Hey guys!
So...this chapter...kinda sucks. But I had to completely rewrite it after my stupid iPad deleted all of it ): I tried, but the first one was so mucH better /:
I just wanted to give a MASSIVE thank you to my new BFF Lahey for making this story's cover! THANK YOU(:
10
Liars, Zombies, and Suicidals
About an hour or so later, the group stopped in someone's backyard, isolated from the city. Riley had stopped crying a long time ago, resorting instead to staring dejectedly out the window. Daryl jerked the truck to a jarring stop, frowning at the loud backfire.
"Some bucket of bolts you got here," Riley joked lightly, a small smirk playing across her lips.
"An' sum sad face ya got," he shot back, annoyed and trying to bother her. She had insulted his truck.
He swore he saw a blush appear on her cheeks before she looked away. "Yeah, uh, let's keep that to ourselves, okay?" Before Daryl could answer, she climbed out of the car, merging with the still-reeling group.
"So where do we go now?" Lori asked, her thin arms wrapped protectively around Carl's neck.
"There's always Fort Bennin'," Shane said, rifle slung carelessly over his shoulders. "It'll be safe there: food, water, protection."
"Do we have enough fuel to make it?" Riley questioned from where she was crouched next to her German shepherd. "Daryl's truck's almost empty."
He scowled. When did she see that? He hadn't even seen her look in his direction once during the drive. Damn sneaky agent.
"I'm runnin' low too," T-Dog added.
Everyone looked at Rick. It wasn't a secret that the power had shifted from Shane to the new police officer. "There are some empty gallons in the back of Carol's 'wagon; you two siphon the gas out of y'all's cars and put it in the RV."
Daryl frowned but listened to orders anyways. Now was not the time to pitch a fit over his car. He started to exchange the fuel as Riley strode up to the truck, easily vaulting into the back. "Thank God we're leaving this rust bucket behind," she said, smiling teasingly as she started untying the bungee cords around the bike.
"Had this truck since I was a kid," Daryl muttered.
Riley glanced at him for a second before he smile got even wider. "Some sad face ya got," she repeated his earlier words before calling, "Shane!" The burly officer came over and helped her roll the bike onto the ground.
"You gunna move into the RV with us?" Shane asked. Daryl couldn't help but look up with a curious glance; he wanted to know as well. She caught his gaze, and he quickly looked away, feigning nonchalance.
"I thought I could ride the bike," she responded with a confused tone, hands on hips.
Daryl snorted, screwing the lid closed on the red gas carrier. "Hell naw."
"But you've been driving all day, and you drove the whole time the other day! Don't you need a break?" she protested. She clearly wanted the motorcycle.
Daryl turned to hide his amused smirk. "Ain't no wuss," he called over his shoulder, taking the gas to Rick.
Riley sighed, frowning at Shane. "Guess I have to," she grumbled. He chuckled, patting her back and walking her towards the RV.
She moved to the back, sitting in the little area with T-Dog. Daryl drove by on his motorcycle, missing the glare and rude gesture Riley sent him.
"Ha! Beat that!" Riley exclaimed proudly, throwing her winning deck on the small table.
T-Dog stared at the hand with huge eyes. "That's impossible!"
"Nope, you just suck at cards. Hand it over." The brunette beamed, holding her hand out expectantly.
"You cheated," he grumbled, giving her the small bag of pretzels they'd bet on.
"Yeah, yeah," she responded, tearing open the bag and tossing a handful down her throat.
"Oh, geez," they heard Dale mutter from the driver's seat.
Riley crossed to the front, leaning against the back of Glenn's seat. Her green eyes took in the sight of the overturned and abandoned cars littering the highway.
Daryl turned around on his motorcycle, stalling next to the driver's window for a second.
"See a way through?" Dale questioned. Daryl just nodded his head, motioning for them to follow as he started driving through a path.
"Bona fide chatty cathy we got there," Riley joked, making Glenn crack a brief, uneasy smile. Riley held the bag in front of him, offering a pretzel, but he declined with a shake of the head.
Glenn pulled out a map, pouring over the details. Riley smirked in amusement, leaning forward and turning the map so that it was right-side-up. "There's a highway bypass about-"
"We can't spare the fuel," Dale responded with a shake of the head.
"And I couldn't imagine where we might find some more fuel," Riley muttered, staring at the cars.
