I have to find Tyreese. My stomach is still hurting, twisting and turning, tightening from the smell clinging to my nose. The image of Karen burned behind my eyes. I'm forced to see it on repeat, the feeling of listening to a broken record, stuck on a song that reminds you of a memory you'd rather not have.

People step out of my way as I pass them by. Their once kind smiles now seem to fear me, scared of the feelings that shouldn't be behind these fences. These fences, where everything is safe and happy, and where no one dies.

I search everywhere for Tyreese. Only finding him when I find myself where I was on my first day here. The graveyard.

Bob is with him, the two of them digging a grave each. Two canvas-covered bodies nearby. I hadn't even considered the other husk, David. Another person I will never get to know.

I walk until Tyreese sees me. Then I sit on the ground, watching them dig. I realise that I won't be able to help, my wrist stinging when I move it for proof.

I catch Tyreese looking at me. His face is battered, his left eye hiding behind a bruised socket. His right puffy and red from crying. What happened?

When the men finish digging, Bob leaves, giving me a pat on the shoulder, words escaping him, me too.

Tyreese beckons me to him silently.

I approach him, my legs shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, bearly a whisper. "I should have been there."

He looks blank, nothing in his eyes, no rage, no grief. Just eyes, staring through me, searching for something.

He finally comes out of his search and pulls me into a hug. I hug him back, feeling a flicker of emotion return to me. We share it between us, cradling it like embers of a small fire trying to stay lit under a raging blizzard.

The flicker burns out, and snow buries us, smoke escaping into the air as we pull apart, the feeling of nothing returning to us both.

"What happened to your face?"

Ty ignores my question, looking down at his hands instead, to a tarnished silver bracelet, bent out of its shape. He caresses it with his thumb for a moment, then hands it to me.

"take it," he breaths. His voice is dry and raspy.

I hesitate, "Don't you want it?"

He shakes his head, "No, Rhys. I- I can't. Not now."

I take it gingerly, wiping the dirt from its inscription, remembering it-

'Rock Paper Scissors.'

Rick comes to pay his respects, although he doesn't say anything respectful. Instead, asking me to give him and Tyreese space to talk. I see his face, bruised like Tyreese's. I want to feel the rage inside me, I want to scream at him for what happened, but I know it isn't his fault. Though I'm not sure that Tyreese sees it the same way.

C is crowded with people, either coughing or staring with sympathetic eyes, which follow me across the courtyard as I choose to avoid it. Instead, heading down to the field. Scared of the latter.

I have to get away from people. Eyes watch me from towers, hiding in the dry grass and shaded woods. The gravel crackles beneath my faded red trainers. I find myself at a sideways prison bus, lying by the main gate. I try the back door, but it sticks, jammed shut by the weather and time, so I climb up, getting in through the main door pointing up at the sky.

Maggie watches me do all of this from the guard tower, saying nothing, just like everyone else.

I find a seat in the sideways bus on a window, pushing into the grass below it. I lie between the seats and sigh out a breath of relief.

Everything is quiet. No one can see me here.

I cry until it hurts my eyes, stinging salt on sensitive skin. I keep crying after that, hoping that my dreams will be kinder.

Falling asleep is easy. It's the waking up that scares me.

Karen is with me. I can't see her, but she's here.

She holds me tight, stroking my hair, and whispering faintly into my ear. I can't hear what she says, and everything feels unfamiliar, so I look up at her face. But it's gone, replaced by blisters and pain. Tears fall from her empty eye sockets. Tears turn into puss and blood as they run down her torn cheeks.

I try to move away, but she holds me tighter, squeezing me until I can't breathe.

That smile is still missing. She parts her gritted teeth, lips tearing open, trying to speak, but nothing comes through. She doesn't look scared or angry. She doesn't look like her.

I wake up, the sun is high, and the clouds are gone. My eyes sting as I look out the window above me. I bring my hand to my eyes, feeling them to be puffy and swollen. Realising I must have been crying in my sleep.

I hear soft footsteps on the busses side above me. Carl, dropping down inside through the forced open door, gives me an awkward smile.

I can't return it, so I look away.

