*YAY! New chapter and it didn't take 2 months! My summer has officially started so I'm hoping to be more consistent with updates. Big things this chapter and new things to come for Aria. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and just a reminder that if you are artistic in any way and would like to sketch or draw a picture of Aria please PM me! Thanks!


I rub my eyes, the burn of a sleepless night still there. Hadley's back is to me, her breaths raspy as she sleeps soundly. Sunlight lights up A block, a morale boost for those who are quickly recovering from the virus. Bob gave out the medications last night and most people who were on the brink of death are coherent and breathing on their own again. The color has returned to Hadley's skin, her eyes no longer rimmed in red.

I drag my fingers through my hair, my knees bouncing up and down. She's been in a comatose state ever since last night, only responding to commands that she deems necessary, like drinking water and lying down. A nod or shake of her head are her only means of communication so far. I sigh, thinking of the list of silent questions she's berating herself with. Each one is a 'what if' with an answer that isn't possible. Kyler died trying to protect her. She can't change that, but she can blame herself. Because in grief that's what you do, you make everything your fault. But Hadley had no control. Fate picked Kyler and in the process stole another part of this girl who has already lost one love.

My eyes slip shut, my mind craving the rest it so desperately needs after yesterday. The hits just keep coming with no signs of stopping. We stopped the virus, but how many of us died? Our numbers are decimated. Even with those recovering we still lost a quarter of our group.

You've been through worse situations.

Knuckles rap on the cell door, snapping me awake. Daryl stands in the doorway, lips pulled into a straight line as he sticks one hand in his pocket, blue eyes flickering from me to Hadley's sleeping form. "How is she?" he questions, voice soft and rough with his drawl.

I rest my chin in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees while Hadley gives a half-hearted cough in her sleep.

"Quiet, hasn't said a word yet." The hunter nods, biting his thumb as his gaze turns back on me,

"And you?"

I shrug, "I'll be fine."

It's the truth. Hadley will be fine too, she just has to glue herself back together with some help. The process is messy and painful, but if she wants to survive this world it's necessary.

"Hershel says Glenn was doing better."

"Yeah, I think he's talking now." At least he made it through. I don't know how Maggie would be if he hadn't. I can only imagine she would be a lot like Hadley. Daryl doesn't say anything for a while, the silence filled with uncertainty before I finally break it, "Are you all right?" A nod and then more silence. I let out a heavy huff before standing from my milk crate in the corner, "No, you're not."

He straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest, "Do you know where Carol is?" My shoulders slump as Rick's words play in my mind.

"You need to talk to Rick." Daryl's body goes tense, muscles clenching tight in frustration,

"You're the second person to tell me that. What the hell is going on, Aria?" Those fierce ocean eyes hold my exhausted green ones.

"Daryl-" I start, but he only cuts me off, closing the gap between us.

"Where is she, girl?"

The words sit on my tongue, ready to meet the air, but I let them die, instead walking past Daryl to the cell door. "Let's go." Anxiety makes him tense, shoulders bunched tight as he follows me to where the ex-sheriff is.

Rick's with Carl in the courtyard, a bright smile plastered on his face as he pats his son on the back. He catches sight of us and that smile drops. Wordlessly, he leads us into C block and upstairs where we are away from the others. Rick doesn't want everyone to know. He wants to break it to the others slowly to control any outburst of emotions that would follow. I stand off to the side, leaning heavily on the wall as Rick delivers the news. Daryl's gaze cuts to mine immediately, disbelief there until he sees the truth in my gaze. The pacing starts, Rick's explanation only making Daryl more pissed. His fists clench at his sides as his friend finishes.

"Man, you couldn't have waited until we got back?"

"Until Tyreese got back?"

I meet his gaze as his next words tumble from his mouth, "I could have handled that."

Rick glances at me from the corner of his eye, letting a small huff fall from him. He knows he was wrong to kick her out. We protect our own. Carol is family and so is Tyreese. We could have worked it out, one way or another.

"She killed two of our own. She couldn't be here," Rick snaps, standing by his decision. "She's gonna be alright. She has a car, supplies, weapons. She's a survivor."

None of that matters if she's alone.

