Most Wanted

by SquishyCool

Explicit AU: After the godly veil on the Greene Family drug operation is lifted, 18-year-old Beth commits a heinous crime to protect her family. Now she's the only one left free and is making a run for it to New York City. When she meets single dad Daryl Dixon, who just needs a little help covering the rent, she quickly realizes that some secrets can't be kept forever.

18. i'm completely alone at a table of frien

WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual content and rape.

---

i'm completely alone at a table of friends

It was August eleventh. They were fighting again. Beth would always remember the exact date but somehow, she could never remember exactly what started it – all their fights seemed to blur together by that point.

It would start with a comment from Beth or Jimmy, something passive aggressive and resentful, and the other would get upset and retaliate, and then it would escalate from there until they were yelling and screaming at each other. Eventually, Jimmy would lose control of his anger – which was happening more and more lately – and something would get broken or thrown or smashed or punched. And then they would get closer to each other, and he would grab her arm too tightly and she'd slap his face or give him a hard gut punch, and he would return the favor. He would have scratches down his arms – though, as the fights continued, she couldn't figure out which scratches were from her and which were self-inflicted during one of his meth binges.

Yet somehow, even despite all the physical and emotional pain they would cause each other, it always ended the same way: with Jimmy whispering teary-eyed apologies and kissing Beth's hands pleadingly while she half-heartedly pushed him away. Then she would give in and wrap her arms around him and remind herself that he was the only person she had outside of her family, and before she knew it, they'd be tangled up in each other and falling back onto his bed. They'd writhe and squirm against each other, mouths mashed together and hands wandering beneath clothing and slipping between thighs. And she would close her eyes and feel like she was back in a time when life was a little easier and they were madly, deeply in love.

There was a spot on her neck that he always knew to kiss and she would melt into a puddle before him. Sometimes she wanted to say no. But he always convinced her and got what he wanted. For the last few months, she had found that being intimate with him was becoming more and more difficult. As his addiction deepened, he was letting things like personal hygiene fall to the wayside. She'd stopped making any sort of comment about it because it always incited his rage. But she was finding herself less and less attracted to him, and more often than not, having sex felt more like a chore than a pleasure.

He had stopped worrying about her orgasms months ago, completely abandoning any sort of foreplay that didn't involve her mouth or hand, but she didn't say anything. She told herself they were in a rough patch, and it was something all couples experienced. Besides, she wasn't with him because of the sex, she was with him because she loved him and because she was determined to prove her father and sister wrong about her love for him – and his love for her.

During her alone time, when she would find that release she never got from Jimmy anymore, she would still imagine him in her head. Though, admittedly, she was imagining an earlier version of him, when he'd been healthy and drug-free and had tanned skin and always smelled like freshly mown grass and sunlight and aftershave. She had a whole stash of memories in her mind from the nights they'd spent together, when he'd kiss every inch of her body and tell her how beautiful she was and she would come so many times that she lost count.

Sometimes, she had to imagine one of those nights while he was on top of her. But it still didn't help her get anywhere near an orgasm.

She had never said no, either. She'd thought about it several times, but usually convinced herself to just give in and try to enjoy it as much as possible to get it over with. She knew that turning down sex would just start another fight anyway, because as time passed, Jimmy had become more and more paranoid and was often finding reasons to accuse Beth of cheating, so rejection would be more kindling for the flame that was already constantly lit. She knew she had to assure him that she still loved him, and told herself that he was so insecure lately because of the pressure from her family and his fear of losing her.

But then, she knew she had no real reason to say no either. He was her boyfriend and the love of her life, she was supposed to want to have sex with him all the time. She felt guilty for making him wait out the police presence around her family, and she knew it was her fault that they couldn't leave like he wanted to. If it had been up to her, they would've left together months ago. But they were still stuck here, going through the same old routines and arguments while they played an endless waiting game. She felt like the least she could do was sleep with him at least twice a week.

This time was different, though.

Jimmy was kissing that spot on her neck, whispering breathy "I love you"s into her ear, pressing the hardening bulge in his pants against her thigh. She was breathing heavily and closing her eyes and allowing her body to naturally react the way it always did. She let him slide off her pants and pull off her shirt, and then they undressed separately, hurrying, before pressing their bodies against each other again and kissing passionately. She laid beneath him, his weight barely noticeable atop her, and felt him nudging her inner thighs, urging her to open her legs and allow him entrance.

"You want this cock, baby?" He whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her whole body.

She nodded and writhed against him, kissing him harder.

"Tell me you want it," he whispered.

She broke away from his lips to mumble heatedly, "I want it, baby…"

He gripped her harder, pressing himself against her closed legs with more intent.

In between kissing, she paused and whispered against his lips, "Grab a condom."

He sighed, irritated, but she ignored it and watched him pull a condom from the drawer beside his bed and open it before slipping it on over his erection. When he leaned back down and repositioned himself above her, she began kissing him again, spreading her legs to accommodate his slight frame. She felt him enter, hard and throbbing, and she let out a moan. But she was closing her eyes and digging her nails into his back while hoping he would climax quickly.

He was thrusting methodically, grunts and groans eliciting from his parted lips. She felt his sharp hip bones jabbing into her, but tried to focus on the sensations inside. He was growing rougher and rougher with each thrust, and her nails were digging deeper into the skin of his back. But she continued to moan and breathe heavily and move in time with his thrusts to welcome him deeper.

The familiar tightness that came at the beginning of a long road to climaxing was forming inside her, but she was finding it more and more difficult to enjoy Jimmy's movements as he got more intense and fast-paced. Eventually, she could feel herself struggling to stay completely aroused, and then the sensation between her thighs changed completely.

He was still thrusting, grunting, groaning, his hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of Beth's body. But she had begun to squirm beneath him, attempting to adjust her position to find her own pleasure. He pushed himself into her harder, deeper, and suddenly, she realized exactly why the sensation had changed, and why Jimmy was getting more and more into it.

The condom had broken.

Any sort of sexual fog that had been clouding Beth's mind immediately cleared, and she opened her eyes to look down and attempt to see something between their bodies. But Jimmy was shoving himself completely inside her, unrelenting, and all she could think of was what would happen when he climaxed and didn't even attempt to pull out. Before she knew it, all the intimacy had fled her and she was no longer enjoying having Jimmy on top of her, or inside of her.

She pulled her hands off his back and brought them around to his front instead, pressing gently against his chest.

"Babe, stop – the condom broke," she whispered, hands pressed against the warm skin of his bare, hairless chest. She was trying to ask calmly despite the growing fear she felt.

He opened his eyes for a brief second to glance down and see the look of concern on her face, then closed his eyes again and continued thrusting. He simply shook his head and kept up the rhythm he'd been steadily maintaining.

Beth pushed a little harder, signaling to him that she was serious and wanted him to stop.

"It's fine, it feels better," he breathed, eyes still closed while he was thrusting.

Now she was becoming aggravated, and she pushed harder against him, but he was still refusing to stop.

"Jimmy, no, you need t'stop – "

"I'm not stoppin', Beth – I'm almost there…"

She was becoming panicked. She had never tried to stop him mid-session like this, and she was quickly realizing that he wasn't going to stop. "You have t'stop – I'm not on birth control, you have t'pull out, we need a new condom – "

"Shut the fuck up and let me finish!" He was aggravated now, and she knew her words would fall on deaf ears.

His skin was warm – too warm – against hers. He was sweating on her and he stunk, and she wondered how it had never truly bothered her until now. He was scrawny and barely weighed more than her, yet he was so strong. His body was heavy on hers and even when she tried to push him off of her, tried to push her hands harder and harder against his chest and get out of his grasp, he just used one hand and pushed back to keep her there, almost effortlessly. She felt powerless. Weak.

"I said no! Stop it!" Her voice cracked. She was trying to summon every ounce of her strength but it just wasn't enough.

She felt her chest tighten and the feeling of being trapped helplessly began to envelop her and make her panic. Her breathing quickened until she was almost gasping for breath, struggling against Jimmy's impossible strength, pushing and pushing but still unable to get him off of her. To get him out of her.

She pushed against him. He pushed back harder. And kept pushing. Kept thrusting. She tried to shove him. Tried to use every bit of strength she had to just… push. him. away.

But he wouldn't fucking budge.

"Stop – fightin' – what's yer deal?! You wanted this!" He grunted once he realized she was making a very real attempt at interrupting him, but he kept thwarting her attempts to get up, to shove him away. She couldn't even wriggle her hips to slip out because he'd pinned her with his own.

His breath stunk worse than his body odor. She no longer knew how she had ever brought herself to kiss him. How she'd ever let him get her into bed and naked. How she'd ever gotten wet with his stench in her nose.

How she'd ever let him touch her.

"I said no! Please – stop – I don't want it anymore, I-I'm sorry, just please – get off. Please," she began pleading, her normally tough demeanor vanishing as she melted underneath him. Her muscles were cramping and her insides burned. She tried to clench her thighs together, to shove him out, but he stopped her every time.