The RV suddenly jolted to a stop, white smoke billowing up from the front of the car. Dale huffed, clambering down the steps and examining the engine.
"Damn radiator hose!" he complained. Cans of food stacked in the back of a nearby car caught Riley's attention, and she started rifling through the contents. She saw Daryl approach, and she shifted aside, making enough room for him to start looking through the cans as well.
"This isn't right," Lori suddenly spoke up, hands on hips. Riley resisted the urge to roll her eyes; now was not the time to be moral.
But the annoyance was gone as soon as Simmie solemnly agreed, "This is like a graveyard."
Riley looked over her shoulder at the woman who was glaring at her; Riley'd been caught red-handed. She sighed, sharing a glance with Daryl before turning back to the car. They needed these supplies; this was a necessary evil.
"Think we can find any weapons?" Riley asked, checking the expiration date on a can of tomatoes before tossing it back.
"Think we can find a whole lo' of anythin'," Daryl answered.
Riley walked a bit further down the highway, spotting an SUV with suitcases on top. She stood on her tip-toes, fingers grappling towards the bags. Daryl came up beside her, easily pulling down the luggage for her. She gave him a small nod of thanks, dropping to her knees and rifling through the contents.
"Nothing but clothes and toothbrushes. Typical," she muttered.
"Hey," Daryl said from the backseat of the car. He waved a small medicinal bottle of lunesta, pills rattling inside. "Reckon these'll help with yer 'somania?"
Riley smiled in amusement. "Insomnia," she corrected, easily catching the bottle he tossed at her. She threw them back. "I don't want them."
She pulled out a pair of jeans, standing and holding them against her waist. They looked a little big, but they were clean.
"You goin' shoppin'?" Daryl questioned from the backseat of the car, an eyebrow cocked.
Riley rolled her eyes. "I need to. My clothes now are more blood than actual fabric." She crouched down again, sorting the frilly, girly clothes from the practical ones. She ended up with a gray world series hoodie, a handful of dark v-neck t-shirts, and two jeans. "Find anything else?" she asked. What she really needed was more bullets; she was starting to run-
Her thoughts were suddenly cut off as someone's hand clamped over her mouth and an arm circled around her waist, tugging her into the car. She instantly started prying at the hand before Daryl's face drifted into view. His blue eyes glinted in obvious warning, and he had a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent.
Riley's brow furrowed in confusion as she nestled in the small space between the front seats and the back seats. He quietly eased the door shut before laying down on top of her, body flush against hers. Riley felt her blush, and she looked away, pressing her lips together in embarrassment.
The embarrassment quickly went away as moans filled the air. Riley's heart jumped into her throat, and her muscles tensed in fear. Her eyes widened at the sound of feet dragging across pavement. There were dozens of them.
A horrifying thought crossed her mind, and she grabbed Daryl's neck, pulling him even closer. Her lips brushed against his ear, making an involuntary chill run down his spine. "Simmie?" she breathed.
Daryl leaned back just a tiny bit, nodding. Riley let out a sigh of relief, but her relief morphed into fear as the first walker shuffled by. More followed, and Riley gritted her teeth. She was painfully aware of their rapid breathing, sounding deafening in the silent car. She could feel Daryl's heart ramming in time with hers in his chest. Riley squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that everyone else was hidden as well. She knew they could take a dozen, maybe two, but these numbers were quickly encroaching the hundred mark.
Riley didn't realize she was gripping the hell out of Daryl's arms until he shifted a hair. She let go, watching as he leaned up a little, peering out the window. He nodded, crawling up onto the seats and helping Riley sit up. He opened the car door and they quietly stepped out into the street.
Riley rapidly spun around, wide eyes scanning the road. She whirled on Daryl, stepping closer. "Where is she?" she whispered hastily, aware of the walkers' receding backs.
Daryl didn't have time to come up with an excuse. He didn't even have time to think about an excuse. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, her eyes blazing in anger. "You lied," she hissed.
A child's scream pierced the air, and Riley turned on her heel, instantly starting to sprint in that direction. Daryl grabbed her arm, yanking her back. "Rick's go' it," he said gruffly.
"Don't touch me," she growled, wrenching her arm away and heading back towards the yelp. Carol was sobbing next to the railing, and Lori was holding her.
"Simmie? Where's Simmie?" Riley demanded, grabbing Shane. He ignored her, moving over towards Carol. Riley huffed in frustration; yeah, they lost a child, but Riley cared more for Simmie than Sophia.
