Author's note: Thank you all for the lovely, kind reviews. This is my first Walking Dead related fanfiction and I didn't expect it to get much attention at all. I'm definitely taking all of your feedback into consideration while writing and hope you will stick with me through this slow burn story. This is certainly not going to be a short one at all.
By the time Beth made it to the small town, she had killed three walkers and avoided two. Her palms were dry with blood - some of which was her own from falling. Pushing a stray piece of blonde hair out of her eyes, she assessed the street. There were many empty stores; most with broken windows. Where she once would've tried to imagine what the town had looked like, now she only saw it for what it was: destroyed.
Combing her way carefully through the crashed and abandoned cars, she cursed herself for never learning how to hotwire one. Many of them looked road worthy, but most were missing their keys. Beth made a mental note to go more through each one, hoping to find a set left in the ignition. While she was able to feed herself, and travel on foot, a car would've made things a lot easier.
She approached a small grocery store with a sign hanging in the window. It read: TAKE WHAT YOU NEED. The letters had been painted clumsily in red paint which had been left to run and gave the whole place a rather foreboding feeling, despite the general kindness in the message. Wrapping her fingers around her knife more tightly Beth gave the door a kick and listened.
There was some movement in the store, but it sounded limited. Best guess was that a walker had been trapped under a fallen shelf and was now clawing at the floor. Breathing out a calming breath she ventured in, stepping over cans of beans and rotted fruit. Water, Beth thought, just a couple of bottles of water. Please.
A sudden, low whistle stopped Beth in her tracks. It felt as if someone had poured cold water over her, and her skin broke out in goosebumps. Gripping her knife and trying to control her breathing, she heard someone start towards her, the heavy drag of boots.
"Well, what do we have here?" the man asked.
"Whole lot o' nothing," Beth replied in what she hoped was a calm voice. She turned around slowly and looked into a set of cold, gray eyes. "I was hopin' for some water but I guess a grocery store was everyone's first stop, huh?"
"I got some water," the man said. Beth watched in disdain as the man grabbed the front of his pants, palming himself grotesquely. "What you willin' to do for it?"
He was older. Maybe fifty - but hard. Muscled. The kind of face that you knew had seen things - had caused things. Bad things. The pit in her stomach grew, gnawing away at her, telling her to run. But where could she go? He was blocking the exit. Lie, she told herself.
"Oh, that's mighty kind, but my boyfriend is just a store over. I'm sure he found something, he's good like that - ex-army and all."
"He left a pretty thing like you alone? In this world? Doesn't seem to smart to me. In fact, looks like someone could snatch you right up and he'd be none the wiser."
"He knows I'm a lot tougher than that," Beth said, fixing him with a dead smile. She willed her eyes to say, try it, I dare you, mister but she had a feeling it came across like a frightened rabbit or a deer facing headlights. Maggie had always told her that her poker face was laughable, and Beth knew it was true. She could never lie worth a damn.
"Aw, c'mon, sweetheart, I don't want no trouble," the man said, moving closer. "You'll like it, I promise."
"Don't make me," Beth said, a note of pleading crept into her voice.
He was standing in front of her. She felt his hand touch her face, then her hair. Her skin crawled. Her throat tightened. She didn't want this. Hadn't Beth been through enough? Enough of these men. Enough of their hands. Enough of their sickness. Images of a dark room swam in her mind - she remembered the feeling of rope burning into her skin, the low voices, the laughter. Beth bit her tongue so hard it bled.
"It'll be over fast," the man said, leaning into kiss her.
Quickly Beth raised her knife and lodged it in his throat. She had seen the surprise on his face. After all, he had seen the knife - she made no move to hide it. But he underestimated her; thought a girl as small or as pretty as her would never use it. He was right, Beth certainly hadn't wanted to use it, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't. That she hadn't before. Or wouldn't again. People, in this world now, were almost all as bad as the walkers themselves - maybe even worse. The walkers only wanted to eat you; no different than a person to an animal. But people? They wanted to break you, make you suffer, they wanted to use you and hurt you - and sometimes, afterwards, they weren't even kind enough to kill you.
Stepping over his fallen body, she wiped her hands off on her jeans. Distantly she hoped she could find a clothing store - one that would have something left in her size - maybe she could even find some new hiking boots. Leaning down she took the man's bag, emptying it of its contents, taking his water and food and a few other things. Grimacing she pulled the gun out of the front of his pants.
"Man," she sighed, looking at the dead man, "I told you not to make me."