"Stop saying that like you don't believe it," he snarls, getting in Rick's face. The two watch each other for a moment before Daryl shakes his head, pacing the walkway once more.

"She did it. She said it was for us. That's how it was in her head. She wasn't sorry."

"Man, that's her, but that ain't her." But it is. Carol killed Karen and David. She did it trying to protect us. People will do anything when they are desperate to save the ones they love. "What are we supposed to do about those two little girls?"

Lizzy and Mika lost their father in the attack in D. Carol was going to watch over them, but now that she's gone the girls don't have anyone else.

Fuck.

Every move we make has a consequence. It's like the damn butterfly effect, only we're not trying to change the past we're just trying to live.

"I told her we would look after them," Rick explains. Daryl stops at the railing, hanging his head as he lets it all sink in. "I haven't told Tyreese yet. I don't know how he's gonna take it." He's asking for help because in the end no matter what happens between the two, Daryl is still his right hand man. They are friends and they've got each other's back. The hunter slowly raises his head, sucking in a deep breath before he rights himself. I push off the wall as I meet his gaze. We may not agree with Rick's decision, but family is family and it's our job to break the news.

"Let's go find out," Daryl mumbles, walking around his friend and down the stairs. The ex-sheriff's shoulders hunch forward, but I don't make any move to comfort him. It is what it is. There's no changing what is done. All we can do is move on and accept the situation for what it is. I just hope Rick was right to be worried about Tyreese.

The three of us move through the tombs, Daryl and I behind Rick. The lights above are lit, meaning someone's down here. We pass the two cells where Karen and David were, the trails of blood washed away, but a faint stain still remains.

"Tyreese, are you down here?"

"Rick, is that you?" A sense of urgency is in the man's voice, his heavy footfalls dragging him from out of the dark. "You guys got to see this."

"Can it wait? There's something we need to talk about," Rick tries, ready to get the news off his chest and be done with all this.

"It can wait. Come on," he ushers.

My stomach twists at those words, the three of us sharing a quick look before we follow Tyreese. I click my flashlight on, my free hand resting on the knife at my hip. The halls twist and turn until Tyreese comes to a stop, pointing his flashlight towards the door to where the bodies were burned.

"Look." The guys move in first, blocking my view.

"The hell?" Daryl questions and then crouches down. A rabbit is pinned to a wooden board, its innards exposed like some science dissection.

What the fuck?

"I was just looking for answers…and I found this. The same person who did this killed Karen and David. Remember the rats at the fence? They showed up the same day she was killed. We got a psychopath living with us," Tyreese explains.

I might have believed him if it wasn't for the fact that the person responsible is already gone. Whoever did this is not connected with Karen and David, but I will agree with Tyreese. Somebody here isn't in their right mind.

"Tyreese-" Rick tries, but the man only cuts him off.

"We got to find him, Rick. And I'm not gonna sleep until we do."

"Tyreese, whoever did this, I don't think they killed Karen." His face scrunches up in confusion and I ready myself for the next part of Rick's confession.

"Why?"

But the words get swallowed with a deafening explosion that shakes the walls around us as fear steals our breath.

Oh God.

My feet are moving before Rick can mutter a hurried, "Come on." Acid burns my throat, the thousand questions flitting through my mind making me sick. The sun bears down on me as I slam through the door, my feet slapping on the concrete to where Carl, Maggie, and Beth are crowded behind the guard tower. I come to a sudden stop as I look out across the field, reaching out to Daryl instinctively. My hand grips his in a death grip because fuck, we are fucked.

Half a dozen cars sit parked outside the fence with a tank, more than a dozen people armed with weapons. This can't be happening.

"Rick! Come down here. We need to talk."

My eyes grow wide and Daryl's grip becomes iron tight around my hand. I can't tear my gaze from the form standing on top of the tank because that voice is the same one that ordered a walker to be thrown at me, the same voice that was going to make two brothers fight to the death for freedom. The fucking Governor is alive and standing outside our fences with a tank. Rick glances at Daryl and me, fear and uncertainty swimming in those sharp blue hues.

"It's not up to me!" he calls back to the man. "There's a council now. They run this place."