"Hey," his voice was so gentle. I can't look at him.

"Who talked?" I try to avoid the elephant on the bus, "Maggie?"

"Yeah," Carl slumps himself beside me.

I still can't look at him.

He reaches out.

"I saw the pigpen was on fire." I blurt out, shuffling away from him slightly.

He takes the hint.

"Yeah," he repeats. "Dad thinks we made them sick."

"Or they made us sick."

I somehow hear him smirk at my comment.

"Dad gave me my gun back," he slides something across the floor to me, "Figured it's only fair."

I inhale, holding it. I bring my eyes down.

My spear lies before me. I take it in my hands, feeling a small part of me return with its weight.

I look at Carl. "Thank you." It's barely a whisper. I'm not even sure if I said it at all, but he hears me anyway.

"What about my gun?" I ask him, getting a funny look in response as he bites his bottom lip.

"Dad thinks that it's not a good idea right now."

Does he think I'm going to use it on myself? He thinks that I survived this long to end it like that?

"I get it." I lie.

We sit there for a moment longer, maybe too long, because everything feels wrong in the quiet. Like we're waiting for a storm on the horizon, each crack of thunder only leaving the quiet moments more deafening.

"Maggie actually sent me to get you." Carl finally lets the storm hit, rain pouring onto the bus and seeping into my safe place.

"I think I'll stay here for a bit," I fiddle with the string holding the knife to my spear.

"Dude."

"..."

Carl sighs, standing up. "If you don't come, she'll send Glenn instead of me, and he'll make you. So just come now."

I consider my options, realising I don't have that many.

"Fine."

Maggie is waiting for me in her cell. Sitting on the edge of her bed with a bowl of water on her lap and a cloth submerged.

"Hey, honey," she pats an empty space on the bed next to her.

"Carl said you wanted to see me?"

She doesn't answer, just patting the spot next to her again.

I give up, taking her offer.

"Daddy may have bandaged your hand, but I don't think he saw that cut under all that mess." Maggie points up to my forehead, where it had bounced off the wall in my struggle with Daryl.

I nod, giving her the all-clear.

Maggie brushes the hair away from my wound, the length of my curly hair now almost covering my eyes. She takes the cloth from the water, wringing it out before pressing it to my cut.

I wince as the warm water connects with my blood, and Maggie starts cleaning the wound.

"Daryl didn't mean to be so rough." Her words are sweet.

"I know." Mine are blunt.

"How's your hand feeling?"

"Fine."

"The water's not too cold?"

"No."

Maggie stops. Putting the cloth back into the bowl and facing me.

"I'm sorry about Karen." She tells me.

I don't say anything.

"She was a real kind lady."

I still stay silent. What can I say?

"You need to be there for Tyreese now."

"What?" I finally find something to say that is worth saying.

"With Karen gone, and Sasha sick. He's only got you to rely on."

I feel that same feeling coming back to me, wanting to throw up air.

"Sasha's sick?"

Maggie looks surprised that I'm only just finding this out.

"She is. Ty is going to need you."

"We were only close because of..." I can't say her name. It sticks in my throat like dry venison. "He doesn't want me bothering him."

As Maggie puts a gauze pad to my head, securing it with off white medical tape, she gives me this look like she knows everything in my head. Like she feels sorry for me.

"Well' you can go now," Maggie puts the reddish water bowl down by her boots, "But just so you know, I think you're wrong. I think you two will need each other."

"I'm fine."

I try not to thank her before leaving, caving when she waves goodbye.

Carl is in our cell, trying to force a laceless shoe into an orange rucksack. I stand in the doorway, watching him pack it.

He jumps a little when he notices me watch him, his hand on his holstered gun until he realises.

"What you up to?" I ask. Trying to sound normal.

"Dad says that we need to move to the administration building with..." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose the same way his father occasionally does, "with the other kids."

I can tell it upsets him to be considered a kid since he physically recoils after saying the word.

"Can I help?" I ask him, picking away at chipped paint on the cell bars.

"I've already packed your stuff in my bag," Carl tells me.

He can see the look on my face, so he smiles and points at his bed.

"Can you grab the sleeping bag from under there?"

