I am sorry if this chapter is a little confusing and weird to you, it is supposed to be in some parts… hope you like, and thanks for reviews! Ps, sorry if it has a ton of lines separating things, I apologize, I didn't know how to fix it on my word document. Special thanks to Rainbowteeth8, you are the best, gurl!

Six: Re-End

The sounds of a sister's breathless, never-ceasing sobs fill my ears as I stare at the somber scene that lies before me. The dead girl lies on the bed with the oxygen mask still strapped to her face, her only family left sobbing over her body. Her blue skin is emaciated, delicate, and her interwoven blonde hair is fanned out on the pillow like a Japanese fan in the pale hand of a kabuki dancer.

The doctor with a trenchant chin stands on the side of the scene as I watch, and he slowly crosses over. His steps are long strides with a girl with short red hair behind him, her palms pressed to his back, and she moves as he does. Their mouths move like they are talking, but I hear nothing but the sounds of the sister's sobbing and the father's soft sounds of incredulity. A mother holds onto her son who gasps with pain at the dismal panorama, his bright blue eyes filled with tears.

I see this like I am looking through a blurry raindrop, magnifying the tragic faces of those around me. My heart beats in my ears so loudly that I hear nothing else. I feel it in my neck and chin and in my throat, my entire pulse tugs and jerks out of it like it is so desperate to rip out of my skin. I try to move my hands up to my neck to try and to push my pulse back into my neck, but it is no use. It pulsates out of my neck like a cannon, fully loaded, and I feel myself losing it.

Slowly, I reach into my pocket and grip my fingers around the handle of my knife. It is smooth, slightly tepid, and the blade is still barred inside. Well, Paige will have to change that. Unhurriedly, I slowly pull it out of my pocket, slip the lever on the handle. The sound of the blade clicking out is the only thing I hear beside my heartbeat, and even that sounds hallow and echoed. The wall of ice before me is all I see. Blocking me off from the real world, all of representativeness, and all that is verve. Everything is ice, and I enjoy that, because ice is me.

I plunge my knife into the wall of hoarfrost that lies before me, a howl escaping my lips. The world around me trickles to my feet, cascading like tiny elven droplets as I stab at the ice that keeps me in this cage. It shatters around me, glacial bits flying in my face as subzero tears stream down my face like tributaries, leaving black burning frostbite on my already soggy cheeks. The knife chips away pieces of the ice like it is the only thing keeping me from reality and the startling capriccios world.

"No, no, stop it!" I scream as the ice closes in on me. If I don't destroy this barrier, I will be stuck in this ice-world forever, evermore the only being in this frosty kingdom. I fall to my knees and sob, putting my already frozen hands on the rime wall. My hands tingle with the artic hedge that keeps me from myself, my skin molding to it like the frost is sticking to my fingers. I cry out in pain as my vision turns from red to blue, then black, then back to red again. I press my forehead against the ice as I sob gasping groans from my chest and lift my shaking hands up to the air. "Please, please,"

There is a gush through my brain and at first, I think my head is exploding. Suddenly, I can hear something other than my heartbeat, a yelling that seems like it is underwater. It sounds like a helicopter in my ears as I regain my vision, swooping around me. The movements of the others around are delayed and seem blurrier and blurrier as I open my eyes wider and wider. Suddenly, I feel a burning feeling, radiating first from my knees, and then downwards and upwards to my toes and all the way to the tip of my head until I feel like everything is literally on fire. The ice wall is gone, and now I am engulfed in flames. My heart beats slower and louder in my ear and I hear a muffled yell. I scream and try to stab my knife at the fire, but it is too strong. It doesn't go through like it did to the ice wall.

"Paige! PAIGE!" a distant voice calls, and I let the knife drop my hand with a shallow, postponed clink that reminds me of bebes hitting the floor. I curl to the ground like I am a turtle, my elbows and forearms pressed against the cold tiles and my forehead between my arms. My heart feels like it is racing, my skin radiating with head but the tip of my nose and finger and toe tips are freezing as the ice wall.

