Hello everyone! Guess whos back, back again tis I, Sam. With another chapter of this crap story *audience boos* oh well. My character sees Lizzy and Mika feeding the walkers and just assumes its what everyone here does, much to the concern of Hershel and Doctor S. Anyway, hope you enjoy, reviews don't hurt, stay awesome.

Carol showed me around and not wanting to impose on the group, I chose a cell on the second floor away from the others. Well far enough away so they wouldn't get suspicious.

I sat down on the mattress and sighed. This was the first bed I'd been on in a long time. For a second I thought back to home, me and my elder sister Charmaine, or Chaz as we called her all our lives. We had drawn, wrote and stuck things all over the bunk bed. If friends came around they would stare for a long time, trying to decipher the inside jokes.

I smiled. Chaz, I missed her. She was not only a sister but a best friend too. Was there when I went through my angst depressed teenager years. Drew me little things, I remember the picture she drew, of a terrible looking stickman in a car. As she explained through the page that life had its ups and downs, with a bumpy road that looked like a m. She didn't know but that had helped me a lot.

I looked down, in my hand I had my wallet. I had taken it out without realizing it while thinking of the past. I can't look. Getting distracted gets you killed. The mantra in my head had been engraved.

'But you're safe now' a voice in the back of my head whispered. I looked at the worse for wear wallet 'Cheyenne had bought me that' I mused. What harm could it do, it was just pictures. It was bad enough I was starting to forget what they looked like.

I opened the wallet and pulled out the small pictures in a side part. Dropping the wallet on the bed as I scurried up a bit against the wall. Pulling my knees to my chest. Taking in a shuddering breath I steeled myself before looking at them.

I was totally unprepared.

A picture of my older sister smiling back at me, dark hair tied back, no make-up on, trying to appear formal. The picture was a spare she had, from the copies of her passport picture. I studied the picture a bit more. Her blue-green eyes were light and happy, grin plastered over her face. Her teeth were a little crooked and I remember her going on about them to mum once. I smiled, thinking back.

Memories of me and her, watching the old video tapes for the millionth time. Singing along to Hairspray and The Land before Time songs. Disney movies, the lot. We shared the same interests in our later years too, animals, nature, anime, music, our love of the rain over the sun. Although we weren't born twins, we were practically the same. She was many years older than me, somewhere in her twenties, couldn't remember now, it had been too long.

I squashed the overwhelming emotion and flicked through the others. My brother, Jamie. Also older than me, I was the youngest child. He and I had our differences but more often than not, we were talking about space or other things we shared an interest in. laughing over the latest internet jokes.

I remember him being tall, with that tribal tattoo on his arm I often jokingly made fun of. He was an ass a lot but still my brother. And had helped me more times than I can count, one particular memory shined out. We were swimming and I was quite young, I climbed the ladder despite my fear and jumped off the diving board. Not expecting the water to be so deep. But it was. I had thrashed my way up, clawing for air, to reach the surface, but I was too far away. A moment of panic as I felt the need to breathe draw closer. When suddenly there was someone grabbing my arm, dragging me to the surface. I had never jumped off a diving board again.

I smiled, looking down at the picture, his short black hair often left grown out a bit. Always saying it looked like John Sheppard's from Stargate Atlantis. His green eyes hid a smile as he stared at the camera, straight faced. This was also a spare from a pack of four. And I had thankfully pocketed it and kept it.

Next was a picture of my mum, we often had our spats. Her telling me I didn't have anxiety, that I wasn't a 'scared retard' when my brother insisted I did. She was often hurtful but we got along. Her thinning brown hair the same shade as mine. Often said I'd look like her when I was older, 'god I hope not' I thought smiling.

I still remember crying my eyes out watching Brave, because Merida's situation was the same as mine. I hated my mum and she often took the fun out of everything, but if I lost her- I swallowed roughly. Well she's dead now.

She had brown eyes, a tired wrinkled face. She was smiling and trying to conceal her bags with make-up. Wearing jewellery, earrings, bracelets, rings, 'necklace of a cross' I thought bitterly. I was never religious growing up, realizing I was an atheist a few years ago, but the situation the world was in now just showed there was no god.

I had to stop and take a shuddering breath, trying my hardest to swallow down the lump in my throat. The next one would make me cry if I couldn't steel myself.

