I've been practicing my voluntary movements every day for a week now. It's taken horrible exertions of effort and energy, both mental and physical, but I've finally managed to stop the clawing and groaning. I'm not sure, but I think this has caught Rick's attention. I just have to keep it up. Yesterday, Carl came to feed me a rabbit, and I was so thankful. The rabbit was freshly killed, cleanly and quickly; not eaten alive. It had gone through no pain. The taste of its flesh was unusually fresh and clean, and I felt satisfied for a good ten minutes following my meal. Now, the greatest pain I'm suffering is my inability to thank Carl. He's been so good to me.

If I've overheard correctly, today is Glenn and Daryl's day to go for a run into town. This morning, Daryl was pacing around my cell. I presumed he was waiting for the boss to arrive- at least, I think Rick is the boss. It's almost like a dictator in my eyes. Whatever he says becomes a reality, lest the enemy be looking for a fight, and I know that Daryl is not happy with this. He's free- living on his own terms. He wasn't meant to be living in captivity being bossed around by some dead-beat police officer.

I've seen Rick Grimes for what he has truly become. Everyone has dealt with the end of the world in their own way, but some have obviously dealt better than others. Rick thinks the storm has passed in his mind, or, that's what I gather, for his conversations with the staircase seem to be completely coherent in his mind. His wife is standing before him; he calls her Lori. The few words he utters to his hallucination make me uneasy, though I can't exactly tell why. Maybe it's the irrational joy shining in his eyes, or his stance that exudes relaxation and contentment. These feelings should not exist in times like these. They're what will ultimately get you killed; believe me, I would know.

I can sense Rick nearby. He's muttering to himself as usual, but I don't think Daryl can hear him yet. The man is just pacing. Though it makes me feel like an apathetic monster, I can't help but enjoy the story that plays on Daryl's face; I can read him like an open book, like Holmes in one of those old Sherlock BBC episodes I was so much in love with. His eyes are dead; he never smiles, not even for a moment. He's experienced loss, so much heartbreak and betrayal. All the terrible suffering has lead to a hardening of the soul, a general wall of apathy built up to protect from the blows this world deals out every day. Perhaps he's witnessed the death of a loved one? Maybe a daughter or son, or brother or sister. Maybe he's watched his parents bleed to death at the hands of a monster- no, I think it was a brother. Now I can only wonder; was the monster one of my people? Or was it one of his fellow humans? In my opinion, there's less of a difference between us than most humans would probably like to think. I've seen men slaughter each other as brutally, as angrily as they would slaughter someone like me. There are so many of me to choose from. The fact that men these days choose to kill the living out of anger instead of the truly guilty: the dead, is completely baffling.

But I can't stay on the inside too long. Rick is here now- Listen. Focus.

Daryl's swinging his crossbow beside his knee; funny how it looks like he's always itching to find a target. He looks up darkly to meet Rick's eyes.

"You ready? Was waitin' for twenty damn minutes y'know. Now come on, Judith needs a hell of a lot more formula."

I would scoff if I could. Does Rick really need someone to tell him what his own daughter needs? That's some A+ parenting right there.

"I know what she needs," Rick retaliates. "I was taking care of something with Beth."

Beth. Daryl's weak spot, obviously.

"What did you want with her?" Daryl's voice takes on a slightly more hostile tone. I would feel protective too, if I were in his shoes. Rick barely ever talks to anyone anymore. If I were Daryl, I would think Beth is too far above Rick to be bothered by him.

"None of your business." Oh god, don't start this now, Rick.

"Says you, asshole. What did you want with her?" Yes, he's definitely angry now. Rick sighs, defeated. He doesn't look like he's up for a fight right now.

"Alright, alright, just forget it. We gotta go; we can talk later."

"You got the chain?"

Rick nods, holding up the metal length. It has a thick ring equipped with a hinge.

I see where this is going. To put it lightly, I am not happy about this. Sure, it's pretty smart to cover your scent with walkers nearby, but last time I saw someone use this method, the fate of the Walker was not pretty. I would really like to keep my hands and lower jaw and teeth; I had a tooth pulled once, and once was enough. I think I might die if they chop my hands off and destroy my face. I may not need them, but I'm so tired of all this pain.

I recede back to my corner of the cell as the lock is undone and the cell door slides away. I guess if there's one thing to be happy about, it's that I can keep myself from pouncing on them first chance I get.

Don't. Move.

I think I've managed to squeeze my eyes shut. When my vision returns, I can feel the intense constriction and chaffing of the metal ring around my throat. My hands are tied behind my back, tighter than I even thought possible. And, thank god, they have chosen to bind my jaw with rope and steel, instead of severing it all together. Soon enough, they're dragging me to my feet. As usual, I have nothing better to do than to listen, that is, after my initial fit of animalistic rage. They've ignored the thrashing flailing pretty well. Both men are staring ahead as they walk.

"Who in the hell ever decided this was a good idea," Daryl finally questioned. "She's only slowing us down, we shoulda' killed her ages ago."Rick doesn't respond. I can tell that Daryl is royally pissed off, but he gives up trying. These two never get anywhere. I'm glad they've decided to shut up. They had better stay quiet if they want to keep their heads attached; I can smell neighbors approaching. I think Daryl can sense it too, because he stops short, his grip tightening on my leash.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yup."

I want to scream at them to stop talking, and run. They're coming. Too many; stay here and the boys will be dead meat and I'll be alone again. No way.

I start another fit, this time of my own accord. I pull against the metal with all my might, trying to pull Daryl in the other direction. They have to run, I don't care if they drag me along the ground like a dead dog. I will not be alone again.

"Bitch, calm down!" Daryl's only getting angrier. I think it must be clouding his senses, because out of the corner of my eye, I see the enemy.

It's time for the freak-festival.

It's fortunate that I'm feeling particularly in control right now. I yank my chain as hard as I can, in the direction of the oncoming enemy. I look back to Daryl, and again to the walker now emerging from the shadows.

Daryl glances up briefly, but it's all we need. I watch as his instincts kick in, and he's running in the other direction, dragging me happily along behind. Rick follows in suit.

Rick runs past me to mutter something to Daryl. Now, they are looking back at me as we run, with the most bewildered expression I've seen. I do my best to blink, to breathe naturally, to utter a single syllable. I think I've got them.


I'm back! Thanks so much for reading! First off, I would like to apologize for such a late update, I've been lacking inspiration as of late, but my mojo's finally coming back ^_^ I hope you liked this chapter, I'm pretty excited about this story. As always, reviews are the best gifts in the universe; give me one and I will love you forever. I also highly appreciate a fav or some suggestions! See y'all soon!

~Sketchypheebs