and the knife slides in like butter. The walker shudders once and goes still, marking him as the second person I've killed since the infection started.

I spent so long hiding in my apartment and only coming out for supplies that I wasn't prepared to survive on my own when those supplies ran out!

Carol runs toward the RV, holding Sophia close to her chest in an attempt to protect her in any way she can. Lori and Carl are hiding behind Shane in an attempt to stay alive, and Shane is firing off shots one by one. Each time he fires, a walker drops to the ground, but another seems to come from the trees to take the place of its fallen comrade. He's yelling for everyone to make their way to the RV so they can defend themselves, but I'm not sure if I can make it there in one piece.

Already there are other walkers coming toward me. Two of them shuffle forward, herding me away from the RV and the protection of the group. As the walkers come down on me, I back away slowly, knife raised in a defensive manner. I'm not sure I'll be able to handle two at once, so I look for anyone around that might be able to help me, and I come up empty-handed. I'm on my own with two walkers that will try to sink their teeth into my flesh and eat me alive.

One reaches out a deformed hand and I slap it away, shifting my knife into a more dangerous position. My foot hits a root sticking out of the ground and I go down hard on one elbow. The knife slides out of my hand and the wind is knocked from my lungs; I can't even scream as the walkers descend on me. Before they can sink their teeth into me, a shot goes off and one of the walkers drops to the ground, missing half of his face.

A man darts out of the trees behind me and stabs the remaining walker in the head with a huge hunting knife. Daryl looks down at me with a sneer. "Get up!" He doesn't wait for me to do as he says. He grips my shoulder so hard that it hurts, and he hauls me to my feet, shoving me in the general direction of the RV. When he's out of ammunition, Daryl hops in front of me, forcing me to huddle at his back. One arm wraps around my side, keeping me from getting in his way, and the other shifts the hunting knife into a better position.

He takes out three more walkers before depositing me in front of the RV. "Stay here," he says gruffly, before darting back into the crowd of walkers. After another minute or so, the shooting stops, and the entire camp goes deathly silent. Some of the men are busy checking walkers to make sure they're all down for good, and they give out a few death blows to ones that are still twitching.

As my heart stops racing and my breathing goes back to normal, one strangled cry goes up over and over again. "Amy!" Andrea screams her sister's name over and over again, capturing the attention of every single living person in camp. Lori and Carol both clutch their children for dear life, and Dale stares at Amy's bloody body with horror; he cared about them like daughters.

The only people not watching Amy are Shane and Rick. They're busy staring each other down, silently blaming one another for the massacre. I'm not sure who to blame, but I know that standing around won't fix anything. Turning away from Amy–I think I'll be sick if I have to see her lifeless eyes one more time–I head off into the destroyed camp to find Daryl. He's hanging back from Rick and Shane a ways, and I sidle up beside him. "Daryl?"

He glances down at me and snorts. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life a few minutes ago," I say quietly, trying not to disturb the mourning around the camp. Others are just now finding their deceased loved ones, and I hear Carol's anguished cry above all the rest. I know that Sophia is safe, so it must be Ed that didn't survive. It makes me feel bad to think it, but I know that nobody other than Carol and Sophia will miss him, and the world is probably a better place without Ed Peletier in it. "If you hadn't shown up when you did, I'd be dead right now." I reach out to touch his shoulder, and he jerks away from me.

"Don't touch me!" he snaps, narrowing his eyes at me. "You thanked me, now beat it!"

He turns and storms off, bumping into anyone too slow to get out of his way. I watch him go with a strange feeling in my gut. All I did was try to thank him for saving my life. He didn't have to be so mean about it…

A hand clamps down gently on my shoulder, and I wince. Even though I'm sure Daryl didn't mean to hurt me, he gripped my shoulder definitely hard enough to bruise. "Come on," Dale says. "We have a lot of work to do. We'll have to make sure none of our people come back, or we'll have another panic on our hands. Come help me keep watch."

With one last look at Daryl–who is busy ramming the sharp end of a pickaxe into a dead man's brain–I head after Dale, careful to keep an eye out for more walkers.