The door to D Block gave with a loud groan as Mila pushed it open. Down the hall, she could hear Hershel speaking with Caleb. She waited patiently a few feet away and cleared her throat when their conversation lulled. "Hershel, I was wondering if you might want my help with anything today."

Hershel acknowledged her with a glance before turning back to his colleague for a moment to bid him farewell and hobbled towards Mila on his steel crutch. She thought to herself how nice it would be if he had a prosthesis.

"Today?" he chuckled. "Today is almost over." Mila studied the lines on his face, and she could tell that he was unhappy; though he had laughed, he was not smiling.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I was up late last night."

"Yes, I know. Your father told me as much. You've been busy being a night watchman." Hershel's usually jovial voice was sprinkled with a heavy criticism that made her stare at her boots and blush in humiliation. She had lied about taking a turn standing guard, and he knew it. He was the one person that she hated to disappoint. "I hear you've also been busy outside the walls."

At that, Mila's gaze shot up to meet his. "If I hadn't been out there, my dad would have killed Daryl or Daryl would have killed him!" she protested.

"Mila," he said her name with a particularly high level of earnestness. "It's dangerous out there. It's good that you found your dad yesterday and I know that you want to make sure that Daryl stays safe, but people are always going to need a doctor. You've got a responsibility to them because of that. What you can do matters; it's valuable. And you've become like one of my own daughters. I'm not sure if you realize that your own father could have killed you yesterday, and it would have been a pure accident if he had. You have to be careful. And it's best that when you go out, you don't go out alone."

Mila sighed, defeated, and nodded. "Hershel, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. It's my dad. Have you . . . talked to him?"

"Yes. I spent most of the day with him."

"Did he tell you anything about what happened before I met you? . . . Did he tell you about Jody? About what happened to her?"

""Yes, he did. Is it her that you want to talk about or him?"

"Him. . . . What exactly did he tell you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

"That is between Hosea and me. You just tell me what's on your mind." Mila admired his fortitude concerning matters discussed in confidence. Hosea had once told her to pay attention to how people spoke of others because they would speak of her in a likewise manner when she was not around. With that bit of wisdom in mind, she knew she could trust Hershel with whatever she told him.

"I guess he did tell you about that night those men came to our camp. What they did." Hershel said nothing, but his face displayed no sign of any confusion or curiosity. Hosea must have told him. "We were going to find them," Mila continued, "and we did. We were going to start picking them off while they were away from their main group. When we got our chance, they were about a mile away from the others. It was three of the four that we were looking for. . . . We were supposed to stay hidden and kill them from a distance, but he didn't. He shot one. Then he had them drop their weapons like they did to us that night. He was going to make it slow.

"There was another one with them. One we hadn't seen. He came up behind Jody and me, pointing his gun. Then he took ours and had Jody and me stand with him. She was right in front of him, a gun to her head. He walked out. Showed Dad he had us. Told him to drop his weapon; he still had it on the other two.

"Everything after that happened in slow motion. . . . What he did was so stupid. . . . Dad turned to shoot the guy that had us. He hit him, but it was in the shoulder and when his shoulder jerked back, he pulled the trigger. He shot again and hit him in the head on the second time. Then he turned back around to the other two. Shot both of them in the gut. Pulled out his knife. Started stabbing them.
"He didn't even look at her until after they were unrecognizable. He was just . . . unhinged. . . . That night, after we buried her, I told him I was going to get some water from the creek nearby. And, when I got there, I just kept walking." Mila breathed a weary sigh. "I'm not even sure if he knows that I just left him. Daryl said that here he has a chance to make things right. Maggie said that he sounds like a good man. But I watched him get in a tight spot and get someone I loved killed. And after, he was like a hollow shell of my dad. The look in his eyes was cold. Distant. He never shed a tear. And he never said a word. . . . He scared me, Hershel. And I'd love to give him a chance to be good again, but not at the expense of another person that I love. And I don't know if I want to forgive him. And even if I can and I do, I don't know how to explain walking away from him like that."

Hershel had been completely still and attentive for the duration of her account. His brow had slightly knitted towards the end when she confessed her emotions concerning the problem that she faced. Mila studied his face as he contemplated all that she had said and considered his response.

"Look around you, Mila," he said. "This prison has walls and good people. Daryl was right; your father has a chance to be good again here. The world has always been an ugly place; it didn't get that way when the dead started walking. It has a way of twisting people. Evil is always at the door. But your father's not evil; he's a man who nearly lost both of his daughters because of his mistakes. And he knows that. . . . 'And be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.' You owe him your forgiveness because Christ forgave you. So long as you follow Him, your forgiveness is not yours to withhold.

"He knows that you left him, and he knows why. He said he doesn't blame you. But you should speak with him honestly about what happened. You can't avoid it forever. But you should do that once you've made up your mind to forgive him and listen to him. That's my advice." His words were firm but gentle. Mila nodded, looking at her shoes again.

"Thanks, Hershel. This means a lot." Putting her hands in her pockets, she shuffled out of D Block back towards her cell.