I brought the next picture forward, and tears pricked my eyes. I looked to the ceiling, desperate not to cry. I couldn't.

I couldn't help myself and looked down, my dad. My mate, my best friend. I was closest to him. We often shared inside jokes. He would play music deafeningly loud as we sang along horribly, couldn't sing for shit but still did. If I needed money he would give me it, needed picked up you bet he'd be there. Drove me to school, often drove me home. Took me to friends. He once drove an hour long drive through the snow in the countryside on Christmas Eve because I had stupidly forgotten to give Cheyenne her present. He was like that. Had saved my life more than once, when I was little, no older than six, I stupidly ate an entire packet of Hubba Bubba chewing gum and swallowed it whole. And choked, he was the one who saved me as I was going blue. Smacking my back, making me cough up the chewing gum and breathe, live to see another day. And other times too.

Knew almost everyone, loved Nickleback even though they were terrible. Got me great presents every year for Christmas while getting crap gifts from me because I had no money. Would lie to the school for me if I told him I was ill and couldn't go. Would pay my fee- and the families too. Everywhere we went. Cinema, restaurant, holiday, zoo, anywhere we went he was the funds. He was a great man. My Grandpa Sam had Alzheimer's and wandered off again, my nana phoned everyday about a problem and he would be the one to sort it out. His friend needed something he'd get it. A colleague who he didn't know would ask a favour, he'd do it. He worked at the school I went to, as a caretaker of the Astroturf at first, then an IT technician. Often looking after the whole building. There from 7AM until 11PM every day.

And to top it off he had a never-ending list of medical problem. Something wrong with his back, take something, but that has side effects so he needs something for that, and something for that. Never ending. His hands were rough and more often than not cut open after working outside in the garden. He was overweight but if you were to punch him you would find his stomach felt like steel. So many medical problems, so overworked, looking after everyone. And I knew I was a burden. Asking for money, or a lift, or something else. But that was the type of person he was. He was my best friend and I only hope he knew how much I love him, how much he meant to me.

My eyes were welled up with tears and some were already rolling down my face. That was when the dam burst. Unable to see I shut my eyes, dropping the pictures and sobbing into the pillow on my bed. I missed them so much.

Behind that, another picture, of my best friends, Cheyenne and Keira. A selfie we had taken together making stupid faces. Cheyenne with her red dyed hair, and ice blue eyes that always stood out to me. The only eyes I'd ever seen so light and intense. I'd often find myself staring at them in school, my eyes were a boring muddy brown, and everyone I knew had dull eyes. But Cheyenne. Her eyes concealed a storm.

She often wore a little make up to conceal small things like spots. She was like my twin, her personality was the exact same as mine, we liked the same stuff, same music, same shows. Yet at the same time we were opposites. She had light hair, I had dark, she liked red, and I liked blue. She would often be sarcastic and brush people off. But if there was something wrong or you were upset her attitude changed immediately to concern. She had helped me through a lot. I only hope she knew how much she meant to me.

My eyes then flickered to my other friend Keira. She was small and petite, with extremely long brown curly hair. We often joked she was Rapunzel. She wore a lot makeup, covering up her freckles. She had blue/green eyes that were constantly switching between the two. It was hard to give them a specific colour. She had a personality that was sunshine personified and in memory was always smiling.

My body shuddered with every breath as I poured my heart into the pillow as quiet as I could. Why? Why was I the only one to survive? It wasn't fair! I missed my family, my friends. Everything the world was. It was like it had been ripped away from me. Leaving me alone and cold.

I sat with tears streaming down my face silently for a while. Who knows how long? All I do know is that my family is dead and my friends probably are too.

Eventually my breathing calmed and tears didn't come. I sat up, glancing at the pictures before stuffing them into the wallet again. Putting my wallet away I sighed. Bunching my hands into my hair as I sat, knees to my chest. Mind on the past and not on this fucked up reality.

Once I was sure I didn't look like I had been crying I composed myself and wandered out my cell. Heading for the grassy area outside. Keeping my head down I walked down the metal stairs. Every loud clang making me cringe. People were probably staring at me. I made my way to the entrance and pushed outside. Breathing in the cool evening air. The sun had just went down, the remnants of the dying light along with it.