"Paige, look at me." a voice says, and a soft hand cups under my chin. I feel so weak, like the fire and ice has drained me. I can't take it anymore, and I snap, letting my body go weak as I sob. I don't even feel the hand on my chin, trying to get me to look. I let myself go, and spiral into a shade of naught.

I feel a hand on my shoulder that feels much, much too warm and I can feel the silty layer of dirt and unwashed fingers as I am dragged to my feet. I stumble on my own legs as I am dragged through the doorway and down the hall, outside until I am at the side of the house. Daryl throws me into the gray paneled side of the structure, gritting his jaws together with the bottom one thrust out in front.

"Get a damn hold on yourself, you dumb bitch! Get ahold of yourself and quit your damn cryin'!" he hollers, grabbing my arm. "You like that? You like that, huh? You wanna cry harder? Is that what it is? I'll make you cry harder!"
"Get offa me!" I scream, pushing his shoulder away from me. "You jackass, get offa me!"

"What the hell were you doing in there!" he hollers, pacing back and forth with his already soiled boots squishing in the wet grass. "You crazy in the head, girl? That it?"

"I ain't crazy!" I sob, feeling the need to bash my head in like I did when I started banging the pitchfork against the concrete part of the horse stall. I feel that same tightness in my neck, the pulsing heart that radiates throughout my entire body like a metronome. The same exact feeling that I got when I watched Petey die. "You're the crazy one, draggin' me outa there like that, oh God." I sob, feeling even more vulnerable. Beth is dead, Beth is gone, Beth is lyin' dead on that bed in there with that damn oxygen mask over her face. "Oh, God, Daryl… I killed her, I killed Beth… I'm the one responsible."

"Ain't no one responsible! It was a virus!" he paces back towards me now, and I'm afraid that he'll hit me, but he doesn't. "Damn virus killed her in a world full of walkers…" he shakes head, sniffing his runny nose.

"It's all my fault, Daryl, I left her in that van… if it weren't for me, she might still be –"

"Shut that shit, 'cause it ain't gonna cut it. No blame games, girl. No guilt trips, and no survivor's blame. She's gone, and there ain't a thing we can do about it!"

"Oh God, she's dead." I sob, feeling my nose run all the way down to my lips. I don't care, I let it this one time. I don't feel like wiping it with the back of my sleeve. My best friend is dead. However she felt about me, Paige Elizabeth Swift, I know that Beth was my best friend. Or the closest thing I ever had to one. She may have really hated me inside, or resented me for all of this, but somehow I doubt that. I doubt that she could have hated me, because I felt such a kinship for her that I never had before. I sob here on the ground for what could be months for all I care, but Daryl clears his throat. I look up to his hand that is offered to me, grubby and dirty as it is, but I take it anyway. He pulls me to my feet and leads me out to the water pump that is where Tidan gets water for the horses. He pumps some into a bucket and spoons me a ladleful, and I drink it gratefully. He takes a sip off of the same spoon.

"Look, kid… I'm not your dad, and I sure as hell ain't your brother. Not even your friend."

"Just shut up."

"No, I won't. You have a mega-meltdown in there, you don't getta tell me to shut my mouth. What the hell went on back there?"

"I – I don't know." I say truthfully, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. I hear one of the horses whinny in its stall, the sound of hooves against hay and concrete. "I don't know, Daryl, I – saw this thing, it was this huge wall of ice. I felt my heart beating in my ears, and I knew it was real."

"What the hell you talkin' about, ain't no wall of ice. You sure stabbed the wall though."

"What?" I say, my voice barely a whisper. He sighs and takes another drink off the ladle.

"You say you seen some ice wall, but you was stabbin' at the wall for a while, screamin', fightin'… We were tryin' to pull you off, but damn, you wouldn't have it."

I slowly look up at him. "I was stabbing the wall?"

"Yeah." He nods, and I watch his adam's apple go down. "Like it was a walker or somethin'."

Or an ice wall. This scares me more than anything. I have no recollection of this, and confusion overtakes my mind. I understand how I got to point A to C, but B is missing. It was like I was stuck in some imaginary world. Some world I have no remembrance of. I slide against the stable, feeling the squish of the seat of my jeans in the wet grass. "Daryl, I don't know what's going on."