"I- I think she's in the RV," Dale said, gently touching her arm but keeping his gaze on Carol.
Riley nodded in thanks, patting his back as she ran into the RV. She froze in horror when the metallic stench of blood reached her nose. Blood was spattered everywhere, and Andrea was covered in it, crying on the ground next to a dead walker. "Simmie?"
Simmie appeared from the back room, shaking like a leaf. Her eyes were huge and rimmed red, and she had blood all over her. She stepped over Andrea, launching herself at Riley. Riley dragged her out of the Winnebago, sitting next to her on the bumper of the nearest car. She ran her hands over Simmie's arms, smearing the blood. "Are you okay?!" Simmie nodded faintly, her skin pale as a sheet. "Were you...?"
Simmie shook her head, swallowing the almost-visible lump in her throat. "No. Andrea saved me," she breathed, her voice shaking.
Riley exhaled sharply. "Simmie, I would've gotten you, but Daryl said-"
She raised her eyebrows. "And you trusted Daryl?"
Riley looked up, glaring furiously at the redneck. "Won't make that mistake again," she said, loud enough for him to hear her.
He huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing over to her. "Look, I couldn't have ya runnin' 'round in the middle o' that! Ya woulda killed all o' us!"
Riley's jaw clenched, but she looked away, a sign Daryl was quickly becoming familiar with that meant defeat. "Still a dick move," she grumbled unhappily.
Daryl, Shane, and Glenn went after Rick and Sophia, leaving the rest of the group to their own devices. Carol was in hysterics; it took everything Lori had to keep her on the road.
T-Dog suddenly stumbled into their circle, his arm ripped open and gushing blood. Riley instantly leaped into action, grabbing the teetering man. Dale quickly assisted her, and they struggled to lean him against the bumper. His head was lolling, and his eyelids were fluttering shut against his will.
"Dale, Andrea, get the body out of the RV," Riley ordered, taking control of the situation. "Simmie, get as many towels and shirts as you can find." They scrambled away, each working on their own jobs. Riley ripped the sleeve of T's shirt off, examining the bloody arm.
"God, what happened?" Riley asked, staring at the gruesome and deep cut. She could almost see the bone.
"C-C- The door-" T-Dog mumbled, his tongue refusing to work.
"Carl," Riley said, her voice softer than with the others. The boy's wide, shimmery eyes turned on the woman. "I need you to get as many water bottles as you can find."
"Sh-Shane found a truck full of water," Carl stammered.
Riley shot him a huge grin. "That's fantastic. Here," she tossed him her empty water bottle. "Fill yours and mine up." The boy nodded, turning and jogging down the road.
Dale and Andrea dumped the corpse over the rail before struggling to get T into the back part of the Winnebago. They laid him down on the small bed, the two hovering nervously over her.
"Andrea, go help Carl with the water. Dale go...keep watch," she ordered, just trying to get them off her back. They bustled out of the RV, and Simmie entered. Simmie handed Riley a plethora of shirts. Riley tossed one back at her. "Try and clean all the blood up."
Sweat rolled down her face, and Riley wiped the back of her hand across her head. She pulled her hair up in a thick bun at the nape of her neck, tightly tying one of the shirts above the cut as a tourniquet. The RV was stifling, and Riley was seriously worried about heat stroke. T-Dog already seemed a little delirious as it was.
Riley tugged off her tanktop, sitting only in her black sports bra. Carl and Andrea appeared at the door, handing Simmie a few water bottles. Simmie transferred them to Riley, who poured one on T's arm, cleansing the wound. She poured another on his head, trying to keep his temperature down.
Riley pressed a shirt on his wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. With a quiet moan, T's eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious.
Simmie gasped, leaning over Riley's shoulder. "Is he-?"
"No," Riley answered. "He just passed out. Give me some room, okay?"
Riley's frown deepened as the blood swiftly soaked through the shirt. She tossed it aside, using another one. Even with the tourniquet, the cut was gushing blood.
Riley huffed in frustration. She wasn't a medic; the extent of her knowledge was limited to slapping a bandaid on it and hoping for the best. Her eyes shifted out the window to where Shane and Glenn emerged from the woods. She beat on the window, drawing Shane's attention.
He entered the car, peering over her shoulder. "What happened?"