Walking up the grassy bank I sat, looking up to the sky. Oh how you don't appreciate the things you have while you have them. I used to spend every day sitting at home on my laptop, wasting my life away. Never sparing a glance to the outside world. But now I had nothing but time to spend.

I broke out of my reminiscences when someone walked outside. I sat, confused as I watched two little girls heading towards the fence with a box. Neither of them knew I was there. I sat confused, watching the two figures get smaller in the fading light. Before they stopped next to a particularly packed part of the fence with over a dozen undead piled up against the fence.

My breathing stopped as the zombies got riled up with food so close to them. I watched with bated breath as the younger one opened the box and the bigger one pulled something out. What was that? I got up and crept closer, silently. Watching from behind a part of the watch tower, as the bigger girl picked up…mice? From the box before-

My eyes widened as she put the rodent near the zombies, dangling it from the tail. Not only was this cruel it was messed up. Feeding the zombies?

The small rodent squealed loudly, wriggling, trying to get out of the girls hold. Before silence. A zombie had bitten the poor thing, tearing it apart. She laughed and encouraged the zombie as I stood there feeling sick. She was treating them like pets. I watched in horror as she reached back into the box, pulling out another mouse.

I couldn't watch anymore and turned away. Is this the people I was living with? Did they all do this? Feed these zombies? If so I would not be staying.

Eventually the two little girls left, and I had heard enough of the animals screeching to know how they had suffered. I leaned against the watch tower wall and slid to the ground. Feeling sick to my stomach. But I couldn't be sick. No that's just my luck. Before this apocalypse I had this-this fear of being sick. A fear of being unable to breathe.

I clenched my eyes shut as my deafening heart beat drowned out my thoughts. My hands clutching at the gravel below me. I took in a shuddering gasp. The feeling of overall un-wellness taking over me. I felt beads of sweat form on my forehead but I refused to be sick.

I sat like that for a long time, my heartbeat drowning out the moans of the undead. Eventually the sun peaked over the horizon and when the warmth touched my skin I felt drained, still a little ill but mostly drained. This had happened to me a lot. Staying awake all night even though we were going somewhere the next day. Get in the car, and the second the sun touched me, feeling drained and tired and groggy.

The heat of the sun compelled me to close my eyes for a little while and eventually I must have dozed off.

Next thing I know I'm being hit by something. I opened my eyes, disorientated, tired, groggy and uncomfortable from spending the night outside on the gravel. I looked up, the sun blinding me for a second, before seeing Hershel standing over me, gripping his clutches, his face showing concern.

"How long have you been out here" his southern accent was soothing to my ears and his overall presence made me relax a bit.

I thought back to what I had witnessed the night before, a frown crossing my features "Uh, I came out here last night for some fresh air, saw what those little girls were doing and fell asleep" I summed up the previous night, assuming he knew of the feeding zombies. They all fed them here right? That was their thing?

He frowned at me for a moment, taking in my words. "You've been out here in this sun for a while, you probably have heat stroke, come inside so me and doctor S can have a look at you" just then I realized how stupid I was, I had fallen asleep outside in the sun. This was America, they had crazy heat waves, and I probably had a sunburn on my face now.

I sighed before nodding, standing on unsure feet. Before following the old man inside as he hobbled up the yard. I took in my surroundings. The sun was a quarter of the way in the sky, and I just now noticed the heat I felt coming off it. The heat waves visible from here. Rick's farm looked healthy and strong, feeding off of the sun's energy. Everything I could see was green and healthy. Grass growing taller inside and outside the prison. Well except the zombies. They were more grey and dying.

I turned my head to the old man, Hershel, studying him. He wore a long sleeved light brown/beige shirt, with a darker coloured braces over it. He also wore grey trousers and dark brown boots. I watched as he shuffled with his crutches.

His white tied up hair and beard just made me think of Santa and his kind old face only reinforced that thought.

"What did you do," I spoke up suddenly, shocking even myself. Hershel side eyed me as we continued toward the prison "before all this" I gestured with my arms to the space around us. I don't know why I said it, maybe there was something about this kind old man I felt I could trust or maybe I really did have heat stroke. All I knew was that I was curious. That this group had managed for this long. With a baby and a crippled old man, in this world we now lived in. It would seem impossible.