He sits beside me, his knees up identical to mine. "Beth…" he trails off.

"Don't you feel anything…" I say softly, feeling so exhausted. I notice that my hand has splinters in it and is covered in a slight dust coating that is white. Like drywall. My fingers feel numb, like they have before when I'd wake up in a tree with my hand still clenched around my knife.

"Everyone loved that girl." He clears his throat. "Hard not to."

"I meant… she's gone, do you feel anything."

He sighs. "Everyone loved her, even me I guess. Reckon I don't love her anymore, since she's gone."

"You don't love people when they're gone?" I question, resting my head on the concrete wall of the stable that is stained with age and wear and tear.

"Never loved no one… donno."

I am silent, and he lets me fall asleep with my head against his shoulder.

When I wake up, I am in my bed, and I have the sudden compulsion to go check on Beth like I always do, every time I wake up. I feel like quivering when I realize for the second time that there is nothing for me to check on. This makes me wonder how Hershel and Maggie are doing. I slip on a pair of cardboard slippers that were given to me by Olive, the kind that you can get at hotels that are in a plastic package, and pull my coat over my shoulders. I think Daryl may have carried me here, but it is vague. My head throbs something terrible, like I am hung-over, which I have been many times. Sometimes I would go moonshining with a few hooligans that I used to know. This headache seems all too much of a familiar friend.

Slipping into another room of the bunker, I search for my musket. I haven't seen it since the first night we arrived here. I vaguely remember someone taking it from me for "safe-keeping" in the rush of when Devil was working over Beth, but now I can't find where it is. Frustrated, I settle on a small pistol that I find in one of the nearly empty drawers in Daryl's room, shoving it against my skin at the waistline of my jeans. While I am in here, I also straighten the covers for him. He won't even notice, but I don't mind.

I slide to the bathroom and stick my head under the faucet, taking a few gulps before I head into the bunker common rooms. The television set has a blank blue screen that pops up when it has been on so long without playing a disc. I shuffle past it, rubbing my forehead as I walk outside. The sun seems too bright so I squint my eyes, realizing that I left my hat in my room. I leave it and decide to go to the house instead of going back for it. When I open the door, it is nearly silent beside the sounds of crying and hushed voices.

I walk into the kitchen, where Maggie sits at the head of the table, crying into her hands. Pepe stands behind her, gently patting his olive-casted hand that looks so worn it appears caramelized on her shoulder. Her body shakes with sobs each time she takes a breath, and Glenn rubs her knee under the table. His own cheeks are stained with dry tears, his eyes slightly bloodshot, though he is not crying at the moment.

Hershel is sitting at the table as well, his head in his hands. He pushes on his forehead with the outside sides of his fingers, as if he has a headache as bad as mine, but I can see the tears drip down on the table, and hear his occasional small gasp.

"Cariño," Pepe says softly in his old-time Spanish-sounding voice that is as smooth as a pat of butter. "You feel okay?"

I nod and take a place beside Hershel. He and Maggie are more important to me right now, instead of my own needs. I gently place my hand on his back and begin rubbing in between his shoulders. He looks up at me with blue-gray eyes that are the same color as Beth's. I give him a reassuring nod that turns into a sob of pain, and I take the old man in my arms. He cries, in great pain, as his daughter will never be held in his arms again, will never smile for him again, will never walk down the aisle or kiss the man of her dreams. I comfort him silently until another man walks into the room.

He is fairly young-looking, possibly twenty-five or so, with long hair to his shoulder of a curly blonde color, and he is covered in grease and smudges of dirt.

"Boss," he turns to Pepe, who takes his hand off of Maggie's shoulder. Carol and Lori take the places of comforting her. "I needa talk to ya."

"Of course," Pepe crosses to him and stops at the halt of one room to the other. "What is it? Is there a problem?"

"Naomi and I were wondering… where should we – dig the hole." He jabs his thumb towards the window, and I see a slightly short girl, holding a shovel in one hand.

"How about… out by the big old scarlet oak tree?"

"Will do, boss..." he nods once and disappears. It is strange how many people I don't usually see around here. Most of them, I think, are people that Pepe recruited before the apocalypse, to help keep this place running.