"Is Hershel on the council?"

No.

The old man is pulled from a red SUV, hands tied behind his back as he is led to the front of the tank and pushed to his knees. Maggie and Beth both gasp at the sight before them.

"How about Michonne? Is she on the council, too?"

I'm moving towards the fence, my gun already free as Michonne is pushed to her knees. My hand wraps around the fence to rip it open, but two hands grip each arm, pulling me back. I shrug them off, my heart in my throat, panic burying deep into my bones.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick. So, come on down here and let's have that talk." I shake my head, stepping up to Rick,

"Let me go down there. "

"Aria…" Daryl starts, grabbing my arm once again, but I continue to plead with Rick.

"He won't listen, okay? He's going to kill them and then kill us." A long sigh rushes from him, his gaze traveling behind me to Daryl.

"We have to try."

"Rick, please…"

"We can do this."

No, we can't.

But he's already moving down the gravel path, hand on his Python, without a look back.

"This is a bad idea," I growl at Daryl as he shuts the fence behind our leader.

"Rick will handle it."

"Yeah, like he handled Carol." The muscles in his jaw twitch, those sun dried lips pulled into a tight line.

"Now isn't the time. We don't have the manpower to take them on. We need to focus on getting everyone ready it this goes south."

I bite my lip, turning my attention to the standoff in the field as Daryl brings everyone up to speed on what to do. He's right and this exact moment is what I have feared ever since Olivia spilled Metatron's plans, ever since this virus hit. We have no way to fight back. It's either surrender or die, and neither is an option in my book.

Why did he come here? He had nothing do with us. He was Oriax's puppet.

Oriax wanted the prison so he could draw more people in, turn their souls. The governor just wanted power. Why he would come back here doesn't make sense. Could it be revenge for Woodbury? Revenge on Michonne for the eye? Each is a viable motive, but something doesn't feel right.

Cool metal is pressed to my arm and I look away to find an AR-15 waiting for me. I grab it from Daryl, checking the magazine and chamber before clicking the safety off and switching it to semi-automatic firing. I line my sights, looking down the holographic scope, counting the number of enemies. My breathing evens out, the basic training from my time in the military kicking in. There's more than we can handle, but if the two guys in the tank and the two guarding Michonne and Hershel were taken down, they stand a chance at escaping. Five precise shots, that's all it would take to end this. A war can be prevented, another threat taken care of.

Daryl crouches down beside me, the barrel of his rifle resting on the diamond holes of the fence. Carl's on the other side of him, all of us waiting for what's to come next.

You could end it right now, Aria.

My grip tightens on the hand guard, my middle finger caressing the trigger. I breathe in slowly, eyes trained down the scope at the one-eyed man atop the tank, watching the crosshairs rise up and down as I exhale.

"We got to do something," Carl comments, repositioning his grip on his rifle.

"Your Dad's got it." I roll my eyes at Daryl's comment.

Rick's a great man, there's no denying that, but this moment requires death. The Governor has to die or else he won't stop until he gets whatever he wants.

"They're talking. We could kill the Governor right now."

"From fifty yards?" Daryl questions roughly.

"Yeah," I answer quickly. "Carl's right, we could end this right now. We're all good shots. If we take down the two in the tank and the two guarding Hershel and Michonne, they can make a break for it."

"And start something?" I tear my gaze away from my sights, looking into the hooded blue eyes beside me,

"Or end something."

He gives a quick shake of his head, turning back to the standoff down in the field, "No, it's too risky. You gotta trust Rick."

"He doesn't know who he's up against, you and I do. He's not going to listen to Rick." I glance behind Daryl at Carl, taking control of this situation like I should have when the prick called for Rick, "On my count take down the girl guarding Hershel."

"No," the hunter barks at the boy, standing to his full height as he yanks me up from my position. "What the hell has gotten into you?" I rip my arm from his grip, holding that fiery blue gaze, firing back with my own snarl,

"Two of people are going to die if we don't act now!"

Losing them is not an option, losing this prison is not an option either. I'm tired of people thinking they can take what they want from us, screw us and beat us down. We are not underdogs.