I nod, getting on my hands and knees in better circumstances and fishing around under the cot.

I pull it out, brushing cobwebs and spider off with my sleeve. A picture frame sits on the fabrics, hidden between its creases.

A man, who looks strange for some reason I can't put my finger on, has his arm around a woman I don't recognise. She's beautiful, long brown hair leading down to a loving smile that feels warmly familiar. I trace her arm with my finger down to a young boy who I recognise immediately as Carl. The puzzle finally fits, and I realise the man is Rick, made uncanny by his smile and lack of beard.

"Is this you?" I hold out the frame.

Carl looks up from his rucksack, seeing the picture in my hands. He nods with a sad expression covering his freckled face.

"You look like her," I point to the woman I now guess to be Carl's Mum.

Beth had told me about what happened to Lori while feeding Judith. She could see the question on my lips and saved me the discomfort of asking.

A red tint appears across his cheeks, smiling the same smile that I had recognised in the photograph. I hand him the frame, and he pushes it inside his orange rucksack.

"And, you never told me you were so adorable!" I tease, "What happened?"

Carl grins at my effort to be normal, but Rick appears in the doorway before Carl has a chance to make some witty retort.

I don't look at Rick. Although I still don't blame him for what happened, I know that it won't take much for me to come up with a reason to. Instead, I look at his new holster. It's housing a massive gun that I'm pretty sure is called a colt python, something from a western I'd watched before everything changed. In the film, the cowboys had retired from their former life of slinging lead to start an honest one- a normal one. The bad guys still found them, though, forcing them to fight to keep a life of peace.

Carl's Dad tells us he needs us in the admin building to make sure everyone's safe. When he sees that I'm not arguing, he focuses all his authority onto carl, who, of course, argues back. In the hope of staying out of it, I keep folding and unfolding the same t-shirt, trying to look busy.

Carl says something about shooting his gun, backing it up with a "Right Rhys?" to which I nod.

Finally, Carl slings his bag over his shoulder, which I take as a sign to grab the satchel I arrived with. He takes me by the sleeve and drags me out of the cell. Rick watches this with a strange look but doesn't say anything.

We pass Daryl and Michonne on our way to the admin offices. Like Maggie, they give me a look. Different from the one Carl gives me, but not the same as everyone else gives me. Just different.

We arrive in the admin block, greeting the kids and old people we're supposed to be looking out for. Carl handles all the people trying to give me condolences, pushing our way past everyone and telling them we all need to keep our distance.

When we find an uninhabited office, we go inside. I hear a click as Carl locks it behind us.

Carl and I throw our bags on the desk, causing an explosion of dust. I try to open the window, only instead managing to break the handle with a loud crack. Carl starts putting blankets and sleeping bags on the floor for us while I find myself ripping the curtains from the widows, dropping them in a pile.

"What're you doing?" Carl asks me.

"I thought it would be cool if we took some stuff down to the bus later," I explain as I grab some cushions from the couch. "Since we're only allowed outside and in here."

Carl snickers at me. I think he realises that I need to take my mind away from Karen, and he lets me.

Then his face changes.

"What's wrong," I ask as I drop onto the small couch. More dust swarming the room.

"Nothing," he shrugs, "jus', how come you kissed Beth?"

"..." I don't know how to answer. With everything that had happened today, I'd forgotten about last night. I can see Carl waiting patiently for an answer. I think about not answering. Instead, I could go back to the bus and hide, but I want to be normal. I want to act like it.

"I didn't- I mean, she kissed me, and it didn't mean anything."

Carl walks over, sitting next to me on the cramped couch, a look of confusion on his face.

"How didn't it mean anything?" He asks, genuineness in his voice.

As we sit cross-legged, facing each other, I think about this question. "I think it was a friend thing, y'know? Like she was saying thank you."

Carl nods through his next question.

"Do you like her?"

"No. I mean she's great and everything, I guess, but no, I don't think so."

"A friend thing?" he considers this, skepticism filling his eyes.

"Okay, prove it." He presses a finger to his freckled cheek. "Kiss me."

"Erm... what?"

"You heard me."

Blue meets green once more. I keep staring into his eyes until I know he's serious. I lean forward, my hand on his knee to steady myself. He closes his eyes in anticipation.

I hesitate.

I kiss him on the cheek.

It's over as quick as the idea had arisen.

Carl stifles a giggle.

I pull away, smiling. It feels like the first time.

He opens his eyes, meeting mine in a still moment of uncertainty.

"A friend thing?" he asks.

I pause.

"A friend thing," I affirm.

Carl opens his mouth to say something, but we hear a door open in the corridor outside the office.

"I'll go check it out," Carl volunteers. He gets up, letting go of my hand, which I didn't even realise was in his. Grabbing his gun from the desk and exiting into the hallway.

I lie back on the couch. Then I get up. I pace across the room to the desk, then back to the couch, again.

I feel sick, the kind of sick you feel when you listen to a song your parents used to play, good thoughts flooding your brain.

I grab the rucksack from the desk and sit back on the couch, hugging it. I look up to the cracked ceiling, my head spinning. I cover my face under my arm in embarrassment.

"Rhys?"

I peek from my hiding place to see Carl's head poking around the office door.

"I gotta go help Hershel with something." He walks in, fishing through his orange rucksack, which was now on my lap as I doodle nothing in particular on it with a pen I'd picked from the desk.

"What would that be?" I ask.

"He wants to pick plants for the sick," he digs deeper in his bag, throwing clothes out, which I have to dodge.

"Something about making tea for them," he elaborates.

"And you want to help?"

"I just don't want Hershel to get into something he can't handle. Only having one leg and all."

"You're too good for this world." I smile at him.

He looks saddened by this, "you sound like my Mom."

I tilt my head, watching him. He finally pulls out a hat from his bag. The hat reminds me of that western again. A faded brown colour with a golden cord wrapped around it, catching the light as Carl brushes dust from the hat's rim.

"Cool hat," I say dumbly, still slightly dazed from earlier, "Want some help?"

"Nah, Hershel already doesn't want me coming along," He fixes the stetson on his head, "doubt he'll take kindly to a whole party."

"We playing DND now?" I ask with a smug grin.

"What?"

"Never mind," I slump back into the dusty cushions, disappointed.

We wave goodbye, and Carl's leaves me alone in the office.

The orange bag is still open. I put the blue inc pen down and rummage through it. I feel something familiar, so I pull it out.

There's a sting in my stomach, which replaces the good sick feeling with a painful one. I look at the book in my hands. The cover reads 'Born to Run' in bold white letters.

I open the book, flipping through the pages I read only days before. I find the halfway point, indicated with a folder page. I see something scribbled at the bottom of the page.

Rhys,

Try Not To Fold The Pages!

It Ruins The Book!

-Karen xoxo

I shake my head, thumbing at the bracelet in my pocket, laughing at how unimportant a crease on a page seems now. Laughing at how a folded page ruins the book, but writing on it doesn't.

A tear lands on the open page, ruining it further.

How could I forget?

I was smiling, laughing even. Letting myself think about Beth, and busses, and Carl, and kissing. All this, when Karen was murdered in her sleep and burnt beyond recognition. Her killer was still behind our fences, and I was thinking about things that don't matter.

There's a knock at the door.

I shut the book, wiping my eyes in the same movement.

Tyreese opens the door.

I slip the book into Carl's duffle.

"Hey, man," I stand up in greeting.

"Hey," he looks around the office as if expecting an ambush. "Listen, I'm heading out with Daryl, Bob, and Michonne," he tugs his beanie the same way I sometimes pull on my ear. "We should be back in a few days."

He stands there awkwardly. "Guess I just wanted to let you know."

I take a step towards him, but he moves back. I stand there, feeling small. He tells me we need to be careful of the sickness, but I know the real reason, so I just nod.

Tyreese, keep's talking. "One last thing. Do you mind keeping an eye on Sasha for me?" I nod again, but he goes on. "Since she got sick, I'm worried she's gonna feel like I'm abandoning her an-"

"I'll make sure she knows," I tell him, "Just be careful out there."

"Same goes for you, little man," He turns to leave, "don't forget there's a killer in these walls."