Riley shook her head. "I don't know. It's bleeding like a bitch, though." She looked up at him, her green eyes wide. He'd never seen Riley as anything other than a strong, independent individual, but now, she looked exhausted and overwhelmed. "I'm not a doctor, I don't know-"
"Hey, it's okay," Shane stated, putting a hand on her bare shoulder. "Why don't you come outside, get sum fresh air?"
She frowned at T-Dog for a second before nodding and following him out. The heat wasn't any better, but at least she didn't smell blood anymore.
"Why don't you keep lookin' for supplies?" Shane offered.
Riley nodded. "Sure." She saw Glenn nearby, and she walked over to him. His eyes widened, and he blushed a little at her bare stomach. "Wanna help me?"
"Uh- okay," he responded, grabbing a crate. They walked over to the nearest car, Riley easily vaulting up onto the front and pulling some of the suitcases down from the roof.
"Rick and Daryl are still looking?" she questioned.
Glenn nodded. "She started heading back towards the highway, but then she went the other way."
Riley frowned. "She's- what, eleven?- she can't have gotten far." She started handing him some clothes and toiletries.
"Twelve. You think they'll find her?" he asked nervously, brown eyes shining with worry.
Riley gave the kid a small smile. "I think the odds are on our side." It was true; she was young and slow, and she had Daryl looking for her. "Plus, Daryl's out there. He'll find her."
A knowing smile crept onto his face. "So... You and Daryl?" he questioned, careful to not look at her.
She scoffed, slapping the back of his head. "God, no! We're not even friends," she grumbled, even though she knew it wasn't true.
It wasn't some miraculous epiphany. It wasn't a sudden realization that hit her out of the blue; she just knew. The way they unconsciously started gravitating towards each other whenever they were in the same vicinity, the secret glances they shared with each other, the smiles they tried to hide. Somewhere from the huge tangle of arguments and fights and hate, a genuine friendship had unraveled, sneaking up on the both of them. They were friends. It was weird to even think about, considering how less than seventy-two hours ago they couldn't stand to be anywhere near each other.
"What?" he demanded. "It's not that much of a stretch."
"Uh, try huge. It's like saying you and Rick-"
His eyes grew huge, and his nose crinkled up in disgust. "Oh, God, just stop right there."
Riley grinned, a giggle slipping out of her mouth before she could help it. He smiled as well, even though he still looked grossed out.
"So, your shirt wasn't good enough for you?"
Riley glanced down at her toned stomach, shining with sweat. "It's too hot down here."
"Where are you from? You don't have an accent."
"Neither do you," the woman pointed out, opening the console. "Bingo," she muttered, dropping the gun in Glenn's crate. "I'm from Montana."
"What were you doing in Atlanta?" Glenn asked.
"Simmie lives in this god-forsaken place. I'd just gotten back from a mission, and I wanted to visit her."
"So, you really were in the CIA? Like, a spy?"
Riley nodded. "Yup," she answered, popping her lips on the 'p'.
"Man, I wish I had a cool job like that," Glenn mumbled grumpily. Riley opened the back of a small Sudan, searching through the contents.
"What'd you do?" Riley inquired.
"I was a pizza guy," he responded.
Riley grinned. "I'd like a pepperoni, please," she teased, making him roll his eyes and smile.
When the sun started to go down, bathing their surroundings in a pinkish-gold light, Glenn and Riley dropped off another full crate of supplies. This place was like a gold mine.
Riley heard the last bit of Shane and Andrea's conversation. "That sounds like a good idea," she said, supporting Shane. "I could help."
Shane's response was cut off by Glenn, who exclaimed, "They're back!"
Riley watched solemnly as Carol had a small meltdown. She didn't quite blame her; Riley would've been doing much worse if she was in the frantic mother's shoes.
What she didn't appreciate was Carol putting all the blame on Rick. She scowled, listening as the mother dumped all the fault on him. He had done the best he could with the amount of time he'd been given.
Lori lead Carol away, and Rick walked away, the burden visible on his shoulders. Riley caught Daryl's gaze, and he crossed over to her.
"What happened?" she demanded quietly, following him to a car. He sat down on the bumper, cleaning his arrows.
"Trail go' faint," he answered. He caught sight of her arms, covered to the elbows in blood. She saw where he was looking, and he didn't even have to ask.
"T got cut up pretty good." They both looked up, seeing the black man with a towel tied around his arm helping Shane.