"Beth – ungh, Beth…!"

He was enjoying this.

She hadn't felt the tears form. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

"Fucking – STOP!" His hand went over her mouth and she didn't know why for a moment, until her screams became muffled and echoed back in her ears.

She hadn't realized she'd even been screaming. Nobody was around to hear her, why had she bothered?

He kept thrusting. Kept grunting. She bit his hand, tried to shove him away when he wasn't expecting it. But it was useless. He was getting what he wanted. He was grunting louder, breathing harder, digging his fingers and nails deeper into Beth's skin. Her tears were pouring down the sides of her face and down her ears and into her hair.

And then she could feel it happening: he was reaching climax and shoving himself as deep as he possibly could inside her.

Her screams stopped but her sobs didn't.

And then it was too late.

Jimmy was climbing off of her and walking away, angered and disoriented by her screams and tears. The only thought she could remember having right afterwards was that her family had been right… They'd been right the whole time, and she'd been so, so wrong. She was no longer in control of anything, not even the one thing she'd thought she had a choice over.

And it was her own. damn. fault.

---

Beth jolted awake. She sat upright and opened her eyes, gasping for breath. The space between her thighs burned, like a phantom pain. She could still feel Jimmy's hot breath on her neck and in her ear. Her heart was racing and she felt dizzy and disoriented as soon as her eyes were open. She could feel the bile rising in her throat and the tell-tale salivating that always came before vomiting. Without a second thought, she threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, racing out of the bedroom and into the bathroom next door.

She reached the toilet and lifted the lid just in time for the vomit to expel from her mouth, almost violently. She dropped to her knees on the cold tile and heaved, feeling all the contents of her stomach leaving her body. Her eyes watered and her throat burned, momentarily distracting her from anything else she'd been feeling.

The dream had felt so real that it took her several seconds to wade through the fogginess in her mind and remember where she was and what had happened. Her heart slowed and she calmed down as she realized that it was a bad dream, and it was still very much in the past and over with. The silence in the empty apartment settled over her and she relaxed knowing that she was alone… and safe.

It's been… almost a month, she thought to herself, counting the days in her head as she hovered over the toilet bowl. Time to move on.

Beth remembered thinking about Jimmy and her last encounters with him before she'd fallen asleep, most likely due to the content of her conversations with Daryl on the couch. As she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, standing up on shaky legs, she silently cursed her brain for making her relive that particular memory so vividly. She knew it was a dream, but no matter how many times she told herself that he was dead now – that he'd paid the ultimate price for everything he'd ever done – it didn't stop the waves of nausea from crashing over her when she thought about that night.

She had been distracted by everything else up until now. In her mind, she had bigger problems to deal with than what had happened on August Eleventh. She'd already spent weeks and days dwelling on that horrible night, thinking about it from every single angle and analyzing every little detail and 'what if.' It was unchangeable and pointless to dwell on. So she'd forced herself to stop thinking about it – convinced herself that she was making a mountain of a molehill.

And then the detectives had shown up, and the Beretta 92 in the hallway drawer had become her closest confidante, and August Eleventh had become like something in the distant past that wasn't even relevant to her anymore. Sometimes, it felt like it had happened to someone else. She couldn't say that she recognized the Beth that had been lying on that bed, letting that sweaty pile of bones and scab-riddled skin have his way with her. But then, she couldn't say that she was anything close to the Beth she'd been before – before she'd seen her own naivety and the severity of her choices.

Before she'd made a vow to herself and to her family that she wouldn't let her life be wasted.

She thought that maybe she'd distanced and detached herself so effectively, it wouldn't hurt her anymore, and she could just forget and move on to be a normal person. Maybe she'd convinced herself to focus on the bigger, more threatening problems that had formed since then. Or maybe she'd merely been preoccupied with running from the police – maybe it had always been a matter of time until she'd have to sit down and face this demon, too.

But it was dealt with. He'd paid the price. They all had. What more could she do? What more was there to do?

After splashing her face with cold water and rinsing her mouth, she waited until she felt steady again to head to the kitchen and get a glass of water. The waves of nausea weren't subsiding, and she'd seen how pale her face looked in the mirror. Once she'd swallowed half a glass of water and refilled it, she dragged herself back to her bed and plopped down. She rolled onto her side and shut her eyes tightly, trying her hardest to clear her mind and relax her body so that it would stop revolting against her. She wasn't even sure why the nausea was still overcoming her, as it had never lasted this long before. But then she thought that maybe it had just built up over time and needed a way to release itself…

Beth drifted back to sleep a few different times for about an hour each time. Her stomach was slowly settling and she took a small sip of water each time her eyes fluttered open. She glanced at the clock and saw that she'd woken up the first time shortly before nine, and now it was past noon. As she lay motionless, thankful that the nausea was receding for the moment, she remembered the plan she'd made to go to Rosita's house that evening. She groaned inwardly and immediately regretted agreeing to such a thing, then rolled over to look at the wall instead of the clock.

She laid in bed for another couple of hours before pulling herself up and heading to the kitchen to put something in her empty stomach. Tara's text had said they'd be gathering around five, so she still had plenty of time to get ready and find her way there. She didn't find coffee to sound appealing today, so she went for some ginger ale instead and made herself a couple of pieces of toast and scrambled an egg.

She ate slowly and it seemed to go down and settle without any complications. Once she was finished, she found herself feeling better and more clear-headed. She headed to the bathroom and ran a warm, bubbly bath for herself.

After an hour of lying in the warm water, relaxing, and washing her hair, she got out and dried off then got dressed. She brushed her teeth and checked herself in the mirror – the color had come back to her cheeks. She sighed and silently prayed that her mind would stop stressing her out like that. She began to think back on what Carol had told her and how much of it could actually be right. Maybe spending time around other people would help ease her nerves and make her feel somewhat like she belonged somewhere again. Or maybe it would just depress her more. At the moment, she was willing to make that dice roll.

She returned to her bedroom and laid back down for another hour or so, avoiding looking at her phone or worrying about any more bad news, before she decided to start getting ready and making her way to Rosita's. She put on a clean outfit, then gathered up all her things to place them back into the bag from under her bed. She gave the pocket watch a sentimental squeeze before dropping it in with the wads of cash, then placed the photo safely inside as well. She pulled the Beretta gingerly from beneath the pillow and holstered it inside the undershirt – it felt heavy and foreign to her today, and she changed from a blue shirt to a black shirt just because she was self-conscious that it was noticeable through the fabric. Then she hesitated at the nightstand drawer, opening it and pulling out the small statue souvenir that Irma had gotten her in Washington, D.C. She placed the souvenir inside the bag as well, then zipped it up and latched it before throwing it over her shoulders. The money seemed to make the bag feel heavier than usual on her back.

She decided against putting in the contacts and left them lying in the nightstand drawer. The jig was up with Daryl and Carol and if she continued wearing them around the other girls, it would just seem odd. Beth tried to assure herself that if she came into contact with anyone who gave her an odd vibe or seemed suspicious of her, she could always turn tail and leave.

As she closed her bedroom door and prepared to leave the apartment, she debated for a moment on leaving the bag behind. She figured she could stuff it inside a dresser drawer and no one would bother it, not even Malachi. But then she quickly decided against it. She knew it would put her on edge not to have the bag that practically held her entire life inside it on her person in this huge city. Even though having it on her person in such a large city also put her on edge. Keeping it with her was part of the "you can leave whenever you want" security blanket that gave her the courage to leave the apartment at all.

She was about to head for the door when she had a second thought and stopped, glancing down the hallway to the open bedroom door at the end. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the bar and scrawled onto it:

202-620-0322
Rosie

She slipped the small note underneath a magnet on the door of the freezer, in a spot where Daryl couldn't miss it. Or he could. She didn't necessarily need him to have her number tonight, but she figured it was a courtesy since he'd left her his number so many days ago – even though she hadn't used it.

Finally satisfied, she left the apartment. The spare key was stuffed snugly inside the pocket of her jeans, her phone in the other pocket, and she had locked the door and double-checked it before heading out. When she passed through the lobby, she noticed there was no one behind the desk again, and she wondered where Clem was. Then she wondered if she should expect to see her at Rosita's. Tara hadn't, after all, specified who would be attending other than the obvious guests. But then again, Beth hadn't asked either.

The weather outside was warm and clear, and Beth had brought along a light jacket but kept it tucked under her arm. The air was already beginning to cool down but the humidity was still present. She put on her sunglasses despite the low clouds that hung in the sky. She had decided to walk since it was a fairly short distance to Rosita's place – GPS estimated a thirty minute walk if she moved like an old woman – and she wouldn't be travelling outside the East Village. Plus, she wanted to familiarize herself with the surrounding areas. The fresh air and partial sunlight on her skin was nice, too.

