Hey everyone I'm back with another installment to this story! I really enjoy writing this, I hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much. Thank you to those who are still following along! (and a new follower, Carlisles gurl) Reviews are very much appreciated! I only hope this story can get better and it helps to have some positive feedback and criticism. After that being said, I hope you like this chapter! I do! READ ON!

I didn't cry. I didn't want to cry. I had no reason to. Daryl was nothing to me and that was that. He wasn't worth the tears. I refused to talk to anyone but Glenn, who approached me without interrogation, unlike multiple others within the group, after hours of me pouting in my tent.

"Knock, knock," I heard his familiar voice outside the zippered door.

"If you're here to bother me, leave," I called out bitterly.

"No I wanna say hi," he replied, a hurt tone following his words.

"Whatever," I sighed and rubbed my aching head.

He didn't hesitate to unzip the flap after I spoke that word and he climbed in, almost tripping over his feet before placing himself in the spot next to me.

"Hiya," he greeted, but he didn't really smile. He looked like he had a lot on his mind and wanted to talk about it. I sarcastically waved at him and sat up on my cot. "Lauren. You're a girl right?"

I raised an eyebrow at his question, "Well…I sure hope so. At least that's what the doctor told my parents many years ago."

"Ha. Very funny," he replied jokingly, raising his chin at me and adjusting his hat, "well I have a question…but! You have to promise not to laugh." I motioned for him to go on and he obliged. "Well you know Maggie right? I just…I don't understand her. Like one minute she says she'll…you know, have sex with me," he hissed quietly as if someone would overhear him, "but then the next she's all mean to me." I tried to stifle my laugher, understanding that I promised him I wouldn't let a chuckle slip, but his problem seemed so junior high. He noticed the amusement on my face and frowned, about to stand up and give up on the conversation.

"No, no," I chuckled and grabbed his hand and pulled him back to sit on the cot with me, "you have to understand the pressure she is under right now, Glenn," I began explaining, and he turned his attention back to my words, hanging on them for every millisecond of advice he could grasp. "We are in the zombie apocalypse for God sakes," I giggled and he only nodded. "Girls are difficult, I get it, you just need to offer her some space and consideration."

"Yeah," he replied, the tone of his voice much more realizing and soft. He turned his head and eyes up, as if he were returning to his thoughts, "thank you." I nodded and forced a gentle smile, watching his face turn to a different emotion. It was quiet for moments until he snapped back to reality. "Oh," he started to speak, "I've been meaning to ask you this too…are you okay? I mean, you ran out of the house pretty fast this morning." I didn't want to reply to his question and he cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling the tension in the tent build. "If you don't want to answer that's fine, but I'm…I mean we, all are worried." I hesitated before sighing and shaking my head.

"You know…" I began, "I don't really know."

"Well, what…what did you and Daryl talk about?" he questioned, obviously curious, but not intending to pry further and tug on my emotions. His words did affect me, however, as I felt a sharp spin of anger twist through my body at the mention of the man's name. I felt my face churn up into something bitter looking, as I pondered how I would react to this question outwardly.

"You're a boy right?" I asked, turning his earlier question on him, and he looked down and chuckled, nodding. "Well then, what the fuck is wrong with him?" I interrogated blatantly and he only continued to laugh softly to himself. I found myself giggling a little too, my mood seeming to lighten up a bit.

"Good question," he replied and shook his head, smirking.

"You see, he acts like this big tough guy all the time, but I know for a fact there is something much deeper to him, you know? He saved my life. Twice. But then he turns around and starts being a big ol' bitch to me and I don't get it."