A sharp gasp meets my ears, pulling my attention straight to the field. The Governor stands beside Hershel, Michonne's katana pressed against the old man's throat. Fire burns in my veins as I raise my rifle, lining my sights at the bastard's head.

Do it for Maggie and Beth, for what he put Glenn through.

My finger rests on the trigger, breathing slowing as I ready myself, but Daryl slaps my rifle down,

"Wait."

"You're kidding me right now! You still think Rick is handling it? The guy's got a fucking sword to Hershel's throat and you think we can still talk it out?" The others ignore us, keeping their focus trained on the nerve racking scene before them.

Exactly where you need to be looking right now.

"I'm handling this once and for all," I growl, stepping around Daryl to put an end to this threat. Again, I ready myself, the world growing eerily quiet as I suck in a deep breath, aiming down my sights once more.

Finish this.

Finger on the trigger, I move the sights to the one-eyed man's head, but the silence is shattered with a soft whistle of a blade swinging through the air. My breath catches, chest clenching so tight I don't know if air can be drawn in. The katana swings through the air and sinks into the side of Hershel's neck, red immediately spraying out and staining his clothes. My screams mix with Maggie and Beth's, all sense of control lost.

I fire, empty brass casings rain down around my feet as I aim for anything beyond the fence. Bullets bounce off the concrete walls of the guard tower, missing us by mere inches. All my training is thrown from my mind as I spray the bullets over the field, but the minute the tank fires up, its treads crushing our fences like a fly, I force my breathing into a normal pattern and start picking off the enemy one by one; John's voice ringing in my head,

"You've got to control your emotions."

"Everyone move back now!" I holler, shuffling backwards as I continue to lay down covering fire, tapping Daryl's shoulder for him to move with me. The two of us move quick, finding cover behind the wooden pallets on the fence line. Cars speed into the field, men hanging out the windows, the muzzles of their weapons flashing with the spray of bullets. I inhale, squeezing the trigger three times simultaneously on the exhale, and watching the man in the red pick-up slump over the passenger door.

A quick flash sputters from the barrel of the tank, my body tensing as the shell makes impact with C block, shaking the concrete ground. The wheels of the tank grind together as they approach and Daryl taps my shoulder moving deeper into the courtyard. Shots whiz by, the two of us hunched over as we slip behind the old filing cabinets from the administrative building. Bullets ping off the metal cover, our breaths heavy as we both reload. Our people run from C block, running for the escape bus and my stomach knots as I watch the sick stumble into the armored vehicle.

Hadley.

That ocean gaze flickers to me as Daryl locks and loads his rifle, crossbow strapped securely over his chest.

"Ready?"

I nod, and the two of us pop up from our crouched position, drawing the fire from the others. Two shots to the chest and one to the head, the people fall. I take two more down before, slipping behind cover of the filing cabinet. My breath catches, Daryl's name on the tip of my tongue as a walker stumbles up behind him. I pull him to me, the walker stumbling into me instead, its gnashing teeth inches from my face. Its arms grip my shoulders, but I turn, slamming it into the fence as Daryl slams a piece of rebar into its temple.

Bullets rain down on us and I flinch, one piercing the metal cabinet right behind me, a few inches from my neck. Daryl slams me into his body, hand curled tight around my bicep, his breaths heaving with the fear in his gaze. I shake off the close call, glancing back at the bus full of the sick. Hadley's not in there, I know it. She doesn't care what happens to her now. She thought she should have been the one to die last night, now she's going to let death come right for her.

"I have to get Hadley."

Daryl's gaze flickers from C block to me, panic lining his worn features. A sharp huff leaves his sun dried lips before he picks up the dead walker body. "I'll cover you. As soon as you get her, you get back out here and find me. I ain't leaving without you." I nod, checking the magazine on my rifle.

On three, Daryl slips out from behind cover, shielded by the corpse as bullets rattle the walker. The hunter pulls the pin on a grenade, tossing it at the group huddled beside the tank. I draw in a deep breath and sprint on the explosion. Gunfire rings out around me, another shell rocketing into the stone fortress, crumbling its walls just as I slip into the destroyed home.

Dust hangs in the air, each particle illuminated by the streaks of light streaming in from the windows. Air is sucked into my lungs, boots slapping against the concrete as I skid on the turns of the halls.

"Hadley!" The familiar walls leading to A make me push faster, heart thudding in my chest. Rubble scatters the floor, chunks of stone with fragmented rebar blocking the first few cells. "Hads!" I yell, racing to the back corner cell. Adrenaline pounds heavily in my veins when I see her still curled up on the ratty mattress.

Don't be dead.

I raise my rifle, inching closer. "I'm not dead, Aria." She turns to face me, eyes swollen with her dried up tears.

"We need to go," my voice out of breath as I lend her a hand. "And don't you say no because I'm not letting you die without a fighting chance." Dead brown eyes stare up at me, void of the ability to care. Gunfire continues to sound from outside, the walls of the prison shaking once more as another shell hits our home.

Fuck this.

I rip her up and out of the bed, dragging her along with me, forcing her to keep up with my hurried pace.

I just need to find Daryl.

Hadley stumbles behind me, her wheezing breaths echoing off the stone walls. Slipping her arm around my shoulders, I pull her tight to my side, giving her more support for her weak body. "Just hang in there, Hads." We take the final turn back to C block, my feet turning to concrete bricks in the doorway. "No, no," I mumble, taking in the rubble that was once the doorway out to the courtyard, the courtyard where Daryl is waiting. Hadley leans into the iron bars of the door as I try to find a way through the devastation. There's no out though. I run my hands through my hair, muttering several choice words.

You'll find him. Get out of here first.

My eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment, popping open to find Hadley slumped on the door, barely managing to stay upright. She's not doing well at all and this place isn't going to be safe for much longer. Walkers will find their way inside and at that point it's a death wish. "All right, we're going to go out the back way and try to meet up with the others." Hadley musters a nod, grateful as I pull her to me, giving her the support she needs. The rifle bounces against my back, the strap tight across my chest, the demon knife in my free hand.

All remnants of gunfire have ceased, the prison halls silent save for Hadley's heavy breaths. It's not long before we reach the blown out wall of the prison leading out the back way. Makeshift doors cover the hole, an abandoned truck and prison squad car blocking the cinderblock wall that was blown through. The area is clear of walkers at the moment, a few stumbling forms identifiable in the distance, staggering between the trunks of the trees. I rest Hadley against the stone wall as I pull a spare bobby pin from inside of my boot and pick the locks holding the chains together.

"How are we supposed to find the others?"

"Let's just focus on getting out of here and away from this place," I answer, openning one lock and starting on the next. Truth is, I have no clue how I'm supposed to find Daryl and the others. The plan was to get on the bus and haul ass if something like this happened. There was never a real destination in mind. All that mattered was getting to safety. I doubt everyone is even on the bus. We are all scattered, no clue as to who is alive and who isn't.

Don't focus on that. Get out of here first.

I finish the last lock, hauling the spare cell door out of the way and leaning it against the prison wall. "Alright, time to go," I huff, wrapping Hadley's arm around my shoulder.

"You gonna defend the both of us with that knife?" She questions weakly, looking down at the rubble of slope to beyond the fence where walkers are just beginning to break through the edge of the forest.

"Good point." I grab my Berreta from the back of my jeans, handing it to her. "Make the shots count."

The rubble shifts under our feet as we scale down, most of Hadley's weight on me. It's a balancing act and both of us are slightly out of breath when we reach the bottom. We slip through the cab of the truck and slide over the hood of the squad car, finally free to escape the war zone that is now our home. A dozen or so walkers migrate from the woods drawn by the gunfire.

Time to move.

I turn us left, coming face to face with a tall red-headed woman dressed in a leather jacket and high heeled boots. Every muscle in my body tenses, my grip tightening as Hadley raises the gun. She doesn't hesitate, firing the weapon and hitting the red head square in the chest. The gun falters in her hands, my heart thumping faster because the woman is still standing, a chuckle falling from her red painted lips as she lifts up the black t-shirt. A kevlar vest stopped Hadley's shot, the silver butt of the crushed bullet embedded right in the center of her chest.