I take a deep, refreshing breath and rise to my feet. Carol looks at me for a moment, a concerned look on her face. I refuse to look at her. If I really did have another episode, such as Daryl said I did – I don't want to face what I did. Now, we mourn. Like normal human beings.

I wander outside out by the pump where Daryl gave me water, and pump it a few times, listening to the water splattering the bottom of the bucket. The first time I look up, Carl is standing there.

"Can I try?" he asks, pushing his hat down over his hair.

"Go away, Carl. Get the hell away from me." if I really was stabbing the wall, I don't want him, or anyone around me. I won't hurt him. If I am crazy, I won't drag this group down with me. I take a long, drawn sip on the ladle and gulp the cool well water down.

"Are you okay?" his eyebrows bunch between his eyes. "Earlier…"

"I told you to go away, Carl… didn't your parents teach you to listen to people who are older than you?"

He scuffle his feet. "You're my friend, and friends help friends."

Yeah, just like I helped Beth. How she died on my watch, my watch. Carl looks up expectantly, and I take his arm, pulling him over to the pump. "Just pull down on it; it'll come out if you pull down real hard."

He pulls down on the red-painted pump and water spurts into the bottom of the blue bucket. He pumps a few more times until he scoops the ladle out and takes a drink. We are silent for a long time, as times are often between us. Then he turns towards me.

"She went the way she wanted to."

"Excuse me?"

"She did… Beth did. She went the way she wanted to. She didn't wanna be gutted by a walker… and she didn't commit suicide. She died like a normal person." I put my hand on top of his hat and tip his head up so I can look into his eyes. He stares up at me again. "She didn't have to suffer very much. Not more than a normal human would."

I pat his hat and hold him close to my side. "Right."

He hugs me back, a sideways hug like he is trying to be more macho, and I walk him back to the house. Maggie is still at the table, but Hershel has migrated to the window where he stares off at the distant fields. "Carl," Lori calls, and Carl goes to her side. She hugs him gently, ruffling up his light brown hair as she always does, holding her son close. I slowly edge down the hallway to the room that Beth passed in. The white room with all of the medical equipment, the tools and drawers of medical supplies. I watch Alexa come from the bathroom to the north of the room, carrying a porcelain bowl with a sponge floating on top.

"Oh…" she says softly, stopping when she sees me, then walking into the room again slowly, with more of an edge. I follow her into the room, standing in the corner. Beth is covered with a sheet, not an inch of her showing, but I know who it is under there. She sets the bowl down, along with the sponge on a rolling side table that she guides to her with her foot, and I watch as she slowly brings the sheet back. Her face is the same as her last breath. Her eyes are closed, the pale bluish lids weighted down over her eyes. Her lips are slightly opened, a slight gap between them, but they are tinted bluer than I remember. Alexa takes the large sponge with care after uncovering her body, first dabbing it at her face, then down her neck and so on. She is cleaning her off.

"Devil does most of the dirty work…" she says softly. "Seems like I do most of the cleaning up."

I don't reply, just watch her gently dab at my friend's skin with the soft brown, fluffy sponge. My eyes trail to the wall that is opposite of her, and I slowly take in the damage. The drywall looks completely destroyed, gouged out like it is a rotting shell of a wall. It is hard to believe that I did this because I have no recollection of the incident. I chew on my lip in the corner.

"Ever since we came to Espero, things sort of went… downhill. Everything spiraled out of control, people were dying all over the place. It got to the point where we didn't let anyone in the gates, unless it was urgent. And Devil tried to save every one of them. Every one that came in with a bite, a scratch. He thought that he could help them. That the drugs would work. One person after another died, and turned. We buried so many people we barely even knew. And I know he tried to save each one of them. I know in my heart, Paige, that he tried to save this girl."