"Yeah that's Daryl," he laughed light-heartedly, but understood my words carefully, "listen…can I be honest with you?" I nodded in reply and his smile gradually faded away, his features taking up a much more serious emotion. "I don't mean to be a middleman or anything, but I can tell Daryl has really changed since you came to camp." I didn't know how to take Glenn's words. Was that good or bad? I saw him realize my confusion and he spoke again, "in a good way. I don't know how to describe it, but if you think he's bitchy now, you should have seen him last week. It's like you have caused some type of effect on him." I didn't necessarily understand what Glenn was getting at. Damn, guys are really confusing. He chuckled, watching the emotions on my face change from confusion to an even deeper confusion, and then to suspicion. "He'll get over it," he said lastly, rising to his feet.

"Promise?" I questioned genuinely. He laughed once more and outreached his hand in my direction and stuck out his pinky for me to link my own with. I obliged.

He nodded and replied quietly, "Promise."

He left my tent without another word. I didn't know how to go about feeling now. It just felt weird to hear someone else's opinion on the difficult situation. But, I knew I had to accept it gratefully, knowing Glenn kept an intellectual mind about the topic. I decided against my conscience and stepped out of my tent and began walking towards the house again. They were holding a good dinner tonight and I couldn't miss it. I noticed Rick walking in the direction of the old farmhouse too, and I ran to catch up with him. Rick was surprised to see me up and moving after hiding myself away all day. He shot me a questioning look as if to ask if things were going okay and I only could nod.

The dinner was slightly awkward. Everyone was grateful to fill their bellies once more, however, and they all exchanged acknowledging gazes and nods, throughout the midst of silence. Daryl was not participating, still resting in the room down the hall, and I was okay with that. I wanted to focus on myself and my needs. My needs were to feed myself and indulge in the family-like aura that these people radiate. I averted my glance to Glenn whom was smiling sheepishly at a mischievous-looking Maggie sitting diagonal to him. I tried to refrain from chuckling, but Glenn's childish ways seemed humorous to me. The others and I finished eating one after another, and I decided to stay after and help Beth and Lori with the dirty dishes.

"You know, you should talk to him," Lori spoke out of nowhere, but insinuated she was referring to Daryl and I. Beth stayed quiet and avoided butting in. I pretended that I didn't hear her, even though she literally stood only a couple feet away from me. It was immature of me but I didn't need other people cutting into my social decisions. "He's only moping and I'm getting tired of you moping because he's moping."

"I'm sorry. I'm not in a position to do that right now," I replied, scrubbing food off of one of the plates.

"I understand, I do. But this is getting old already and one of you needs to take initiative." I tried to process her words but I couldn't. It sounded like she was scolding me and I didn't appreciate being put in that position.

"I get where Lori is coming from," quiet Beth spoke to cut the tension, "I don't know much about you, or Daryl, but there are rumors floatin' around here and I understan' you've both got somethin' goin' on. I don't know if it's with each other or personal, but when I was sitting outside with Jimmy, the way I saw you run off of that porch was frightening." Her voice was gentle and little, but they really impacted the way I began to feel. I took her words in carefully, picking them apart cautiously and thinking of a way to reply back.

"Well…a rumor's a rumor," I said bitterly, "I am sure as hell there isn't anything going on between Daryl and I," I explained and set the clean dish down for her to dry, "if people would actually mind their own business, maybe there wouldn't be an issue." And with that, I stalked off towards the main gathering room and sat in the chair in the corner. It was like I had no business to be personal around here anymore. I wish all of these people would shut the hell up already and stop prying into my life. I have absolutely nothing emotionally or personally tied to the asshole of a man recovering in the other room. And if I did, it wouldn't be anyone's damn business but my own. My flowing thoughts were cut short when I heard footsteps padding on the old wooden floor.

"Someone doesn't look too happy," an old male voice said gingerly. I looked up to see a tired looking Hershel. He smiled tenderly at me, his eyes seeming to calm my mood down quite a bit. I shrugged at his accusation and he sat on the end of the bed. He pulled off his loafers and set them on the old-fashioned rug beneath his feet. "How are things going?" he questioned, looking back up at me.