Beth walked down street after street, passing rows of houses, apartment buildings, businesses, and a couple of parks. Most of the neighborhoods looked pretty similar to the one Daryl lived in, although there was quite a range of different scenery in between. She looked around at everything, trying to remember landmarks and details. She checked her phone every few minutes to make sure she was going the right way and to figure out which turns to make. She passed several people on the sidewalks, and the streets were growing busier and busier with rush hour traffic. But she kept her head down and her sunglasses on as she gazed at buildings and trees instead of the people and cars. Before she knew it, she was approaching the street that Rosita lived on.

Her pace slowed and she pulled out her phone as she walked closer to the building that she thought was Rosita's. She was still unsure because she couldn't see an exact address, though. She sent a text to Tara, simply saying, "I think I'm outside ?"

Beth pressed Send and then waited. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously, gazing around at the handful of people passing by on the sidewalks and the noisy cars in the street. The building she was standing in front of looked like just another variation of the dozens and dozens of apartment buildings she'd passed on her way there.

Within minutes, the front entrance of the building opened up and Tara stepped out, looking around for a second before spotting Beth and smiling. Beth approached and Tara held out her fist for a bump in greeting. Beth obliged and gently bumped her knuckles against the other girl's.

"Hey, you found it," Tara said, bright green sunglasses resting atop her head. "Did you walk?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't that far."

Tara grinned. "You're already travelling like a New Yorker. Nice!"

Beth smiled sheepishly and followed the other girl inside the building. They passed through a lobby that was a bit larger and nicer than the one in Daryl's apartment building, and then they stepped onto an elevator that took them up to the top floor.

"So, is this like – a party?" Beth asked as they stood and waited patiently to reach their stop.

Tara furrowed her brow and glanced over at Beth. "Carol didn't tell you?"

Beth shook her head.

Tara smirked, though, and happily explained, "It's Rosita's birthday!"

Beth was a bit taken aback – she had anticipated a small get-together with a few new acquaintances, not something as major as a birthday party. She was surprised they'd gone out of their way to invite her considering they barely knew her. And had Carol forgotten to mention that it was a birthday celebration, or had she left that detail out because she knew it would scare "Rosie" off? But she didn't have time to mull that over, because they were entering Rosita's apartment – all plush, cream-colored carpet and soft, cushy, black furniture.

To her pleasant surprise, the "party" wasn't what Beth had pictured and dreaded. The apartment was small and there were no decorations. There was, however, a small assortment of snacks set out on the dining table, which was centered inside the kitchen to the left of the front door. And directly in front of the door, there was a large, open space in the living room which was currently occupied by a fold-up card table that had six chairs situated around it. A large TV sat atop a heavy TV stand in the corner, but it was turned off and a Bluetooth speaker was sitting in front of it, playing rock music at a low volume.

Beth stepped further into the apartment, closing the door behind her and following Tara into the kitchen. She realized all the guests were huddled around the fridge, passing around drinks and plastic Solo cups. Rosita was there, standing very close to a tall, white guy with short, blond hair who was telling her quiet things that made her laugh. And a few feet from them was Enid, then Clem, and then Tara, who was approaching and helping herself to a bottle that Clem had been moving aside.

Beth glanced around the apartment, spotting a few closed doors and a short hallway on the other side of the living room, but there were no other people present. She remembered that Rosita had mentioned roommates but it looked like they were out for the night. It appeared that this birthday party actually was a small get-together, with a maximum occupancy of six.

"Rosie's here!" Tara announced to the group as she poured herself a cup of whatever was in the bottle she'd grabbed.

Beth slid her sunglasses up to rest atop her head and stood awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen, watching as everyone turned their attention to her for a few seconds. The girls all looked different from how Beth had seen them at the self-defense class: they were all dressed in jeans and cute dresses instead of leggings and tennis shoes, with flat-ironed or curled hair, and mascara, eyeliner, and blush on their faces. They all gave her smiles or waves, and Rosita was the first to walk over to her, pulling the blond guy along by his hand. She looked the happiest Beth had seen her yet.

"Rosie, thanks for coming! Oh, and Carol fixed your hair – it looks great!" Rosita greeted her happily.

"Oh, yeah – thank you," Beth said with a smile.

Rosita beamed and turned her attention to the tall guy. "This is Austin – Austin, this is Rosie. She just joined the class."

Austin smiled politely and nodded towards Beth, "Nice to meet you."

Beth smiled back, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. "You, too."

For a brief moment, she wondered if he could be a cop.

She turned back to Rosita and said, "Happy birthday, by the way! Um – no one told me until I got here or else I would've brought you somethin' – "

Rosita waved a hand dismissively and chuckled. "Thank you, but that's why we didn't tell you – we kinda figured you didn't know us well enough yet and you'd wanna be polite and bring a gift. But really, it's twenty-eight, who cares about that? I only did this much because Tara wanted an excuse to drink on a Wednesday night – "

"Rosie, d'you want a drink?!" Tara called from her spot next to the fridge, as if on cue.

"No, thank you," Beth called back. "Um – well, water."

"C'mon, it's a party," Rosita said playfully.

Beth shook her head. "I'm okay – I haven't really eaten much – "

Rosita's eyes lit up. "Oh! Clem's mom made cupcakes, and Enid brought homemade guacamole. Want some?"

Beth shrugged and smiled. "Sure."

"Oh, and you can put your stuff over here with everyone else's," Rosita instructed, pointing to a nearby living chair that held a couple of purses and a sweater.

Beth set her jacket, glasses, and backpack on the chair, trying to discreetly cover the bag with her jacket. Then she followed Rosita to the spread of food that was laid out on the table. Beth took a small portion of several different snacks, listening and laughing as Rosita made small jokes about the other girls' cooking skills. Enid and Clem wandered over to help themselves to more chips and guacamole and greeted Beth with smiles. Austin and Rosita soon became distracted by their own private conversation and drifted back into the kitchen.

With plates of food in hand, Beth trailed behind Clem and Enid to the kitchen, as well. She stood near a counter by herself, slowly nibbling on chips as the other girls talked and laughed. It appeared that Tara was the only one who was really drinking alcohol, because Rosita had seemed to abandon her plastic cup on the counter while Enid and Clem were sipping sodas. Beth was a bit surprised to see Clem here, and she had given Beth a genuine smile and didn't seem to be side-eyeing her tonight, although she was sticking pretty close to Enid. The two teenagers looked to be having their own private conversations and jokes in between their chit-chat with the others.

Beth stood alone, silently eating her snacks while she listened and occasionally participated in the others' conversations. But she was also zoning out here and there, drifting off into her own nagging thoughts. From what she learned after a few minutes, she understood that Carol wasn't attending for obvious reasons (Sophia), and Tara's girlfriend, Denise, would be coming by after she got off work – which was still a couple of hours away, and she'd most likely end up being Tara's designated driver. One of the girls mentioned Daryl's name, but Beth hadn't been paying close enough attention to see who it had been.

Then the girls turned their attention to Beth, and she felt her face turning pink as Enid attempted to make her a part of the conversation.

"Has Daryl said anything about Ally to you?" Enid asked, and Beth tried to remember exactly what they'd been saying to prompt this question.

"Who?" She asked, clueless.

Tara laughed. "Guess not."

Beth was paying closer attention now as the girls turned to each other and continued discussing their little bits of gossip. She quickly realized they were discussing the woman she had overheard Carol mentioning to Daryl.

"I don't think they've met," Rosita said. "Carol talked like it was a blind date, but I didn't ask how she knew her. "

"Well, I met her, she's friends with Carol and I think she had Carol watch her kid one day," Clem said.

"Oh, she's a single parent, too?" Rosita commented. "Maybe that'll be a good thing."

"Depends on the kid," Tara quipped. "Did you happen to meet the kid, too?"

Clem chuckled, "No. I think she has a son, too, but a little older. I dunno. She seemed pretty nice."

Enid shrugged. "Well, Carol knows him better than any of us, and she's the one matchmaking. When has she ever really been wrong?"

Rosita nodded. "That's true."

Tara clicked her tongue. "Yeah, dammit – the woman does know her shit."

Clem interjected, "Okay, but Rosie lives with him – "

They turned to Beth once again and she raised her eyebrows, giving them all a wide-eyed look. Then she smiled, actually finding it funny.

"You think we talk just because we live together?" She said, which made all the other girls laugh, including Clem.

"I didn't even learn the guy's last name until like, a month ago," Tara laughed, sipping whatever was in her plastic cup.

"Yeah, what – is his last name, anyway?" Beth asked, posing it as a joke while also seeking an actual answer. She didn't really care… but a small part of her did. She told herself it was merely curiosity.

Tara laughed louder and Rosita chuckled, then answered, "It's Dixon – if you couldn't already tell he's from the south."

"Yeah, well we can all tell you're from Texas after you've had a few drinks," Enid joked.

Rosita blushed and glanced to Austin, who was listening and laughing with his arm around her.

The girls continued like this for a while, sharing jokes and poking fun at each other while they laughed between drinks and snacks. Beth mostly listened, grateful that Austin was there to make her seem less out-of-place for being so quiet.