"An' it go' on yer shirt?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked as he looked at her (rather toned) stomach. She had the faint outline of a four pack.
The corner of Riley's lips twitched up in a small smirk. "I hate the heat."
Daryl snorted. "Wuss."
"Ass," she retorted, smiling and shoving his shoulder with hers.
"Bitch," he shot with a smirk, pushing her shoulder back.
She smiled, catching Glenn's curious gaze from across their little group. He winked, and she scowled. "I liked it better when they were all afraid of me," she grumbled.
Daryl shook his head. It was quiet for a while. "Glenn and I found a lot of stuff. I found some darts; I was thinking maybe you could break off the ends and make arrows out of them."
He grunted. "Maybe."
They are quiet for a while later, until Riley sighed exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in the air. "Okay, I give up, what's it take to get a conversation out of Daryl Dixon?"
He smirked, looking down at his arrows. "Tell 'im what ya said ta Jenner," he answered.
Her eyes narrowed playfully, but she was still smiling. "Why do you care?"
He shrugged. "Jus' curious." He really wanted to know. What had Riley said that a gun to his head and several crying mothers and their kids couldn't get through to him?
Riley stood up, shaking her head. "Curiousity killed the cat," she quipped annoyingly. "I'm gonna talk to Rick."
She weaved through the cars, finally finding him sitting against a small Altima. She crouched down next to him.
"Rick, you're a damn good police officer," she started, knowing it would take some coaxing for him to listen to her. "And I can imagine that you've been in several fast, high-pressure situations. You know as well as I do that things get hectic- your mind doesn't work right. It doesn't have enough time to process everything at once. You don't think, you just DO. You did what you thought was right. You couldn't have known that Sophia would run off."
"But it's my fault," he responded, his voice low and raw with emotion. "I was with her; I shouldn't have left her."
"What would have happened if you stayed? Scenario A: you start fighting the first walker while the other one gets Sophia. Scenario B: you shoot both of them but bring the herd back down on our asses. Rick, either way someone would've died. Listen," she demanded. He looked up, his blue eyes taking on a haunted look. "Sophia is not dead. She's out there, somewhere, and you can't give up on her. Not yet."
"Carol blames me," he mumbled.
"She's going to," Riley promised with a nod. "For a while. Rick, she can either blame you or herself, and she's not strong enough to deal with the guilt that comes with blaming yourself. If you hadn't gone after her, she would've blamed you for not helping her. She would've blamed all of us." He turned his gaze downwards. "As far as I'm concerned, you're innocent, chief. I'm on your side, and so is Lori and Carl and Shane and Glenn. T'll hear you out, and if Daryl's not on your side it's just 'cause of the whole Merle thing. So that just leaves Andrea, who's too depressed to blame you; Dale, who's too nice to hate you; and Simmie, who's on the same side as I am. Rick, everyone's going to have a problem with at least one of your decisions. But you don't have to deal with it alone."
Rick didn't respond. Riley reached out and touched his arm before heading back towards the group.
"Hey," she heard Daryl's voice say as she walked past a car. She turned, only to have a shirt thrown at her face. She frowned, looking down at one of the shirts she'd found earlier at the SUV with Daryl before turning her gaze on him.
"It ain't gunn' bite ya," he grumbled. "It'll be cold soon."
Riley was inwardly confused; he'd gone all the way back to that truck to bring her a shirt without her even asking. Daryl had actually been...nice? Who are you, and what have you done with my belligerent redneck? She slid the shirt over her head. It was a little too big; the neckline dipped down to reveal a portion of her sports bra.
"How'd yer talk with Rick go?"
She sighed, propping one of her feet up on the bumper next to him. She leaned forward, touching her toes with her hand and feeling her muscles stretch. "You can imagine. He thinks it's his fault."
"Ya don' think so?" he questioned, glancing up at her with his blue eyes.
"No; he did what he thought was best. He tried, and that's enough for me." She switched legs. "I am kinda surprised you didn't stick an arrow through his brain when he had his back turned," she said, only half-joking.
He scowled. "I shoulda. He deserved one," he grumbled.
"Oh, don't pout," she teased, shooting him a wicked grin before turning around and walking towards T-Dog. "Hey, man, how ya doing?"
T shrugged, looking down at his cut. "Hurts like a bitch, but I'll live."
"Tomorrow after we look for Sophia, I'll see if I can't find any Advil."