"They're definitely going," I replied sarcastically and he picked up on it quite quickly, sending a concerned gaze in my direction.

"Maggie told me," he explained, cutting to the chase. Okay, I guess jack shit can't be kept private on this farm, Christ. "You know…you remind me a lot of her…" his sympathetic voice trailing off as he wandered into his own thoughts. "You both are so determined," he explained himself, "everything you do has to be done and done with diligence. And if I can understand where you're coming from, you are also fairly honest but you tend to let your feelings get the best of you, am I correct?" I thought about it for a moment before I felt an understanding of the wise old man. "Right, and you refuse to let things go," he explained. His opinion was accurate, but I couldn't seem grasp what he was trying to get me to realize. "Possessing those qualities can be a good thing but maybe not in this situation. I don't want to intervene with any of this, because you are capable of making your own decisions, but, this isn't the way to go with this kind of thing, in my opinion." I guess he had a point, yeah, but if Daryl can act childish and get his way, then why the hell can't I? I need to stick up for myself and I won't let him drag me down. "Daryl is a fighter, he is, and you both are also very alike in that way," he continued, "I had chatted briefly with him, actually…" The old man rubbed the white stubble growing at his jaw with his knuckles. "He is having a hard time struggling with his feelings right now, and I thought you should know that." I knew Daryl hadn't necessarily said that to Hershel exactly, because if I know anything about him, it's that he never shares any of that with anyone. Hershel seemed good at understanding people, however, and I knew I had to trust his word. I was battling the urge to go into Daryl's room and apologize, because in all honesty, I was just a big of bitch as he had been. I refrained though, hearing Hershel out. If space is what Daryl requested, then that was what he was going to get.

"I suggest trying to fix things before they get too out of hand. But, that's all up to you, of course," he said and a low chuckle bellowed out of him.

"Thank you," I spoke quietly and genuinely. Hershel offered a smile in return before standing and turning out the small desk lamp. I took that as my cue to head off for the night, but before I did, I fought myself once again and turned down the hall towards Daryl's room. I crept quietly across the floor as I did not want to wake him. His door was slightly ajar, and I went and stood by the entrance. I heard soft snores escaping from the sleeping man and I felt myself smile. It was so good to hear him be at peace for once.

I turned in for the night, Hershel's words replaying over and over in my mind like a broken record. I don't remember getting much sleep, I kept waking up worrying about Daryl. What the hell was I doing? I don't know the man. I can't be feeling this much for him. He saved my life, though, that is what was constantly throwing me back. He obviously cared to come looking for me and cared enough to rescue me the first time we met. He shouldn't care about me. I don't need to be cared about anymore. I don't need to care either, because everything I care for, dies in the end. I thought about Atticus too. I thought about how much Daryl reminds me of him. Both of them are so stubborn, but so protective at the same time. I wondered if Atticus was looking down at me, I wondered if he could see me from the heavens above. I wish he was here, to witness how strong I've become. Honestly, he would've cried if he saw how many other survivors there are here, and he never cries. I wish he was here to help me through the rest of this. My thoughts skipped back to the shattered memories of Atticus I constantly refused to keep but they kept still within the back of my mind.

"Lauren?" The familiar voice called from around the house. I went out to the greenhouse in the backyard to collect some ripening produce.

"Yes?" I asked, turning around to see Atticus. He came into the little shelter and started helping me pick an assortment of vegetables and fruit.

"I just killed another couple. There seems to be a lot more today," he said kind of frantically, turning over a tomato in his palm.

"Weird," I bit my lip in frustration, "it'll pass." I tried to remain hopeful, Atticus told me to. However, it was hard to ignore everything nowadays. Everything is getting worse. I heard a collection of moans, knowing that they were growing closer to us. I stepped out of the greenhouse carrying a basket full of fruits and Atticus was right on my heels, his hands full too. I freed a hand and pulled out my knife, ready to attack at any point given. I saw multiple zombies creeping our way, closing in on us. We began sprinting until I had lost my footing and tripped over myself.