They stood in the kitchen and talked for well over an hour before Tara insisted that Rosita take at least one birthday shot, which turned into three shots, and then she was making mixed drinks and handing them out. Beth refused once again, as did Clem, while Austin, Rosita, and even Enid accepted, although cautiously. Beth saw the way Enid winced after taking a small sip from her cup, and she barely touched it after that. Then Rosita suggested they gather around the table she'd set up to play a game of Cards Against Humanity.

"Do you have the expansions?" Clem asked as they all walked over to the table and took seats.

"All of them," Rosita answered with a grin, pulling out the large box that held the card game and setting it in the middle of the table.

"Yes!" Tara exclaimed, well past tipsy by this point and easily excited about most things.

The card game proved to be the perfect icebreaker for any remaining tension between Beth – or Rosie – and her new friends. It was easy for this particular card game to get controversial and dark, and for a while, Beth treaded lightly. She kept her comments to herself and chose to observe and listen instead.

But then, as the game went on and Rosita and Tara ingested a few more drinks, the group grew more comfortable together. Before long, the small party had turned into a group of close friends giving each other a hard time and cracking jokes until they were all crying with laughter. Beth started letting down her wall and opening up a bit more, adding her own small quips when she saw an opening. Tara seemed surprised but delighted, and not long after, Austin seemed to follow her lead and begin talking more. He ended up making Rosita laugh so hard, she nearly spit her drink out her nose.

Beth found herself laughing and thinking of nothing else except how happy and carefree she was in the moment.

The sky darkened outside and the sun slowly sunk behind the horizon. Tara paused the game to answer a phone call and then announce to the party that Denise was on her way. Rosita took the opportunity to jump from her seat and head to her bedroom to grab something, and while Austin and the other girls talked amongst each other or checked their phones, Beth slipped away to the bathroom.

After she relieved herself and washed her hands, the silence in the small bathroom a startling difference to the noise she'd been surrounded by for the last few hours, she remembered her own phone and all the problems she hadn't bothered to worry about since she'd woken up. The nausea had kept itself at bay and she'd found Enid's guacamole to be delicious and filling, but the dread grew inside her as she pulled out her phone and rested her lower back against the edge of the counter to stare down at the screen.

She checked for notifications and found a new text message that she'd received around 6:30. She looked at the number and found it familiar, but couldn't remember why. Then, she read the message:

If you need a ride home, let me know. –D

It instantly clicked in her mind that the number was the same one she'd read on the note Daryl had left for her days ago. She had never bothered to save his number, but now she clicked Add To Contacts and created a spot for Daryl. When she scrolled to the line for a last name, she typed in: Dixon. It surprised her that he had sent her a text, as she hadn't expected him to even notice the small note she'd left on the fridge.

But somehow, it eased the dread inside her for just a few moments when she read the text.

She moved on to checking the news sites, starting with the national news. She could hear Tara's loud, drunken voice from the living room, and Clem and Enid's quieter voices as well as a mixture of laughter from everyone.

She scrolled through the headlines and let out a breath of relief when she saw no mention of her family or herself. Then she moved to the Georgia news site. She read the second largest headline on the news' website, "Greene Family's Arraignments Set; Drug Lord Pleads Guilty; Daughter Still Missing And Dangerous."

The sounds outside the bathroom seemed to drift away and all she could see were the paragraphs of black text about her family's fate. Her hands were shaking so hard that she had to attempt to hold the phone steady with both of them as she read:

ATLANTA (5:48 PM): In a shocking update on the Greene Family drug bust, police are finally releasing information on the court proceedings of the complex case. With dozens of employees disguised as members of the congregation and farmhands, the District Attorney has their hands full as they attempt to prosecute each suspect accordingly.

The Greene Family's farm and church are still closed off to the public and under investigation as detectives continue their tireless efforts to piece together the puzzle left behind by Hershel Greene and his daughter, Maggie, and son-in-law, Glenn. Meanwhile, the youngest daughter, Beth Greene, is wanted by police for the murder of Detective Shane Walsh on the night of August 26th.

Although there have been thousands of tips reported, none have led officials any closer to locating the 18-year-old Greene. The public is warned to stay on the alert for Beth Greene, who is thought to be armed and dangerous.

Since their arrests on the night of August 26th, Hershel Greene, Maggie Greene-Rhee, Glenn Rhee, Arnold Greene, Otis Williams, and Patricia Williams have been sitting in police custody, awaiting their first appearances before a judge and answering the many questions police had. After days of interrogation, officials came to the conclusion that none of them had any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Beth Greene, but they were all fit for prosecution.

The dozens of employees who worked for Hershel Greene have faced similar treatment, though they are expecting lesser charges based on their levels of involvement in the Greene's mass production and distribution of meth. The District Attorney turned down WSAV when they were contacted for comments on the abnormally large amount of suspects being prosecuted on the same case.

On Tuesday, August 29th, the Greene Family each had their own separate first appearances in Superior Court before a judge. The lesser involved employees and members of the congregation were given first appearances throughout the week. Officials have refused to release details, but signs show that most, if not all, of the suspects were found credible and were offered differing plea deals based on the information and evidence they could provide to detectives and how useful it would be in prosecuting the Greene Family.

Interestingly enough, Hershel Greene, the alleged head of the criminal organization, had his preliminary hearing on Tuesday, September 5th, where he officially pled guilty and waived his right to have counsel. No doubt taking his old age into consideration, the D.A. agreed to order a fast track sentencing. The exact date for the patriarch Greene's sentencing has not been released.

Some of the charges the family is facing include aggravated meth trafficking, unlawful possession of firearms, fleeing police, racketeering and conspiracy to commit, assault on a police officer, attempted murder of a police officer, possession of drug paraphernalia, manufacturing, distribution, and possession of a Schedule II drug with intent to distribute (resulting in death or serious bodily harm), employing or using a person(s) under the age of 18 in a drug operation, as well as multiple charges involving a Continued Criminal Enterprise – all felonies.

According to Georgia's law, Hershel Greene could be facing multiple life sentences.

Maggie Greene-Rhee and her husband, Glenn Rhee, have chosen to employ the use of one of the few assets they have remaining: the family lawyer. The young couple also had preliminary hearings on September 5th and are expected to enter pleas of not guilty. Anonymous sources close to the case have revealed exclusively to WSAV that they believe the Greene children will attempt to claim coercion as their defense, considering the level of influence Hershel Greene held over them, as well as their particularly young ages and high levels of involvement. Some officials close to the case believe they may be looking to consult social workers and child psychologists before taking the prosecution any further.

The case isn't expected to see a court room, or a jury, for several months while the D.A. builds their case and police continue their search for Beth Greene.

All of the suspects in the Greene Family case who have already had first appearances are scheduled for arraignments on September 12th. Bail has not been set for any of the suspects due to flight risk and the mysterious circumstances surrounding Beth Greene's disappearance. When asked about the death of James Cline and his involvement with the outcome of the trial, officials refused to comment.

Stay tuned. WSAV will continue to update this story as the case moves forward. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Beth Greene, call the number listed below.

Beth read the article over and over and over. She wasn't sure if she'd fully comprehended the part about her daddy – he waived his "right to counsel"? She blinked and shook her head, but she knew it was true. If he'd been prepared for his punishment the night he was arrested, then he probably didn't want to even fight. What was the point of an attorney when your charges were already a death sentence?

The long list of charges made her stomach churn and she had to set the phone down before she could even think about navigating to another news site to read the same horrible words. With her hands still shaking, she clicked over to the Atlanta local news and hesitantly skimmed through a very similar article with a very similar headline, finding all the same information – except for any mention of Jimmy. This news station didn't seem nearly as concerned with Jimmy's involvement or his death.

She decided she'd take the small blessings where she could find them.

She breathed a sigh of relief and reminded herself that there was still no mention of her or her family in the national news. She had been caught off-guard by this update on the court proceedings, but she couldn't say that she hadn't been expecting to hear about it eventually. The thing that had shocked her the most was finding out that her daddy had pretty much thrown his hands up and set his life down before the courts to do whatever they pleased with.

She knew that was what he wanted, though. He was a God-fearing man, and no matter what sort of moral lines he might've crossed, he would always bow his head and take his punishment in silence, because he knew that he deserved to atone for his crimes… But where did that leave Maggie and Beth?

Beth stepped away from the phone and tried to focus on her breathing, calming her racing heart and slowing her mind. She could still hear the girls talking and laughing outside, and all she'd wanted for the night was to sit in a room with other girls and just be normal for a few hours. She was determined to do just that.

She had run so far away for a reason, after all.

A knock on the bathroom door startled her from her thoughts and breathing exercises. Before she could respond, Rosita's voice was coming from the other side, and the doorknob was jiggling.

"Hey – you okay in there? I'm comin' in – unlock the door, I promise I won't look!"