He nodded. "That'd be great. Thanks for takin' care of me while I was out."
She smiled, patting his back. "Anytime, T. I owed you for cheating at cards." She turned, grinning at his outraged, "What?!" before nearly running smack into somebody.
Riley jumped in surprise before realizing it was just Daryl. She exhaled in relief, glaring at his amused smirk. She slapped his chest, exclaiming, "God- Stop that!"
"Stop wha'?" he questioned, fighting the urge to chuckle at the animated woman.
"Moving around like a goddamn ninja," she muttered, walking over and leaning against the side of the truck where Simmie and Andrea were making a pallet in the back. "How are you two doing?" she asked, more out of courtesy than actual concern. She didn't really care so much about Andrea's feelInge.
Simmie gave the older woman a tiny smile. "We're okay."
"Have you eaten dinner yet? We found a good amount of food; there's enough for both of you to share a can."
Simmie shared a glance with Andrea before Andrea said, "We're not that hungry."
Riley raised an eyebrow. "Neither of you? Simmie, you haven't eaten since the CDC."
"I'm fine."
Something was wrong. Simmie was being very careful not to look at Riley for more than a second when they talked, and Simmie was trying to look busy.
"Ya should eat," Daryl spoke up, slightly surprising Riley. She was too concerned about her friend to marvel at the fact that Daryl was helping her. "Ya're gonna need yer strength to go lookin' fer Sophia tomorrow."
"Come on, Simmie, just-"
"She said she's fine, okay?" Andrea snapped. "Just leave her alone."
Riley's jaw clenched, and she felt a fist forming. Who the hell did this bitch think she was? Had she known Simmie since she was six? Had she kept Simmie alive even when she didn't want to live? "Excuse me?" Riley uttered, her voice shaking in anger.
"You already forced her to live; you gonna force her to eat too?"
Riley grabbed onto the side of the truck, going to vault herself over and whale on this girl. But Daryl grabbed her around the waist, jerking her down. She was too furious to think about anything other than how satisfying it would feel to sink her fist into Andrea's face. Daryl shoved her away, leading her away from the two surprised women.
"Oh my God," Riley exclaimed, tugging on the hair at her temples as she started furiously pacing. "I will kill her. I'm going to kill her!" she promised to Daryl, who was watching her warily.
"I don' think it's a good idea fer Simmie ta be hangin' 'round Blondie." When Riley sent him a confused glance, he elaborated, "She tried to stay too, but Dale wouldn't let her."
Her eyes flashed, and she spun on her heel, starting to stalk back to the truck. "Oh HELL no," she growled. She'd be damned if she let Andrea put suicidal thoughts into Simmie's mind.
Daryl jumped in front of her, blocking her route. "Ya cain't kill her; we need as many hands as we can ta find Sophia." He knew better than to bother with the 'moral reasons'; she needed facts to make sense.
Riley hissed in frustration, sinking her fist into the nearest car. "I could kill someone right now."
"Yeah, yeah. Jus' git sum sleep." He tossed her a bottle, and she reflexively caught it, looking down at the lunesta pills.
"I don't want this," she responded, throwing it back.
"Ya wanna sleep?"
"No," she retorted with a slight sneer, surprising him. "Those make me drowsy, and I'm not gonna use them. 'Night Daryl." She turned around, careful to take the long way to the RV so she could avoid Andrea and Simmie's car. She easily climbed the ladder, plopping down next to Dale in his lawn chair.
Daryl scoffed quietly, shaking his head. That girl was a real piece of work.
...YEP. A really long chapter pretty much full of crap. /:
*coughcough* FILLER CHAPTER *coughcough*
On the other hand, WHOA. Daryl and Riley don't hate each other's guts anymore! YIPPEE. I hope I didn't make that transition from enemies to almost-friends too fast...
Uh-oh... Andrea and Simmie are hanging out... Makes you wonder what all depressing stuff Andrea is saying to her. Haha and Riley doesn't really like Andrea too much XD
Leyshla Gisel: It really is one of the worst ways to die... Having your body blown to bits... Yuck! And I hope this chapter didn't disappoint you TOO much! Thank you for reviewing(:
Lahey: Hahaha XD And you mean boo Simmie lived or boo Andrea lived? Haha I'm confuzzled! But I agree. The Gov is just too creepy .. Dx Haha thanks for reviewing(:
