Leyshla Gisel: thank you! :-)

Guccileopard: I want you to suffer from my cliffhangers :-)

Doctorkaitlyn: i am pretty excited to show you guys what happens next :-D

Chlexfan10: you are awesome, thanks for the super kickass reviews :-D

Padme4000: I'm glad you enjoy my sappy shit (-:

On with the story!

"Shit, shit, shit." I muttered and stared back at Rick, "What do we do?"

He gripped his gun and turned the corner to go to the front of the house, "It's probably one or two, Isabelle, I can handle it."

I leaned forward quickly to grab his shoulder, "I'm sure you can, but I'll go with you." I turned around to see if I could find anything do use instead of shooting, I really didn't want the gunshots to alert any other walkers in the area.

"Isabelle, are you sure?" He asked and I nodded, "I'll be fine, pinky swear."

I told him to wait a second, since I found a small piece of wood sticking out of the near the bottom of the house. Kicking it several times, a thin plank broke off - it'd be good enough for a couple of hits, at least.

I went in front of him, ducked, and motioned him to follow behind. I wanted to stay in front so I could take out any walkers with the wooden plank, and as a last resort, Rick could use his gun.

Staying low, I reached for the handle, cursing under my breath as my hand kept shaking so much that I could barely get a good grip; keep your nerves together, Isabelle!

Turning the handle slowly, I tried my best to keep quiet as the vile smell of decomposing flesh hit my nostrils. As soon as I stepped further inside, I paused to try to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, which only really helped a little.

We reached the kitchen, with me still in front, when I noticed a hammer on the counter. Perfect. I know that'll last longer than this flimsy plank. I snatched it from the counter and checked the rest of the kitchen - a dead end.

Rick and I both turned our heads when we heard some shuffling upstairs, and with a death grip on my hammer, we both began to move upstairs.

"Let me take the hammer, you don't have to go up there," Rick whispered.

"No, I can take care of this. There shouldn't be that many…" I trailed off when I could make hear the hiss of a walker down the hallway.

I charged down the hallway, better to get this done and over with, and jammed the claw of the hammer into the walker's head. I was grateful that it didn't put up much of a fight, since the it sunk into its skull, causing it to drop to the floor.

But I wanted to make sure it'd stay dead.

I turned the hammer, using the blunt edge and smashed it into the skull multiple times. I wanted to make sure it'd stay down and I wanted to put it out of its misery. I didn't even care at the mess I was making, wasn't my house anyways.

I had to stop though, as soon as I could hear Rick rushing over to tell me it was dead, that I didn't need to keep bludgeoning it.

He was right, I didn't have to keep going, it was going to stay down. But I needed to vent. I needed to hurt something -to kill something.

I stopped and dropped my hammer to the side of the body. I could only hear the low whistle of the night and Rick's faint breaths, we were actually alone now. It was only one walker. Only. Sheesh, I sound disappointed.

I picked up my hammer and stood back up with Rick, I was going to need to wash this shirt. It was soaked in the walker's coagulated blood, brain matter, and some of its skull fragments - not exactly the prettiest sight.

There must have been a window cracked open, since the door to a bedroom kept swinging due to a slight breeze.

I cautiously stepped in the room, with my grip still tight on my hammer.

The window wasn't open.

It was broken.

Someone was trying to break out. In fact, more than one person was locked in the room. That's why the parents killed themselves, they couldn't live with the guilt that their kids were infected and they couldn't do anything about it.

Only problem was, there was only one walker.

Memories of being locked in a room with Jane came flooding back and my head was feeling dizzy. I lost my step, my knees buckled and the wall behind me broke my fall. I could hear Rick calling my name, but it sounded muffled, I only sat on the ground with my knees to my chest.

I didn't want to react like this, I really didn't, because I know I was scaring Rick. Thing is, I couldn't help it. I wasn't in control anymore.

I could feel Rick kneeling in front of me, hearing him repeating my name over and over again.

"Isabelle!" He called again, with one hand on my shoulder, "Isabelle, are you okay?"

"Get me out of here." I pleaded.

And with that, he hooked his arm into mine and brought me up. With his arm slung around my waist and my arm hooked around his shoulders for support, he led me back to the guest house and brought me back inside.

"Thanks." I mumbled quickly before running off to the bathroom. Before he could follow or say anything, I slammed the door and locked it. I can deal with him later.

I held my stomach, worried that I was going to throw up again from this unsettling, queasy feeling I had. I waited for several moments, but nothing happened. Well, that's a start, I suppose.

Didn't mean I felt any better though, I was getting a headache so I moved to the sink to splash some cold water on my face. I took in the cold feeling, enjoying how it contrasted with my sweaty skin.

I might as well take a quick glance in my mirror since I'm in here, even though last time I checked was yesterday. Again, I didn't look too different, I expected a little more darkness under my eyes, but they weren't as sunken as they were before - a sign that my sleep habits were improving somewhat. Same with the cheeks, I remember the first week (from what I could remember), I was a little gaunt.

I was pretty annoyed with my hair though, I used to have a shorter Mia Farrow-esque cut, and now it was starting to grow out. It wasn't too much of a change, a little messier and shaggier and all I'd have to do is trim the back so it wouldn't turn into some sort of mullet, but it was still manageable. I feel like I really lucked out by keeping short hair though. I really need to fix my brows though.

I turned to my side, wondering if my body had changed much. Lost a couple pounds, I was glad I wasn't getting the ribs-sticking-out look yet; I was still mostly in shape. Wouldn't hurt to fill out a little more, but that'll be highly unlikely.

I opened the door and was met face to face with Rick, with one arm extended to keep me in there.

His eyes said everything; he was tired of being kept in the dark – which was completely understandable. This was the second time he experienced a panic attack from me, so it makes sense for me to tell him at least something.

"Let me, uhh…" I tripped over my words, unsure of what to say, "I need to change my shirt." I gestured for him to get out of my way and walked over to my bag to grab a clean shirt. "I'll talk to you outside."

Rick left the house without a word, something I sincerely appreciated about him, the fact that he'll give space when asked to. He's really done more than enough for me, and explaining what the fuck is wrong with me is the least I could do.

I smoothed out my shirt before taking a seat next to him on the bench. "Hey." I said quietly.

"Look, Isabelle," he started, "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to share. I just need to know if you're okay."

"I-I am. I am okay. A little sick, but that's from the dehydration. Not from what happened back there, I swear."

He was about to speak, but I cut in quickly, "I know that's all you're fine with, but I want you to know what's wrong, you deserve to know since we'll be sticking together for some time. For a while, at least."

He nodded for me to continue, so I started at the beginning. I told him why I was in Georgia and most of what I could remember about being at Jane's house: her getting attacked by some crazy man, me being locked in a room with her and leaving her behind when the house was overrun. I made sure to explain that it wasn't necessarily anyone's fault for my panic attack, it was that the scene brought up a repressed memory.

He could hear the guilt in my voice when I explained leaving her house, leaving Jane behind and how badly it was eating me away inside. I know he didn't want to interrupt me, but he did anyways to reassure me that it wasn't my fault and she wasn't Jane anymore. If he'd been someone else, I would've punched them in the jaw; but coming from him just felt right.

As I was telling my story, I don't know who was scooting closer to who, but when I got to the point where I was attacked at the gas station I was already in his arms somehow. Not that I was complaining.

I explained how the attack caused some blank parts in my memory, and found myself shaking when I brought up the frustrations of trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I couldn't believe this was all spilling out of me though, again if it were any other person I would've told them to fuck off, but this was…easy, relieving.

Neither of us said a word when I was done. I was out of energy, I just didn't want to talk anymore. Wasn't in the mood to move either. I was completely fine being curled up next to him with my arms around me, and I certainly felt a lot better.

I apologize for two things:

1. My grammar, I've been getting a complaint or two about this, sorry guys. I really try my best since English isn't my first language.

2. The shortness of the chapter, I haven't been feeling up to par guys, but if it makes you guys feel better I may be able to get another chapter out before/maybe the day of Christmas. In the meantime, you guys should definitely check out a new story, it's a collaboration between me and another author, guccileopard. The link is in my profile, so check it out sometime!

Also, thank you to all those who added to alerts, you guys should leave some feedback sometime, don't be shy! I won't bite...I think.

Don't forget to leave some feedback guys! Also, enjoy your holidays!