Beth reached over and unlocked the door, then stepped away to make room for Rosita to enter the bathroom. Beth grabbed her phone and stuffed it back into her pocket before Rosita turned toward the counter, and she saw that the older brunette was holding something in her hand. She stumbled a bit as she entered the small bathroom – it was barely wide enough for the two of them to be inside at once, with the tub, toilet, and counter all squashed together in a small, square space to leave very little walking space between. Now that Beth was in a small space with her, she realized that she smelled like whatever fruity alcohol she'd been drinking.

"Sorry, I was about to come out – " Beth started.

But Rosita shook her head and stopped her, "No, it's cool – I just wanted to smoke from my pen for a minute and I didn't want the whole apartment to smell. And Tara can't smoke, so I don't wanna tempt her."

Then she put the thing she'd been holding in her hand – which looked like an E-cigarette – to her mouth and inhaled before pulling it away and pausing for a second, then exhaling a small cloud of smoke. Seconds later, the familiar smell hit Beth's nose, and she realized it was a vape pen for marijuana.

"Oh – I didn't know you did that," Beth said. But the smell wasn't reminding her of Jimmy or the farm this time as much as it was reminding her of Daryl.

Rosita shrugged, taking another hit before saying, "Not often, but I got one of these cool little pens a-a-and it's my birthday!"

She grinned and took a long, deep hit to end her statement. Beth smiled, and Rosita glanced over before an expression of realization crossed her face.

"Wanna hit?" She asked, holding out the pen in offering.

Beth looked down at it, about to say "no," but stopping herself. She thought of her daddy in prison, of Maggie in a courtroom, of Glenn sitting in an interrogation room, of Patricia and Otis sitting behind bars, of Jimmy hanging from a rope inside a jail cell.

And very last, she thought of the vivid dream she'd had that morning.

"Sure," she said, and took the pen from Rosita's hand.

---

It was August twenty-third – Beth's birthday. She was finally eighteen, a legal adult, and Maggie and their daddy had planned a small birthday party for her. But tensions were running high amongst the farm as the police presence grew heavier and heavier with each passing day.

Beth had woken up to her favorite breakfast cooked especially for her by Maggie. She'd also woken up to a heated argument between her daddy and Maggie that she'd walked in on, though the only thing she'd heard was that they'd already seen five different cop cars drive by since five a.m. When she asked what they'd been talking about and tried to get details, though, Maggie and Hershel avoided the question and changed the subject.

But Beth could see through their fake smiles and pretend excitement; she could hear the underlying worry in her daddy's voice when he said, "Happy birthday, sweetheart," and kissed her on the forehead, lingering longer than usual; she saw the pointed glances her sister kept making to Glenn, who was helping set up breakfast in ominous silence. She could feel the dread that hung over the entire house.

She was determined to have a good birthday, considering the year had been mostly shit, but found it to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. She had prayed to God the night before – just like she did every night – to keep her family safe and give them peace. But it seemed He was biding His time in responding.

She could only tell herself that things would get worse before they'd get better. It was always darkest just before sunrise, she tried to remember.

But it was hard to stay optimistic when she was also waking up to repetitive texts and missed calls from Jimmy. He'd been relentless in the last two weeks, and she'd been putting off what she knew had to be done. They'd talked a few times since August Eleventh, but she had come up with handfuls of excuses to push him off, and she couldn't bring herself to sneak out and see him face-to-face. He'd cried to her over the phone, and every conversation they'd had dissolved into an endless argument, despite his efforts to confess his undying love and remind her that they were soulmates. He continuously told her he was bettering himself, trying harder, looking into rehab and changing his life around to be "the man she deserved."

But she could always tell when he was high, and he hadn't been sober for even one of their conversations. He just kept repeating the same empty promises over and over.

She was feeling more and more lonely and isolated. She spent breakfast alternating between awkward small talk and silence with her daddy, Maggie, and Glenn. They put on smiles and wished her happy birthday, and even cleaned up her dishes when she was done. But she could see the unspoken words passing anxiously between them, and knew they were expecting something.

She helped with some chores around the farm, despite her daddy assuring her that she could do whatever she wanted for the day. She wanted to keep her mind busy and away from Jimmy, and without a journal to confide in, she didn't have many other options. But that only proved to work for a few hours before lunchtime arrived and she headed to join her family in the kitchen once again.

They were talking in hushed voices when she approached the doorway, and when she realized that one of the voices was her cousin, Arnold, she hung back so they wouldn't see her in the hall. She recognized Maggie's and Glenn's voices, as well.

" – they're getting a warrant."

"A warrant? For what? They don't have anything – "

"They're looking, though – and they might have somethin' we don't know about – "

"That's impossible. Dad's been workin' day an' night to make sure every loose end is tied up, there's no way – "

"You know they can find a way, you know we can't underestimate 'em – "

"Fine, but we can fuck it up by overestimatin', too, and givin' 'em exactly what they need without even – "

Then Beth recognized her daddy's stern voice, which silenced all the others.

"Hush. No more talk of this in the kitchen. It's Beth's birthday – we'll talk later in the study. For now, we're going to have a nice, family meal and make this a special day for her... Eighteen is a milestone."

But Maggie commented, her voice low, "Yeah, a milestone alright – now she's old enough t'be prosecuted..."

Beth turned around, unnoticed by her family, and walked away from the kitchen, going straight upstairs to her bedroom and locking herself inside.

When Maggie came by a short time later, she lied and said she had a migraine and wanted to lie down for a while. No one else knocked on her door until it was nearly time for her party to start.

She had texted Jimmy back but refused to call him on the phone. They'd exchanged messages for at least a couple of hours before Beth found herself breaking down and giving in to his pleas and arguments. The hopeless energy permeating the farmhouse was weighing her down, and she allowed him to convince her to hear him out.

If nothing else, she figured that she at least owed him a break up in person. They had been together for over a year, after all.

By the end of the afternoon, she'd agreed – against her better judgment – to meet up with him the next evening. He promised to show up sober, but she didn't have her hopes very high. In fact, she was anticipating a conversation in which she'd tell him exactly how and why he was wrong for what he did to her and that he needed to get help, and then she would end their relationship indefinitely. She had no idea how he'd react, but she knew it wouldn't be good. She also knew she'd have to be prepared to leave quickly before he lashed out… or to defend herself.

When it came time for her birthday party – which was really just a small family gathering – Beth emerged from her bedroom to meet her daddy in the hall, where he kissed her on the forehead and led her downstairs. In the kitchen, they had turned off the lights while Maggie stood at the table with a cake, waiting for Beth. The eighteen lit candles atop the cake were the only light in the room, and Beth approached it carefully while Hershel, Glenn, Arnold, Patricia, Otis, and a couple of other close family friends from the congregation stood aside and watched while singing "Happy Birthday."

She closed her eyes and blew out the candles, silently wishing for the "family business" to finally come to an end – just like she'd wished the year before.

Everyone in the room clapped and finished the song, and Beth thought she caught a glimpse of a genuine smile on her big sister's face when she opened her eyes and looked up at her.

After they turned the lights back on and served out pieces of cake to everyone, Maggie presented her little sister with her birthday gift: a brand new guitar. Beth felt nothing else but happy for a few solid minutes while she held the instrument in her hands. However, it didn't take long for her to remember that her momma still wasn't there to listen to her play, and then the happiness quickly faded.

Her daddy gave a small speech as he stood before the group, most of them working on their pieces of cake. Beth's fingers fidgeted with the strings of her new guitar, itching to take it upstairs and play it. But they slowed as she listened to her father talk, his blue eyes set on her.

"Beth, you came into this world at exactly ten-fifty-eight on this night, eighteen years ago... I remember the delivery room, I remember how your mother looked, an' I remember how I felt when I first looked at you – I remember because I'm reminded every day… You have so much of your momma in you, and every day, I feel that same swell of pride and joy and love when I look at you... You're an adult now, but… you'll always be my baby girl."

He stepped closer and she smiled. Small pools formed in the corners of his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead again, then put his arm around her shoulders.

"And if your momma were here right now, she'd tell you all the same things. I love you, Bethy. Happy birthday," he finished.

Maggie walked closer and leaned in to give her sister a small hug, whispering, "Happy birthday, Beth… I love you."

After the party, Beth retreated to her bedroom and played her new guitar for a while. Once she was sure that most of the guests had gone home, she quietly snuck out into the hall and tiptoed to the door of her father's study.

She could hear muffled voices coming from inside, growing louder and more heated every minute. She hesitated in the hall, but then leaned closer and closer, straining her ears. Then she was pressing one ear against the door, trying desperately to make out what was being said inside the study.

But she couldn't interpret anything – even though she'd been able to eavesdrop outside of every other door in the old farmhouse. For all she knew, her daddy could have put something inside or against the walls and door of the study to muffle all the sounds from inside. Either way, all she could hear was Hershel's, Maggie's, Glenn's, and Arnold's voices arguing with each other. The words, however, were anyone's guess.