"Nice shot," the woman comments, flicking her wrist and sending Hadley and I flying through the air. The air whooshes out of my lungs on impact with the unforgiving earth, eyes screwed shut.

"Fucking demons," I groan, grinding my fist into the dirt to push myself up. The demon knife is a foot away, Hadley a little farther, still flat on the ground. I reach for the only weapon that can protect me, but the woman's foot comes down on my hand, a scream ripping from my throat. Long red nails curl in my hair, pulling me up to my knees. I hiss, grabbing at her arm,

"I expected you to be more prepared for this moment, Aria, especially with your angel guard dogs patrolling."

"Are you going to monologue or just move on with the killing because I've heard the demon spiel enough." Those red lips spread wide in a smirk,

"Where would the fun be in killing you now?"

Walker's sound from behind me, their groans growing louder the closer they come. I glance at Hadley, noticing she hasn't made much progress. Adrenaline pounds in my veins, the weight of the situation hitting me hard. The demon shoves me to the ground, looking down at me with olive green eyes, "Next time you see Crowley, tell him long live the queen."

My heart jumps into my throat and I reach for the demon knife. I roll to my back, ready to fight, but the demon's gone. My mind reels with the woman's last words.

Abaddon.

The puzzle pieces click together and the events of the day come together. She was working with the Governor, she had to. Dean and Sam said she would have an army. The bitch was harvesting souls, using soulless people as pawns for her dirty work. All those people with the Governor could have been with her, why else would she be here?

I don't get to focus long on the thoughts, the walkers closing in on the two of us. Their numbers seem to have grown from when we first got out here, circling us like a fighting ring. "Come on, Hads," I murmur, pulling my friend up and into me. She's pale, skin ghost white, chest heaving with exertion. I put down the panic that threatens me at her state, and move us as fast as possible towards the woods.

The dead only follow us, their groans turning into a roar with their numbers. Hadley grows limper in my arms, letting me drag her through the rough terrain. Her foot catches on a root, the two of us colliding with a tree. "Fuck," I breathe out, sweat dripping down my face, my muscles quivering with the weight of Hadley.

"Aria, just let me go."

"No."

Hadley's shoulders slump as I move us again, trying to keep a distance between us and the walkers. She can't give up. Not yet. She might be the only family I have left right now. I don't know who's alive and who's not. I need her.

"Aria-"

"Shut up and move your legs, Hadley," I snap with finality. She doesn't get to stop. This world is about fighting until your last breath. Surrender isn't an option.

The ground comes to an end, a steep drop greeting us as I jerk us to a stop. Trees and rocks line the sloped edge of loose soil, a rough ride if you fall down it. I glance behind us and curse under my breath. Thirty yards and closing are the walkers, their rotting bodies stumbling right for us. My gaze sweeps the area, formulating a plan of action. There's no time to see if there's another way around and we can't take out all the walkers. Time's ticking and Hadley can barely stand.

Fuck.

I rip the rifle from over my shoulder, sheathing my knife. "We're going to jump." Hadley barely shakes her head, sweat coating her like a second skin,

"I can't."

"Hadley, we don't have time to argue this. We're going!" I grab her arm, moving right to the edge, "On the count of three."

But Hadley jerks me around to face her, brown eyes weak and resigned with unshed tears swimming there, two words breathed out in between her suffocating gasps,

"I'm sorry."

Movies slow these moments down, dragging it out, but life doesn't slow down for anyone. No, adrenaline sears through your veins like wildfire. There's no time to reason, no time to stop and think. It's a split second, and then your world is caving in on you, burying you alive.

Her hands slam into my chest, throwing me off balance, and then I'm reaching blindly to pull her with me, her name gasped from my lips before all the air is knocked from my lungs. I slam into the ground, tumbling out of control, hitting every possible rock, tree, and bush on the way down. There's no way to brace myself as I'm thrown down the ridge, limbs flailing, trying desperately to slow my fall. The air is knocked from me, keeping my screams locked inside as my back slams into a tree trunk. Sharp, stinging pain shoots through each part of my body. The flat ground meets me with an unwelcoming hug, knocking the air once again from me.

Breathe, you've got to breathe.