His southern drawl immediately captured my attention and I found myself listening intently "Well, before all this I had a farm," he had stopped suddenly and his blue eyes were on the excuse of a farm Rick currently ran. "I was in denial about all this, I thought the undead were sick people." His eyes met mine as he spoke "It was sick, me and a few others kept them in a barn, thinking eventually there'd be a cure, that they could still be saved." he shook his head "Then Rick's boy Carl was shot by Otis, my ranch hand, who was tracking a buck. We saved the boy and Rick and his group stayed a while."

His eyes hardened at his next words "But one of his group, a man called Shane, was out of control, he opened the barn and shot them all. I lost myself, not wanting to face the reality, went to the local pub and drank the day away." He adjusted his crutches and leant against them "Rick made me come to terms with it all, and next thing we know there's a herd of them, heading towards my farm, we had no choice but to leave," he stared at me, eyes unwavering "and Rick stood up, became a leader. He protected us, kept us fed, kept us safe. And he's the reason why we settled at this prison, it was a roof over our heads, secure." He re-adjusted his crutches, preparing on moving again. "Without him we wouldn't have made it this far, I know he seems a little distant now, but if you stick around, you'll see the kind of man he really is. Now then, let's get that head checked" he said before starting walking again. I was too lost in thought over his words to say anything.

This group had been through a lot of drama it seems, on top of the undead. The last thing you need is drama on top of a life like this. Just imagining arguing over trivial things when there wasn't even a guarantee you'd live tomorrow seemed baffling to me.

We walked through the metal door, the red thing squeaking on its hinges. Just like yesterday I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of sunlight and followed the old man through the prison. Eventually we were in cell block D and I kept close to Hershel with all these new faces I'd never seen watching me. He hobbled up the stairs, me sticking closely behind before stopping at a room.

"Doctor S, you in there?" Hershel asked pushing back a white curtain. A brown, sun kissed man with short trimmed black hair peeked out, smiling broadly.

"Yes, yes Hershel what can I do you for?" he questioned. He seemed eager to help Hershel, probably thinking the old man had come over his leg. I took a second to study the man. He wore a simple blue undershirt, with a brown elbow length over shirt. He had an air about him that spoke of calm and collected.

Hershel gestured to me "Found her sleeping outside, has been out there all day under that heat, I was thinking she might have heat stroke for being out that long" he maintained eye contact with the doctor. This 'doctor S' turned and studied me, before motioning for me to come into his cell. I gingerly followed and stood awkwardly in his cell. He smiled at me "Please, sit." I nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, feeling more and more awkward being here. There probably wasn't anything wrong with me. I felt fine. If anything I felt like I was wasting this doctor's time when he could be treating actually ill people. I had half a mind to up and leave. But Hershel stood in the doorway.

He smiled at me again, his face looking so much like how all doctors look as they listen to your bullshit problems before prescribing you some shit medication that doesn't work. I internally sighed. "Alright, uh" he paused, looking at me in a questioning manner. "Sam" I clarified for him, Jesus this was cringe worthy.

He nodded "Sam, how long were you outside for?" he asked as he picked up some tools, specifically the torch, before shining it in my eyes. "Uh, I went outside for some air last night," he turned my head side to side, staring intently at my reactions. "saw those two little girls feeding the zombies, felt like I was going to be sick, sat down for a minute, next thing I know Santa Clause over there is hitting me with his walking stick" I smirked at Hershel, hoping he wouldn't be offended with my joke. What else could I do in this situation? I had to lighten the mood.

The doctor turned the flashlight off, looking at Hershel, them two seemingly having a private conversation before turning back to me. "Have you been experiencing any headaches? Nausea?" he questioned. I paused, taking in everything overall. Before shaking my head, "No I feel fine".

He nodded before reaching into a bag and pulling out a bottle of water, "Well overall you seem fine. Drink plenty of water and try and get some rest, if symptoms do start showing come back and I'll give you something for the headaches, other than that keep out of the sun, at least for a while" he smirked. I took the bottle and stood, thanking him. I was glad the whole thing was over, I just wanted to go lie down in my cell. On a cool duvet.

I smiled at Hershel before bolting it out of there, high tailing it back to cell block C. But not before glancing back and seeing the two men talking and sharing concerned looks. Over what, I didn't know.