By the end of the night, she'd decided that she was probably better off not knowing what they were talking about anyway. Beth told herself that she didn't need any more bad news on her birthday. Maggie would've said it made for one less testimony in court.

---

Beth only took a few hits from Rosita's vape pen, but she could tell the difference not long after. They sat in the bathroom, in silence, and passed the pen back and forth. Rosita seemed restless and sat atop the counter, watching Beth as though she wasn't sure what to talk to her about – or what to talk to her about first.

When she passed the pen to Beth a fourth time and Beth took it, Rosita finally asked, "So are you gonna stay?"

Beth was confused, noticing the slight slur to Rosita's words and wondering just how drunk she actually was. She gave Rosita a quizzical look. "Uh – what?"

Rosita raised her eyebrows as though Beth should know exactly what she was talking about. "Are you gonna stay? Here, in the city?"

Beth blinked, holding the pen in her hand and continuing to look confused. "Well… what d'you mean?"

Rosita rolled her eyes as though she were tired of Beth playing dumb and explained, "Carol told me about your ex – why you came here. And why you suddenly have different colored eyes. Don't worry – your cover's safe with us. I'm just wondering if you plan on stickin' around."

Beth felt the blood rushing to her face and she looked away. "Oh – yeah. Um, I guess so." She took a longer, deeper hit from the pen, letting the smoke settle in her lungs before she let her breath out.

Rosita shrugged, reaching out and taking the pen for her turn. "Well, I know Carol can be kinda intimidating, but I promise – we really do like you. So… you don't have to leave if you don't want to."

Beth looked up and met Rosita's eyes again. She knew this was the kind of drunken honesty that you couldn't fake. But she still felt wary, and she'd probably never be able to explain why.

"Thanks," she gave Rosita a small smile and Rosita returned it.

"I had a dickhead ex, too," Rosita said as she rolled the pen between her fingers absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, Carol mentioned somethin' like that," Beth said quietly.

Rosita didn't seem bothered by this, because she went on to explain, "He put me in the hospital and my stupid ass went back to him. He did it again and I finally learned that some people never change."

Beth didn't say anything, but Rosita's words were striking a nerve. She looked up and into the other woman's bloodshot, brown eyes and saw the solemnity that had been underlying her voice.

"But I'm not gonna let some loser piece of shit like that scare me away from living my life," she continued as her mouth slowly formed a smile. "Comin' here was the best thing I ever did. And these are some of the best people I've ever met… I think it could be like that for you, too – if ya wanted."

Beth shrugged, but her mind was wandering – probably from the weed – and she was thinking about everything in Georgia and everything in New York City all at once. Then she had to remind herself that she wasn't actually abused, and she hoped the other girls wouldn't suddenly flock to her and start treating her like another "abuse survivor." It would only make her feel worse in the end after everything she'd done to contribute to her own shitty situation.

"Y'know – I, um, it wasn't all so black and white, ya know?" Beth started, her mouth moving on its own before she'd consciously decided to let the words come out. "I mean… I did my part, too. I did… lots of bad things. It wasn't all just, like… abuse. I mean, I didn't have a bad life, and – well, we loved each other a lot. Things just got… really complicated."

She couldn't seem to put what she was thinking into a fully-formed and comprehensive sentence, but she looked up and checked Rosita's expression to see if she'd gotten the gist anyway. Rosita was looking at her with an expression that resembled pity – or empathy. Beth couldn't quite tell the difference between the two at the moment.

"The shitty part is: I said the exact same thing, and so did every other chick at the support group meetings," Rosita stated matter-of-factly.

Before Beth could argue, there was a knock on the bathroom door and this time, it was Tara's loud voice on the other side.

"What're y'doing in there?! Denise's here!"

Rosita laughed, any thought of what they'd just been discussing gone, and her eyes lit up as she hopped off the counter and gestured for Beth to follow her back out to the living room.

They left the bathroom and headed out to the kitchen, where Tara was standing with a woman Beth had never seen before. She was a heavyset woman with dirty blonde hair, glasses, and a round face, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and away from her hazel eyes. She smiled at Beth kindly.

"Rosie, this is Denise," Tara introduced them as Beth reached out and shook the blonde woman's hand. Tara leaned in and gave Denise a proud peck on the cheek, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Nice to meet you, Rosie," Denise said, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend. "See, this is why I don't let her drink on weeknights - she's always drunk before ten and then she wakes up hungover and grumpy."

Rosita laughed, as did Beth, while Tara proceeded to head to the fridge and make herself another drink, calling out on the way, "Yeah, and it's not ten yet and I'm not drunk yet!"

Denise retorted with a smile, "Okay, but we'll see how many times you complain about your headache in the morning."

"Are you guys coming back to play or not?!" Clem called from the table, where she, Enid, and Austin were still sitting with the cards laid out before them.

"Yes!" Tara yelled back. "Denise, you have to play with us!"

Denise shrugged. "Do I really have a choice? I already know we're not leaving for at least another hour."

"Okay, but – it's Rosita's birthday!" Tara laughed drunkenly. "Hey, Rosie, d'you want a drink yet?"

Beth was about to say no again, but changed her mind once more. She knew that as soon as she left this apartment tonight, she'd have to face nothing but thoughts about her family's misery – so why not enjoy the next couple of hours while she could? It's not like she hadn't earned it.

"Sure," Beth answered, getting a surprised look from Rosita. "Surprise me!"

"Oh, you don't need to tell her that," Denise said with a playful smile.

Beth laughed, and it wasn't forced or fake or polite. When Tara presented her with a concoction, she tasted it and found it to be surprisingly delicious. Her stomach didn't even object. Her head was light and she already felt more relaxed, so she sipped on the drink slowly, still unsure of its potency.

The group rejoined Enid, Clem, and Austin at the table in the living room to continue their card game. Denise brought a chair from the kitchen to squeeze in next to Tara and joined the game, though she refrained from drinking. As the game went on and more alcohol was ingested, the group of friends grew louder and more rambunctious.

Beth had a couple more drinks and was just barely buzzed, but she continued to keep to herself and listen more than she spoke. She and Denise had a few short conversations during times when the others were distracted, and Beth soon learned that Tara's girlfriend was a psychiatrist who had a twin brother that lived in New Jersey. A few times, the two women tried to include Austin in their little conversations, too, since he was also sober and sitting nearby, but he seemed more content with watching Rosita and pulling her in close to him every chance he got. He did mention, at one point, that he was a bartender, but Beth had already figured out that he wasn't any sort of authority just from casually observing him.

By the time Beth was on her fourth drink, she felt like she was floating and none of her problems mattered – at least not for the time being. She found herself joking with the other girls and she noticed the surprised looks in Enid's and Clem's eyes, but she didn't care for the time being. Tara finally reached the point where she promised Denise she was on her last drink so they could leave once she'd finished it.

They had just played their last cards and ended the game when Enid asked Rosita, "Oh, before I forget – d'you have those shoes you said I could borrow?"

Beth sipped on the last half of her final drink, deciding she'd better cut herself off before she began stumbling and slurring her words. She watched, half-interested, as Rosita stepped away from the table and went to one of the doors across the room. But Beth looked away and went back to gazing around the table and listening to the others' conversations.

"Oh – you play guitar?!" Enid's voice carried across the room and Beth turned her head at the mention of the word.

She watched Rosita pull an old acoustic guitar out of the closet she'd been digging around in. Enid took it carefully, examining it. Impulsively, Beth stood up and walked over to join them.

"You play?" She asked, looking to Rosita for an answer.

Rosita chuckled. "Oh, no. It was my ex's, I just never got rid of it 'cause I thought I might learn someday. It's probably way outta tune."

Enid held the guitar out for Beth to inspect and she leaned in closer, then reached her hands out to take it carefully. She began checking the strings and the neck of the guitar, gently rotating the tuning machines.

"So did you learn how to play?" Enid asked.

Rosita scoffed and laughed. "No, I said I thought I might learn. So of course I just shoved it in a closet and forgot about it."

Enid laughed aloud at that, but Beth had stopped paying attention. She'd found the nearest chair and sat down, resting the guitar in her lap while she focused on tuning it, plucking the strings repetitively until she got the sound she wanted from each one.

"Do you play?" Enid asked when she finally turned away from Rosita and noticed Beth tuning the guitar.

Beth nodded but didn't look up, still focused on the instrument.

"Oh, cool," Rosita commented.

"You should play something," Enid said.

Beth was still staring down at the guitar, but she felt herself blushing, and not just because of the alcohol in her system. She shrugged as she finished tuning the guitar and finally looked up.

"D'you know any songs?" Rosita asked with drunken enthusiasm.

"Kinda… I haven't played in weeks," Beth mumbled, running her fingers over the strings and reminiscing on the brand new guitar that she'd left behind on the farm. It didn't hurt as much to think about after a few drinks, but the pain was still a dull throbbing. The piano at Carol's had only worked to satiate her need of music for a short time.

"I'll turn off the speaker, then you can play something," Enid urged, rushing off to the speaker in front of the TV to turn it off for the moment.