"Shit!" I yelped in pain as I fell to the ground, flinging red, yellow, and green crops all over the yard. A sharp stab of pain spread up through my foot to my ankle, sending bitter nerve reactions throughout the rest of my leg.

"Lauren!" Atticus screamed, "get up! Get UP!" His voice was scared as he pulled on my wrist to help me stand. I depended my weight on him, and he hoisted me up, frightened and frantic. He slung my arm around his shoulder and began helping me hobble towards the direction of our house until one of those worst noises was sent swirling through the air like a tornado. He let out the worst bloodcurdling shout, making me scream and jump too. His grip had loosened on me and let go all together. At this point I was shaking and crying as I turned around to see a zombie had grabbed him and its teeth were sunken into the flesh of Atticus' arm. He was screaming and crying for me to run away but I couldn't. I threw my knife at the attacker and it shot him right in the forehead, sending him stumbling backwards. Atticus was collapsed on the ground holding his gushing, wounded arm. I ran to him and helped him up as best as I could being as small as I am and with my new injury, and rushed him the rest of the way to our house without another hit of a serious incident. We simultaneously sobbed as we struggled through the procedures of this; we never had to deal with a bite or encounter someone with one and this was so difficult for the both of us to handle. I tied an old t-shirt around his arm as he continued to scream in agony.

"I swear to God, Lauren, you're so stupid. Why didn't you just leave-gahhh! L-eave me out..there?" he asked bitterly through gritted teeth, "you know I-I'm going to die." He groaned in pain, his eyes full of tears. I sobbed harder at his words. Atticus was the only thing that meant anything to me anymore; he was the closest thing I had.

"Because you can't leave me," I whined, putting pressure on the make-shift bandage. The t-shirt wasn't seeming to cover it, the blood soaking the cotton fabric quickly. I grabbed a towel and tied it around too, my hands shaking wildly. He looked up at me, tears slipping down his tan, mud-caked cheeks. He reached a hand up and placed it under my chin.

"You," he winced, "are st-strong enough..." I shook my head in disbelief of his words, crying harder and harder. His hand was gentle on my skin, his fingers were trembling. "You are." I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing was able to come out. The room was filled with noises of the biters outside trying to get in along with our constant sobs and whimpering. "Lauren," he said, wincing again, "you need to kill me, before I turn. List-listen, there's-ughhhh…there's a- g-gun in the cabinet, above the-"

"No!" I cut him off, "I can't." I continued to shake my head, crying wildly now. He only nodded and grabbed my hand.

"Lauren!" he ordered sternly, "you have to. Please. It's-it's all I ask. I can't…I can't be one of…them..." The look in his eyes was sincere and genuine, but also heavily pained and exhausted. "Once you do it…y-you need to get out of here. Far-far…far away."

"No, no…no no no," I whimpered, gripping his hand tighter.

"Lauren, l-look at me." The gaze on his face was pleading and sincerely begging me to do this. I wasn't ready. I couldn't kill the only thing I loved. When he was only ten, he was the one that helped my mom raise me from the age of three. We were attached at the hip for so many years, never doing anything without the other. At this moment, I knew he sensed my hesitation to kill him, but I knew that he knew it would be less painful this way. I knew that I didn't want to see him as one of the monsters, but killing him when he is still alive, breathing, and speaking my name seemed to be the worst decision. "I need you to know how m-much I love you," he grimaced at the pain in his arm, "and that I know for a fact that you…you are o-one of the strongest motherfuckers out there." He forced a smile through the pain he was feeling. I cried and cried and he only held onto my hand. "I need you to do this." I hesitated for a bit longer, but the zombies outside were growing even more restless, pounding on the glass and walls harder and harder. I nodded quickly through my tears, biting my lip before rising to my feet and walking over to the cabinet with the weapon concealed inside.