But I barely can, each inhale accompanied by a wheezing gasp until the fourth breath where air finally seems to fill my lungs the right way. I focus on slow, deep breaths, eyes screwed shut as I wait for the pain to settle. A gunshot messes up that pattern, eyelids springing open to find the evening sun staring down at me.

No.

I roll to my hands and knees, a slew of groans falling from my dirt covered lips.

Get the fuck up now, Aria.

Muscles protest as I get my feet under me, staggering a step. The forest around me is empty and my gaze shoots up the ridge to where Hadley shoved me. No, no, no.

"HADLEY!"

Nothing.

I start climbing, ignoring the burn of pain in my bruised muscles. She has a full fucking clip, where are the other shots?

A lump lodges itself in my throat, panic making my hands tremble. "HADLEY!" I scream again, ignoring the strain of my tight voice.

She's okay, she has to be damn it.

There's no answer back.

"Fuck, fuck," I mumble, climbing as fast as possible. Another scream threatens to rip from me, frustration eating at me. The ridge is a hard climb back up, not easy at all when you're trembling in fear and hurt. Prayers fly from my lips, not a fuck given who shows up so long as she is all right when I get up there.

"I'm sorry."

My grip falters on a branch, those two words ringing loud and clear in my head. "You are not fucking dead, damn it." Words are words; they don't mean anything without proof, without action.

I dig my fingers into the earth, clawing my way over the edge of the top, gasping from the exertion, but with the turn of my head those gasps cease. There's no air, no sound, just crushing agony that bears down on me like a tsunami. Walkers kneel beside Hadley, their hands clawing into her abdomen, her entrails laid out for them to feast on. Something snaps inside me, suffocating waves crashing over me. Red floods my vision and I'm charging, a warrior's cry leaving my tear stained lips.

I rip the walkers apart like they ripped her apart, the demon knife and my fist wreaking havoc for all the pain these monsters have caused. Their bodies lay around me, dispatched for good as my knees quake, lips moving but nothing coming out as the floodgates crumble and that lump in my throat closes my airways.

I fall beside her mangled body, hands hovering over her ripped open stomach. "It's okay, you're going to be okay," I mumble, uselessly trying to put her back together. "Please, you have to be okay...Fuck! Please!"

She's dead.

That one fucking gunshot, that single bullet wasn't her trying to defend herself. That damn apology wasn't for pushing me off a ledge. It was her apologizing for giving up, for thinking she couldn't make it.

"God damn it, no, no, NO! PLEASE, NO!" I toss the demon knife, tearing up the plants around me before I curl over and scream. Everyone is gone. "What am I supposed to do?" I sob, letting the world punish me once again. My family is separated, dead, I don't fucking know. There's nothing left in this world for me. How the hell am I supposed to find everyone or even know where to start looking?

You deserve to be alone. You're poison. Hadley was wrong, you didn't save her. You led her right to her death. You're not meant to save lives you're meant to take them. You're a monster, a murderer, trained to shut yourself off from the world and become the one thing you despise most. Olivia said it just like it is, you're nothing more than Oriax. He carved you into the perfect monster just like the sculptor he is. This darkness that you're fought so hard against belongs here, Aria.

Why don't you do everyone in this world a favor and stop fighting what you are? Because continuing to fight just raises the red in your ledger. Just do what you do best, continue to fail. You're already dead inside, so let it in, let the dark take over. There's nothing to fight for, nothing to hope for. Why don't you cause some pain, the same kind this world has inflicted on you. Make them all suffer as much as you have.

The monster claws at my chest, tearing into my broken heart and mending it with its numbness. This is right. Emptiness. Nothingness. The closest I can get to death. I am a tortured soul, a ghost of who I was. There's no saving me anymore, no saving the world.

The air crackles with fire, the evening sky thundering. It's like the sky is bleeding, but it's not blood that falls. I wipe my nose, watching as fireballs rain down from the sky. They crash to the earth, one not more than fifty feet from me. Gingerly, I move towards the crater, peering down cautiously. But it's just another hit. Lying in the dirt is a young man dressed in a suit.

Angels.

The only chance the world had was Heaven and us. Now they have nothing.