Beth wasn't really paying attention, though, because she'd already set the guitar up on her lap and placed her fingers over the familiar frets to begin strumming. With the mixture of vodka and whatever else had been in her drink floating through her body and loosening her inhibitions, she'd started playing the first thing that came to mind that seemed fun at the time, without any thought towards Rosita or Enid watching her, or anyone else who would hear her from across the room. The muscle memory in her fingers and hands did the rest of the work, and before long, she was in her own world as she created beautiful sounds with her own hands and her own voice.

She wasn't sure why the song had flowed out of her, but her fingers seemed to move on their own as she played the familiar tune, and her heart fluttered when she heard herself singing again. "Hey there, Delilah, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty, yes you do… Times Square can't shine as bright as you, I swear it's true…"

Beth was halfway through the song before she lifted her eyes from the ground, where she'd been staring while she was zoned out and focused on the music. She quickly realized that the apartment had grown quiet except for her cover of "Hey There Delilah," and Rosita and Enid weren't the only ones watching her play. Still sitting at the table, Denise, Tara, and Clem were watching as well, and Austin had come over to join Rosita, his hands on her waist as he stood behind her and watched Beth play.

Her cheeks grew hot and she looked down again to finish the song, finding it far more enjoyable when she wasn't looking into the faces of all the people who were watching her play. She hadn't played music in front of other people since her days at church, but she had already known all those people and she didn't care what they thought of her. This, however, was different, because she actually cared what they would think of her – specifically that they wouldn't find her suspicious, but she was enjoying having friends, too, and hoped it would continue. She remembered how Daryl had reacted when he'd secretly watched her play a song, though, and it reassured her.

She imagined she was alone again, and that it was just him standing in the corner, silently watching her.

"…Oh, it's what you do to me… what you do to me, ohh, oh-h-h…"

When she strummed the final chord and rested her hands, she looked up to see that everyone was smiling, and within seconds, Enid and Rosita were clapping excitedly, and then the others joined. Tara gave a playful cheer from her seat next to Denise.

"Wow, we actually have a friend with a real talent in the group now!" Tara said loudly, and the others laughed.

Beth's face was bright red now, and she set the guitar down and laughed sheepishly before going back to her seat at the table for another sip of her drink. She felt like she needed another confidence boost after being the center of attention for much longer than she preferred. But it only took a couple of minutes before everyone had moved on to talking about something else, and Beth was back to sitting comfortably unnoticed.

A few minutes later, Rosita came back to the table with Austin and sat down, leaning over to talk to Beth.

"Hey, you can have that guitar if you want it," she said casually. "It's not like I'll ever learn how to play it."

Beth furrowed her brows. "What? No way, it's yours. You're not supposed to give me stuff on your birthday."

Rosita laughed and shook her head. "No, really – you'd be doing me a favor. I don't even wanna waste the time to take it somewhere and sell it, or post an ad for it, so just take it home. Otherwise, it's goin' right back in that closet."

Beth shrugged and felt her cheeks heating up once again. "Well… I mean, I guess if you really don't want it. You sure you don't want like, some money or somethin'?"

Rosita shook her head again. "No, dude, take it. Don't even worry about it. You'll get a lot more joy out of it than I ever could."

Beth smiled and relaxed – maybe Rosita was more like-minded to herself than she'd originally thought. "Thanks… That's really nice of you. I, uh… I had a guitar back home. Couldn't really bring it with me, though."

Rosita gave her a knowing smile. "I figured."

---

The party had wrapped up not long after eleven. Austin and Rosita grew more and more touchy and handsy until it became clear to everyone that Rosita had had just the right amount of alcohol for the night and it was time for them all to give her some privacy.

Tara insisted on giving Clem and Enid a ride home to ensure their safe arrival, and then offered the same to Beth. They all took her up on the offer and Denise was just relieved to learn that they all lived within a short distance of each other.

When Tara informed her that Beth lived with Daryl, Denise seemed surprised.

"Oh, Daryl? Dixon? Really?" She said, pulling out into the street once they were all buckled in and ready to leave.

"Yeah, what other Daryl do we know?" Tara laughed.

Denise shrugged. "I dunno. It just surprises me. I mean, I've only talked to him a handful of times, but from a psychiatrist's point of view – "

Tara laughed harder, interrupting her, "Oh, please, don't even start with that shrink shit."

Denise started laughing now, then calmed and spoke more seriously, "No, but in all honesty, he's a good guy. Reminds me of my brother. He's just… tough… I think he's covering up some serious trauma. But what do I know, no one pays me to analyze him so I'm just guessing."

Beth decided to remain silent and enjoy the pleasant numbness in her head and body that the mixed drinks had caused for the duration of the ride home.

The hall between Daryl's and Carol's apartments was eerily silent when Beth finally reached the top floor landing, panting from climbing three flights of stairs with a guitar in hand. 3B looked to be dark and Beth figured Carol and Sophia were already in bed for the night. 3A appeared to be dark as well, so she pulled out the key and unlocked the door as quietly as she could to step inside carefully while she tried not to make any noise.

But the apartment wasn't as dark or as quiet as it had appeared from the outside. When she entered, prepared to shut the door quietly and tiptoe across the floor, she found instead that the TV was on in the living room, although all the lights were off except for the stove light in the kitchen. She could see the back of Daryl's shadowed figure as he sat on the couch and watched TV.

He turned around to see her when he heard the noise and gave a nod of acknowledgment, which she returned. She shut and locked the door and headed straight for her bedroom to put away the guitar and stuff all her things – gun, photo, bag full of money – back into their safe spots. Then she stripped off her clothes, including the undershirt, and changed into pajamas before plopping down on the bed with her phone.

She began scrolling through the national news sites in another tireless effort to keep on top of her family's publicity. Thankfully, she didn't find anything new, national or otherwise. She switched to checking her email, and then her texts, more as a way to keep her hands busy than anything.

Her eyes skimmed over the text she'd received from Daryl earlier that night, which she'd completely forgotten about. Now she felt bad for not replying and taking a ride from Denise without even letting him know. She wondered for a second if he had waited up to make sure she got home safely, or if her drunken mind was creating guilt where there was no guilt to be found.

Beth glanced over at the guitar, which she'd sat in the corner of the room, and thought about how she'd have to look into getting a case for it. She found some genuine happiness in owning a guitar again. Just knowing that she had the option of the escape of music was therapeutic in itself and helped to ease her mind and nerves.

It also made her feel nice to know that she'd met new people who didn't know a thing about her yet already seemed to like her for who she was. She wasn't trying to get attached and start planting some sort of roots in this city, especially when she'd be fleeing within the year, but she was pretty sure that having normal, human contact every now and then was one of the only things keeping her sane for the time being. If it weren't for Daryl and the girls he'd introduced her to through his class, she'd probably be going stir crazy right now and starving herself with paranoia and guilt.

There was a knock at her bedroom door and she jumped, having been lost in her own train of thought. She was puzzled because she thought Daryl had gone to bed already – she'd thought she heard him go down the hall a half-hour ago – but he must have just been going to the bathroom. She tossed her phone aside on the bed and got up to open the door, finding Daryl standing before her in his pajamas with the kitchen light turned on behind him.

"Sorry, you weren't sleepin', were you?" He asked quietly.

She shook her head. "No, I was just… readin'."

He nodded and continued, "I'm makin' a grilled cheese, you want one?"

Her stomach growled as soon as she pictured the grilled cheese, and she figured she'd probably better eat something besides chips and cupcakes after having several drinks. Especially after the morning she'd had and how it had affected her appetite. "Sure, that sounds good. Thanks."

Daryl nodded again and turned away to head into the kitchen and begin cooking. Beth felt like it'd be rude to hide away in her bedroom and eat, so she shut her door and went into the living room to sit on the couch and watch TV while Daryl prepared the sandwiches. She found that he'd been watching reruns of the zombie show again, and she didn't bother to change the channel.

A short time later, Daryl approached the couch with two plates and napkins in his hands. He held one out for Beth to take and she did, as well as the napkin, then he sat down next to her with his own.

"Thank you," Beth said, glancing at him and noticing that he'd been staring at her just a little longer than usual.

He nodded and grumbled out, "Welcome."

They began eating in silence while the zombie show continued on the TV at a low volume. After a few bites and another commercial break advertising the show they were watching, Beth commented, "Another marathon?"

"Mm-hmm," he grunted, taking another bite from his grilled cheese.

She didn't know if she was imagining things because of the mixture of weed and alcohol still fogging up her head or if she was actually feeling Daryl's eyes on her every couple of minutes. She tried to check from her peripherals but she couldn't quite tell where his eyes were looking because of his hair. She finished her sandwich in silence anyway, and when he finished his shortly after, she reached out to take his dirty plate and napkin to the kitchen along with her own.

"Thanks," he mumbled as she slipped past him and took the plates to the sink.