A small sob escapes her delicate, thin pink lips, but I stay still in the corner. I bite my lip to keep myself together. What Devil did for Beth will never be good enough for me. When he took the tube out of her throat, he knew she would be suffocating to death. Alexa sugarcoating it isn't going to change what would have happened. We came to them for help, prosperity, for hope. "She was really sick when you got here. We didn't want to say anything. Devil always tries to install lots of espero in the people that come here; in any of his patients over the years. And he tries to install hope in me. Beth was a beautiful soul, Paige. Such a waste…"

She continues to run the sponge on her neck, gently dabbing at the wound from the tube that will never heal entirely. She tucks a piece of her hair gently behind her ear. I step closer to her, studying her features that have ceased to move forever. I train my eyes on her chest as if it might start moving again. I can still hear her voice in my ear. For some reason, I remember being in WalMart, and her telling me how she loved the smell of lipgloss. And that makes me think about the nail polish that she slipped into her bag.

"Maybe I could dress her in her favorite clothes." Alexa sighs softly in her elven voice, observing Beth's attire. This includes a pair of socks that are red with white and pink stars on them, and a gown that she had been redressed in a few days ago when Maggie had bathed her. I stand silent, my eyes training on the necklace still sitting on the side table. She notices. "Should I put this back on her?" I nod. "Alright." She unclasps the chain and slowly leans down, gently slipping the chain under her neck to clip it.

Suddenly, she screams as Beth grabs her arm. Her hand flashes forward so suddenly that I jump as well, and Beth slowly pulls herself up with Alexa's arm in her grip. Her fingers are still a slight blue color, along with the rest of her body. Around her eyes is a chalky gray color. She grabs for Alexa's hair that hangs in her face as she continues to scream. Beth's eyes are a coated-over yellow-gray color. As she struggles to pull the woman in, she keeps her eyes trained on her meal, hissing and gnashing her teeth. I scream at the sight of her, water still dripping off of her forehead from the sponge Alexa used to clean her off, and she snaps and groans deep in her throat. The stitches that were sewn into the incision of her throat from the tracheostomy start to rip open, her skin tearing, but she doesn't notice. Alexa pulls away, trying to get out of her grip, but Beth pushes her back into the windowsill. She hits her head and falls on the ground dazed as Beth turns to me.

Her eyes are empty, so hallow and harrowing, a sick blue-gray color. She is infected. She is one of them. A rotty. A walker. A geek. A carrier. She looks at me like I am her food, the only thing that will keep her satisfied. When I look into her eyes, I do not see Beth, I see a creature so much more horrifying. She keeps her eyes on me as she steps over Alexa who may be unconscious on the floor, never looking down at her socks shuffle on the cold tile. Her blonde hair falls in her face like a mop, she grates her teeth and bobs her head at me, snarling. I scream again, this time something actually coming out. Blood pours onto the gown she is wearing, soaking down the front with a crimson stain that looks like the scene from a chainsaw massacre movie. The neck wound tears more, and she holds her arm out to me, reaching with her long, bloody fingernails.

Wake up, Petey's voice rings in my head. Wake up, sis, and this'll all be over.

"Shut up!" I yell to him, backing away from Beth, into the wall. I knock over a shelf of medical supplies, toppling over onto me as I sob, observing Alexa still on the floor. Why is no one coming!

This is all a dream, honey. When you wake up, I'll be there.

"Petey? Petey, where are you?"

I'm right here. You know how to end this nightmare. His soft, velvet-like voice says, and I feel the weight of the pistol shoved into the side of my jeans. I pull it out and sob as I point it toward Walker-Beth. I aim for her head, my hands shaking so bad I can hardly believe I can even hold the gun up. Beth reaches for me, making a slight rasping noise, the chords in her throat visibly moving through the gushing, gory hole in her neck. "Beth, honey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," With tears running down my face, I pull the trigger, and she falls in a heap on the floor.

Rick appears in the doorway, along with Pepe, who must have heard my screaming. Devil runs to Alexa, who is still disoriented on the floor. I realize that this all happened in a matter of second, and they are just arriving. I still sob, my mouth hanging open that the somber scene ahead of me. Beth, in a pile on the ground in a contorted position, people piling in the room like hounds, sniffing me out. I drop the gun and fall to my knees, sobbing. Petey is not here, and this most certainly is not a dream. I cry over Beth's body, running my fingers through her hair as I hug her close to me.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh, fucking God, Beth, I am sorry." I sob to her, realizing that I have killed her for a second time. There is no response from her, as she lies motionless on the ground. Maggie appears in the doorway, her mouth hanging open in shock, and she turns into Glenn's shoulder, gasping for air. I sob, still on the ground and trying to revive Beth. But she is gone. She was already gone.

