Authors note: hello again fellow internet users, I have returned with the next chapter! *cheers*

Anyways hope everyone enjoys and thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed favourited etc you are amaazing and i am so outrageously flattered by all of your fabulous support.

Much love to you all, I shall update soon xx

I feel nothing as the body of my victim crumples to the floor. Heroism is a policy that vacated this world a long time ago, replaced only by a need for survival. People don't do selfless or 'nice' things anymore. Nothing is done purely for the good of others as all is polluted by the threat of humanity's imminent destruction. This fear lingers on the edge of all our deepest nightmares. It makes us run faster, hit harder, jump higher; the need for survival has turned us into a more primitive race than we previously liked to believe we were.

Although perhaps we have always been this savage? Maybe we, as a race, attempted and pretended to adopt an air of sophistication that made us better than the other inhabitants on the planet, but really all it was was a pretence. And underneath all of our attempted niceties, and posh dinner parties, I think we knew that there was an animal lurking inside our very souls. Animalistic survival instincts make us meaner, harder, but they also keep us alive. So perhaps to live in this world ditching the heroic pretence and adopting the rawer, harder policies of survival is what I need to do.

Because I don't think I can cope with trying to save so many people when I'm struggling to save even myself. For as the world around us gets darker, we must get darker still.

I spin around and raise my blade in anticipation of killing Valentine if I have to, only to realise that he has disappeared. He must have snuck off while I was dealing with the walker problem. "What a coward, to have run away when I had my back turned," I think.

I replace my sword back into its sheath at my back and walk towards the desolate form that whimpers on the ground before me. Amatis Is clutching her stomach, and her fingers are red and slick with her own blood, which continues to spew from her wound. Her ashen face is suspended in a look of shock; her eyes are wide and watering, her mouth half open, and her skin a pasty white. She does not move other than the erratic rise and fall of her chest as she gasps in air like a fish out of water.

I kneel next to her and hold her bloodied hand, pulling her head into my lap. "Tell... Tell Luke…" she gurgles painfully.

"Hush now," I whisper gently, putting my face close to her ear so she does not miss my words. "Don't try to speak, it will only make it worse." She seems displeased by this and vaguely shakes her head at me.

"Foolish… tell Luke… he needs to find… the promised…" she gurgles out the last sentence and a collection of foamy blood and saliva falls down her chin. She has stopped breathing.

"The promised what? The promised what?!" I scream at her, shaking her forcefully in frustration. "The promise land? Is that it? Because that's not a real place you crazy old lady!" my tears start spilling down my cheeks now and I watch as they splatter and leave stained patterns on Amatis' white face. "The promised land can't be a real place, can it?" I shake my head and sink back on to my heels, placing Amatis' head back on to the ground. She is the second person today that I have neglected to save. The second person in one day. I feel disgusted and ashamed of myself and sit cross-legged on the cold ground next to the body as these emotions begin to swallow me whole. I feel them spreading from my heart like roots, the hatred and fear and disappointment webbing out down my arms, legs, wrapping around my chest and my brain.

My misery is interrupted by a sharp scream that makes me jump to my feet. Old Martha, the cook that apparently fancies Jace, is staring at me. Her left hand is over her mouth in an expression of horror as she points at me and the body with her right. Her eyes flick from Amatis to me, to the blood on my hands and face. She begins to scream again, and I rush over to quiet her.

"Shut up," I whisper forcefully, "walkers will come." She does not react to me other than to back away towards the door, terrified eyes transfixed on my bloodied visage.

"Help! Help!" she screams, even louder than before. "Murderer murderer!" she screeches the accusation at me and with terrible clarity I understand her mistake. She thinks that I have killed Amatis.

I begin to panic as I realise what this could mean if more people come to the barn. There are strong men and women who live here, and if they think I have killed their leader, they are not going to be merciful.

"No no it wasn't me I swear!" I exclaim reaching out to Martha with my hands. She stares at the red that soaks my arms and starts screaming even louder. I know that I have just spooked her even more and that the evident blood on my hands has confirmed her suspicions. She is in such a state of hysterical panic that I know there can be no reasoning with her, anything I say can only panic her more than I already have.

The sound of voices can be heard now, and although they are too far away to distinguish individual people, I can hear that a large group of them must be headed this way in response to Martha's calls. Despite not being able to see them, I can imagine the looks of steely determination on their faces as they run towards me, expecting to find one of their own in trouble. But at the moment what they will find is me, covered in blood, and the dead body of their leader. I can understand why I would be the prime suspect, especially since the course of death was a blade of some sort and everyone knows I make sure to carry my sword with me at all times. Maybe if I show them that my katana does not have any blood on it then they will believe that I was not responsible. But then I look to the ground and see the decapitated form of Hodge and realise that since I used my sword to kill him then his blood will covering my blade. He had not been dead long enough for his walker blood to be discoloured so the mob would not be able to tell the difference.

And I am not wrong to describe them as a mob. The pounding of feet is so loud now that I know there must be about 15 angry men and women who will be even angrier when they see what has happened. Some of these people didn't trust me anyway, some of them I had grown to like, but when put through the trauma of surprising events that both scare and anger someone, they do things out of character and it won't matter who likes me or not. If the mob thinks I am guilty, I might not leave this barn alive. That thought reminds me of the rifles that the people on patrol always carry around and I make my decision. There is only one thing I can do, the thing I do best. I run away.

I run through the back of the barn just as the first people enter through the front doors, Martha's screaming is still apparent but quieter so I can hear their quizzical tone of voices. I don't stop to listen to what they say.

My only step forward has to be to get out of the compound, but before I do that I am going to have to get some supplies. From behind the barn I can just see the side door which leads into the kitchen and so I sprint towards it, being as quiet as I can. Luckily, the door is unlocked and so I step inside the dark room and close it silently behind me. The kitchen is a narrow but long room filled to bust with random bits of furniture. To my right is a sink with running water where the clothes are manually washed up by whoever's shift it is. Fortunately whoever's shift it is tonight is currently else were and so there are a bunch of clothes in a heap next to the sink. I creep towards them and see a light brown backpack that I think I recognise but cannot place who it belongs to and snatch it up hurriedly; I can hear people coming out of the barn. Next I head over to the cupboards and fling them open. It is filled with cans and I marvel at the amount of goods they have. This camp won't go starving for at least a year with this amount of canned goods- and that's not even including the chickens and other livestock they keep here.

I feel guilty for taking food from them but I know that I need it, so I take two cans of baked beans and an extra can of beef ravioli and place them into the backpack. Then I move over to the drinking tap and fill a water bottle up with water and take a handful of purifying tablets. I can feel panic knotting in my stomach as I hear people moving towards the kitchen from outside, so flinging the bag onto my back I cautiously go through the kitchen and into the corridor beyond.

The corridors are deserted as I make my way upstairs and into my room. I grab the clothes folded on my bed and take all off the weapons lying around and put them in my boots and the pocket of my jacket. I place a handheld gun that I recognise as a Glock into the back of my trousers. I am about to exit when I hear a voice outside my room and freeze.

"No she wouldn't do that," Jace says, his voice animated.

"I'm not saying she would," Alec says with a sigh, "I'm just saying that we need to find her."

"Well that much is obvious."

Jace is directly outside my door and I panic, praying that he doesn't come in. I search around my room for a place to hide and see nothing but the old wardrobe. Opening its door I climb in just as someone turns the door handle and steps inside. Jace is silhouetted by the golden lights of the corridor behind him, and from the angle that I am looking from through the keyhole, he looks like an avenging angel.

"Look, all her stuff has gone." Alec says, moving towards my bed. "Her clothes, her weapons. It looks to me as if she's grabbed her stuff and left already."

"But I don't understand, if she didn't do it, why didn't she come and say good bye? Why did she just leave?" Jace says, and although his voice sounds bored I can detect the underlying notes of worry and maybe even pain. I want to go to him but I know that I mustn't. It'll be easier for him to think I've left him behind because I don't care about him. Rather than because I care too much about him. I see now that my leaving here is the only thing I can do, I have to leave alone.

"Maybe she did do it." Alec says, "And so she planned all this and ran away. Or maybe she had nothing to do with Amatis and just happened to leave on the same night; it's not like Martha is particularly reliable. But it doesn't look like she's here anymore so we will probably never find out. Come on lets go." Alec leaves the room without looking back at Jace and walks down the hallway. I hear his footsteps as he strolls away.

Jace looks around the room again, walks over to my bed and sighs. He then goes to the window facing the door and looks out of it wistfully. I can't see his face through the key hole but I can see his fists clenched tightly at his side, the knuckles turning white. He is so close to the wardrobe that I dare not breathe. I pull away from the keyhole and slink into the corner, hugging my knees to my chest and listen. I can hear his breaths- solid and steady, but muffled a little by the wood between us. Eventually, he straightens up and I hear him walk to the middle of my room, sigh again, and then leave. I stay hidden in the closet until I can no longer hear him down the hall.

I step out of my hiding place and zip up my jacket. Opening the window, I slip out and shimmy down the ivy which clings to the wall, pulling my body in tight in case anyone is looking. When I hit the ground I do so silently- I cannot make any noise. The wall that separates this community and the outside world stands tall about 30 metres in front of me. I will never be able to climb it and the only way out is through the massive gates that are manned at all times. The only way that I can get out has got to be through that gate, but how the hell can I get it to open? Thinking back to when Jace and I were on guard duty, I think I remember seeing that the gate worked on some sort of pulley system. There was an old iron handle that twisted anti-clockwise puling on a chain which then opened the door. If only I can distract the guards I should be able to open it easily.

I sprint straight forward and position myself so that my back is pressed against the cold, hard material of the wall. I sneak along it, watching for people but the only light that I can see is coming from the barn which is on my far left and way too far away for anyone to see me when it is this dark. I move swiftly until I reach the iron bars that make a ladder, leading up to the guards posts. I climb up as silently as possible, one arm pulling me up, the other holding the handle of a knife. When I am high enough so that my head can see onto the platform, I look both ways and check for guards but immediately shrink back down. To the right, blocking my path is a man with a rifle, slouched against the wall. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest so loud that I'm surprised that the whole community doesn't hear it. I take a few deep breathes and try to relax. If he had seen me he would have alerted the others by now so he either wasn't looking or is asleep. I pray for the second of the two options and stick my head over again. After a minute of the man not moving, I crawl onto the platform and quietly creep towards him, making sure to crouch down.

He must be asleep, or dead. But I don't think about the possibility of the second and instead continue my journey: sneaking towards the end of the strip of walkway- towards the lever. It is in sight of me now and I begin to trot towards it, raising my speed but making sure to stay alert and light footed. Everything is going smoothly, just a few more steps and I'm there. "Almost there," I mutter to myself. "Almost there."

My fingers circle the cold, metal lever and I smile with relief. I begin to turn the spherical switch towards me and I hear the soft thunk of the great wooden doors begin to swing open below.

"I'm afraid I can't let ya do that." A man's voice says behind me. Slowly, I swivel round and face him. It's the guard I had passed before- the one who is DEFINITLEY not sleeping. I mentally kick myself for being so naïve. "You see there are some people who are very keen to get their 'ands on you." I faintly recognize the man but not enough to name him. I size him up immediately. He isn't particularly big, maybe 5"8, and his round face is red and blotchy. The man is about forty years old, with greying hair and a receding hair line, he looks like he has never done a spot of hard work in his life. I know that if I need to, I could fight him. My eyes flicker to my right side and over the wall- it would be a long way to fall if somebody were to get pushed.

"Now what could a pretty lil' thang like you have done to piss so many people off?" he crowed, taking a giant step towards me and licking his bottom lip slightly. "See I was sent up here t'watch out for ya, and that's got me a wandering what naughty thangs you have been up to." He steps towards me again and is so close to me that I can see the sweat hanging on his fat upper lip. He is grotesque.

"Stay away from me." I say, looking at him venomously. The knife that I still hold in my hand is behind my back and if he tries something then I will use it. I see a flicker of white out on the edge of my vision and my head snaps to the side left to see what it was. The man in front of me takes my distraction as an opportunity to leap and he grabs my waist, pinning my arms to my sides with his giant clammy hands. The shock of his strike makes me release my grip and the knife falls to the floor with a clatter of metal. The man comes so close to me that he is practically pressing himself against me and he whispers in my ear: "they said to me that I 'ad to 'and you over, but they didn't say I couldn't 'ave a little fun first." His laugh in my face is moist and putrid. I turn my head defiantly.

There is a hard thud and he releases me with a gasp stumbling backwards. I scurry for my knife and hold it out in front of me ready to attack to see that there is no need; the man is already on the floor, his head bleeding, knocked unconscious. I see a bloodied rock by the side of his head and run to look over the side of the railing onto the compound but there is no one there.

Puzzled but relieved regardless I turn back to the wheel and turn it some more until I can see the door open enough for me to get through. I rush back down the ladder and along the wall and get to the door. There is a gap between the doors that is just large enough for me to get through, and I am about to shimmy on through when I hear a voice calling my name. I turn back and see a golden haired boy running towards me. I don't allow myself to think about how beautiful he looks, or how much it is going to hurt to leave him and all the others behind. I draw in a shaky breath, wrench my eyes away from his approaching form and slither through the doors, pushing them shut behind me.

As I run away from there and into the woods, the sun begins to rise and I feel my heart break just a little bit.