"Y'make a mean grilled cheese," she joked, and he chuckled quietly in response but didn't say anything.

Beth returned to her seat on the couch and sunk back into the cushion with her stomach satisfied, tucking her legs beneath her. She still wasn't quite sleepy, but she was getting interested in the TV show and was eager to grab at something that would keep her mind busy.

Daryl seemed pretty relaxed, too, and as they sat, she continued getting that feeling she'd been getting while they were eating – like he was glancing over at her every few minutes. She told herself she was just being paranoid.

But it didn't take more than one commercial break spent in silence before he was starting a conversation, to Beth's surprise.

"How was Rosita's?" He asked. He'd started chewing on his thumb thoughtfully just a few seconds before he'd spoken, and continued to do so as he watched her for her response.

She turned to face him and smiled, "It was fun. Did you know it was her birthday?"

He shrugged, then lowered his hand to rest in his lap with the other. "Didn't think she was the type t'wanna make a big deal out of it."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Well, you're right about that. She didn't. I think it was more of an excuse for 'em to get drunk in the middle of the week."

Daryl snickered and said, "Sounds about right. Tara's got a pretty busy work schedule, s'pose she's tryin' t'get lit every chance she has. Know I would with that kinda stress."

Beth nodded knowingly. She found it interesting how Daryl seemed to understand the other girls even though he didn't talk to them much. Or maybe he just related to people wherever he could.

"Thanks, by the way – for the text earlier," she said, suddenly remembering the small bout of guilt she'd felt before. "I forgot t'text back, but Denise an' Tara gave me a ride home."

He shrugged. "'S alright, jus' didn't want ya t'walk home in the dark. Where'd the guitar come from?"

Beth chuckled, remembering the guitar she'd mysteriously shown up with. "Oh yeah, hah – Rosita gave it to me. Um – well, I guess it was her ex's and she doesn't know how t'play and she didn't want it, so she kinda… insisted I take it."

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Huh. What'd ya do, put on a show for 'em?"

She stared into his eyes and hesitated for a second, unsure of how to interpret his tone. But then she saw the hint of a playful smirk forming on his lips and she replied, "They demanded t'hear me play. You can't say no to the birthday girl."

He laughed quietly and the sound caused a flutter in her stomach that quickly sprouted outwards and all through her limbs. But she attributed it to the alcohol that was still in her system, and the high that was slowly wearing off, as well as the good mood that the party had left her in – despite the small parts that could've ruined her entire night.

"So ya got a date tomorrow, I heard," Beth said, still smiling faintly. She tried to turn the attention away from herself, afraid of how red her face might get tonight.

Daryl's smile faded and he looked down at his hands, where he was picking his nails absent-mindedly. He sounded apathetic when he responded, "Yeah, I guess. Can't say I ever really did the date thing so… I'unno."

Beth shrugged but tried to remain uplifting. "No different than hangin' out, it's just got a title. You already met her, right?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Friend o' Carol's… Uh, blind date."

She smirked. "Wow, how adventurous of you. I can't wait t'meet her."

He scoffed. "If y'all meet her. 'S just a date. I ain't gettin' my hopes up."

Beth tilted her head and continued staring at him, raising her eyebrows. "Well, with that attitude, it probably won't be enjoyable for either of you."

Daryl finally cracked a smile and she returned it, but he quickly glanced down and away from her eyes. "Nah, it's not like I'm gonna be a dick to her or nothin'. I just know how people can be. Never really went out lookin' fer a date or a girlfriend or whatever, an' there's a reason fer that – ain't many good people left."

Beth's smile faded. "Well that ain't necessarily true…"

He shrugged and continued softly, "Maybe fer somebody yer age, but the ones who're interested in a single dad in his thirties are kinda limited... Ain't sayin' I'm some sorta catch neither, it's jus' fer the boy's sake."

She tilted her head curiously and he seemed to find assurance in the gesture.

"Never actually dated anybody anyway. Wasn't my thing. Never took it seriously – y'know, sex an' hookups an' all that. Might sound scummy, but sex was the only reason I ever bothered with any o'that in the first place. Till Mal's mom, o'course. But I can't be bringin' just anybody in here. Just ain't important t'me… Kid always comes first now."

He was gazing off toward the ground but Beth could see his mind working behind his dark hair and hooded eyes.

"Just 'cause the kid comes first doesn't mean y'have to put yourself last," Beth said quietly.

"Don't matter – ain't about me no more. Ain't got high hopes, but I ain't gonna ruin it neither," he muttered. "It'll mean somethin' to Carol, an' she volunteered t'have the kid stay the night, so I'll try it out… Think I owe her that much."

Beth nodded in understanding, letting the silence settle for a moment after he'd finished, waiting to see if he had more to say. He didn't look up, though, staring down at his hands as he continued to pick at his fingernails, almost nervously.

"Well, you can always leave," she said, trying to sound encouraging by suggesting her own solution for most problems. "If she sucks, I mean. You don't have t'spend a whole night with someone ya don't like."

He grunted, like a half-chuckle. "Yeah, I s'pose. Hope it don't come to that, though."

"I'm sure it won't," she said, remembering what the girls had been saying earlier at Rosita's house. "Carol's a pretty good judge of character, an' you trust her enough to go on a date with somebody you've never met. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't've agreed t'that just t'get a night to yourself."

He actually did chuckle this time, and lifted his head to look at her again. "Ya ain't wrong."

Beth gave him a small smile, then, in an attempt to make him laugh again, she playfully prodded, "Unless yer just scared an' don't wanna admit it…"

She kept the smile on her face to show him she was kidding but his face grew solemn and he stared back at her thoughtfully.

He didn't laugh or even smirk when he mumbled, "Huh… maybe."

Beth furrowed her brow and waited, but he appeared to be lost in thought for the moment. Her smile waned.

She asked quietly, "Maybe?"

He shrugged, his eyes focusing back in on hers and narrowing. "Ain't afraid like, maybe you'd be afraid. But there's always… somethin' about meetin' new people."

She blinked and spoke the first thing that came to mind, "Everybody's got somethin' to lose by trustin' somebody new."

He didn't break his intense gaze, his voice coming out barely louder than a whisper when he said, "Exactly."

She wasn't sure what exactly happened, but the fluttering had returned to her stomach, and she had to tear her eyes away from Daryl's. She couldn't explain it – a combination of the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes. She didn't think it was just the alcohol affecting her brain anymore.

And now it felt like there was something large and unspoken sitting between them – but it was something she couldn't name herself, nor could she willingly identify. It wasn't something she wanted to approach just yet either. She had a nagging suspicion that she was imagining things, or looking for comfort where there was none to be found.

But she also felt the palpable something that hung in the air between them, and she knew it wasn't just nothing – just like she knew she wasn't the only one who could sense it.

Then a familiar voice came from the end of the hall, calling out, "Dad…?!"

Beth's eyes darted toward the hall, as did Daryl's, but it quickly became clear that Malachi was still in his bed.

Daryl's sudden movement when he turned his head toward the hallway had caused his leg to bump the TV remote that was sitting on the cushion beside him, and it fell to the floor with a loud clattering that startled both of them.

Instinctively, Beth leaned down to pick it up from where it had landed directly in front of the couch, her arm stretching out and her hand snatching it up off the carpet before she sat straight up again. But when she lifted her head and sat back up, she found Daryl unexpectedly close because he had leaned down at the same time to retrieve the same remote.

He seemed to pause, though, remaining halfway leaned forward over the couch, and Beth found herself doing the same with the remote still held in her hand. Their eyes were locked once more, and Beth was so close that she could see his eyelashes, even in the dim lighting of the room.

She didn't know if she was imagining things or if his dark blue eyes were actually glancing at her lips.

She held her breath, sensing his body slowly moving in to fill the inches of space between them, intent clear on his face.

She froze. The only thought in her head was, Is he really…?

"Da-ad!"

Daryl whipped his head around to look toward the hall once more, and so did Beth as she simultaneously let out the breath she'd been holding. She quickly placed the remote back on the couch and stood up, grateful for the chance to back away and suddenly noticing the way her hands were slightly trembling.

"Probably wanna check on him," she muttered, feeling awkward for the first time since she'd been sitting on the couch with Daryl. Now she could really tell that the alcohol was wearing off.

Daryl coughed, although it sounded a bit forced to Beth, and stood up. He looked around briefly, seeming practically disoriented for a second, but then shook it off quickly and grunted his agreement before rushing off toward the bedroom.

As soon as he was heading down the hall, Beth took the opportunity to head for her bedroom, where she shut the door tightly behind her. She sat in the dark and listened as Daryl came back down the hall less than five minutes later, turned off the TV, and returned to his bedroom for the night.

Yet her hands wouldn't stop trembling for at least fifteen minutes after that.

to be continued…

---

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I struggled to finish it, even though I wrote it out of order. So if you catch any inconsistencies I might've missed or if you have any criticisms on any of the things depicted in this chapter, please let me know! And thank you to EVERYONE for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting!