I had decided to skip my poker game, just stayed in the moist, mold arousing generator room, listening to Four try and sing to me. His voice was completely off-key, it rocked in high and lows, it creaked, but I loved it. He sang me to sleep that night.

….

Knock. Knock. I groaned, rubbing my eyes with a stretch. Pieces of my trash mountain roll down. Knock. Knock. "Eh, go away."

The door opens with a dry, dusty creak anyways. My eyes skimmed from the ground up. Muddy black leather shoes. Tattered blue jeans, black thin belt with a holster. Tucked in brownish shirt, sleeves rolled up. Face unusually clean, actually the cleanest I have ever seen it. Rick.

"What…?" I try and ignore my cracking voice. My eyes burn from the obvious tears earlier.

An eyebrow rises, and he leans against the door frame, crossing his arms against his chest. "Carol told me what happened."

"So," I snap stubbornly, crossing my own arms and smacking my back against the wall. My eyes find a piece of trash on the ground.

"Well Beth was mistaken about what she said." He practically spit her name. "You're not crazy, and none of us think that."

"Apparently she does," I kick my foot against the cement.

My eyes flicker to his face. His blue eyes are skimming me, head to toe. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

Crap. Now I was in for it. God, I don't even remember last time I eat. Yesterday? This morning? Two days ago? Might have been three. "Um… I think two or three days ago, but it's okay really, I'm just not all that hungry."

His crystal blue eyes roll and he steps forward, latching on to my elbow and lifting me off the rubble.

"Hey I was kinda sleeping," I groan, rubbing my eyes and yawning.

Rick's eyes flashed around the generator room for a split second, then burned into mine. "Don't come into here anymore."

"What? Why…? I like it here."

"Cause I said so kid, stay were someone can see you or easily find you."

"Rick I can handle myself!" I jerk from his grip.

Rick does his signature grab the bridge of his nose, and grouchily sigh, closing his eyes tightly.

"Don't sigh at me," I snicker, crossing my arms.

"It's time for dinner, we can talk about this later."

"Rick," I hissed, "I don't want to talk about this later, I like it here, I'll come here if I want to." I am stubborn, I get it from my mother. I adjust my hands over my hips as Rick throws me a glare that make his eyes singe mine. "Fine," I mutter, my eyes flickering to the ground, "what's for dinner?"

….

Dinner was silent, all that echoed in the dusty prison was the clanking of silverware. Beth sat directly across the room from me, her blue eyes digging into my face and fork sticking straight up. Glenn and Maggie sat next to her, their hands twined on the table. Hershel on the other side of the evil blonde. The next table over was Daryl and Carol, the Ass Kicker box resting on the floor by her. All the other tables were filled with the Woodbury people and Rick sat with Tyrese and his sister, Michonne was out on watch. That left me and Carl at the end table, picking at the canned green beans and powered milk.

"You weren't at the poker game," Carl says, scrunching his face as he sips his powdered milk from a bend up peach can.

"Yeah…" I push around my food, trying to convince Rick I've been eating. "I wasn't feeling up to it."

Carl sighed, "Maggie told me what happened—what Beth said." He shook around his shaggy brown hair, "it isn't true Scar, really. Beth didn't mean nothin' by it."

I give him one of my cheap smiles, "Officer Friendly already beat you to it Carl. And I'm pretty sure Beth has wanted to get that out for a while," my eyes flicker to Beth across the room, our eyes lock, demanding each other.

"She isn't going to be happy about this."

"About what?"

Carl slyly looked over his shoulder, crouching in the table close to me. "I've chosen you over her, it's a girl thing, apparently by sitting here I am betraying her."

"Whooped-dido that's just great, she can suck it." Carl leaned out, taking another bite of green beans.

"Another thing," Carl whispers in a rough voice, leaning closer again, I can smell the canned vegetables on his breath. "See the Woodbury guy in the glasses?" His blue eyes gesture behind him, towards the table in the corner. The empty one.

A man in a plaid red dress shirt, tan slacks, combed blonde hair and round Harry Potter glasses sat with a little notebook, scribbling with a dull pencil on the pages. I had seen him before… he was at The Governor Meet. Michael was it? Mitchel? No Milton, it was definitely Milton. "Yeah I see 'em, why you whispering?"

"He's been following you Scarface," I make a sour face at him, Scarface was a new one. "This is serious, he's been watching you… I think he's working for The Governor."

"Relax," I roll my eyes, but in the pit of my stomach a twisting twinge goes through, fear. "I'll get his back story, clear his name got it? He just doesn't seem like the type."

"You want me to come with you?"

Oh, this was great, first Rick now Carl? Like father like son I guess. "I can handle myself, what is it with you Grimes and thinking I can't?"

He shrugs, taking another regretful swig of powdered milk.

….

The prison fell silent, as it did every night. The fence rattled with wind and snores echoed lightly. Some people are still up, Rick and Daryl are down stairs, bickering about supplies again. Tyrese is on his shift with his sister. I tip toe past Maggie and Glenn's cell, Maggie has and arm slung over his body, his face squished into the pillow.

The stairs are the hardest to conquer, every third step they creek. I creep down the stairs, avoiding the ones I know squeak. Finally, I get the bottom, a candle light sketching Milton's room. I sneak by, peering into his cell. He has a simple duffle bag in the corner, the candle stick on the shelf. He sleeps on his back, blankets neatly over his body.

An edge of his prized notebook peeks out from under his pillow. I slink inside, the candle flickering, shadowing one side of my face. Carefully, I kneel down beside his face, trying to bring my hands under the pillow. My body trembled and voice quivered, thoughts became numbed.

Don't mess up Siren!

I fall flat, allowing my hands to catch me from bashing my skull into his bed frame. "Screw you!"

Ehhh. Would be kinda hard to do….

Milton smacked his lips dryly, eyes staying closed. I sigh, relieved. "Talk later," my heart races as I hear the familiar voices of Rick and Daryl, the petrifying squeal of the door.

"Oughta talk to the rest of 'em as well."

Crap. Crap. Shit. Why me? Oh man…. I panic, my heart punching me and a hot trickle of sweat skidding down my back, footsteps looming closer. I crawl under Milton's bed, waiting and watching as two pairs of feet shuffle by.

Sighing, I crawl out on my belly, flinching the notebook and flipping the pages. Tears swell, my heart throbs vigorously against my chest, because all that is written in this book is

Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias. Tobias.

I toss the book and run to the generator room.