Hands try to grab for me, to pull me up off the body that I sob onto, but I won't let them. I cling onto Beth like my own life depends on it, screaming at the top of my lungs. I scratch whoever tries to grab me, punching, kicking, biting. I will not let them take me off of her. Finally, I lay in a collapsed heap on the floor. Beth, sweet Beth with soft blonde hair and pools of blue in her eyes is gone, and it is all my fault. I brush my fingers over the bullet wound in her head. This was not Beth. Beth was already dead. I sob and sob until I feel a soft hand on me, but this time, I let them pull me up. Tidan gently holds my head to his chest, stroking over my hair as I squint my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. I feel his chest heave, as he must have ran here, and I can hear his heart beating in his chest as he envelopes me. His slightly muscled biceps stay around me as he holds me up, his chin keeping my head on his chest. It feels like forever that he holds me like this, but in reality, it is only a few moments.

Hershel takes Maggie in his arms gently, comforting her. He has had to watch his daughter die twice today. It is a wonder the man is still on his feet, and Maggie is falling apart.

I was the one to kill her again. I was the one to re-end her. And I know that this is only the first of the horrors that will come. This is only the beginning. I know Beth wasn't scratched, or bitten. I watched Devil, Alexa, and Tidan check her body. She had not one scratch or bite, not anything of any kind. Yet she turned. She turned, and I am confused.

We stand around the now-covered hole that is so final that it makes my chest hurt. There is a small cross that has been built out of wood, planted in the ground and secured with sod that has been placed around the base. In the distance, I can see many of these crosses planted in the ground like seeds. I remember what Alexa had said about Devil trying to save many that came here, failing. I stare out at the rolling field and beautiful orchards that are littered with the crosses. There is a small cubical building in the distance that I can see as well, and the extra bunkers that are yet to be used. Small crosses dot the property.

Maggie stands beside me, her arm held by her father who has cleaned himself up a little for this. He wears a gray suit that fits him nicely, one that Pepe let him borrow, and Maggie wears her usual clothes. Olive had asked if she would like her to find us some funeral clothes, something black, but we didn't want to dress up in black. Beth wouldn't like that, Maggie said. She would have wanted us wearing normal clothes. So, I am dressed in one of the shirts that I took from WalMart, the emerald green button-up with the elbow length sleeves. It has been washed and ironed by Mya since I have been here, as all of our clothes have been. It has been hanging on the clothesline, so it feels starchy and stiff from flapping in the wind, but I will get used to the scratchy material after a while. Though it is slightly windy, the sun still shines down on the scarlet oak tree. It is a deep greenish-red color, not the scarlet I know it will turn next fall.

We slowly remove our hats at the request of Pepe, who stands closest to the cross. He removes his own as well, revealing a bald, wrinkled head, with graying black hair on the sides. I pull my hat off of my head and hold it in both of my hands as Glenn takes off his cap. Tidan stays closeby to me and I feel his hand slide to my wrist. I let it stay there.

"My family," Pepe looks to a small woman who is also olive-casted with crow's feet around her eyes, who I recall being named Rosia, and their one child who is a grown boy that towers over everyone accept maybe Devil. "Friends," he nods towards Olive, Mya, Vicki, and a few others who are grouped together. Olive wipes her eyes and Mya pats her shoulder. "And comrades," he looks at my group and myself, especially at Hershel and Maggie. Maggie has ceased crying for now and is between Glenn and Hershel, though her face is tearstained and her eyes are bloodshot and red. "Death is not an easy thing. Especially when we have pulled together in such a way to protect one another. But guilt is not the culprit here, no. People say that you do not know what you have until it is gone. This is not a truth, because you do know… you just never believe that you will lose it. Death leaves a heartache on all involved. But the love for this girl will leave a memory. A memory of how she lit up lives and made these dark days lighter.

"I did not know Beth… I didn't have the opportunity to engage with her, but with her family and friends around her I do know that she has been loved. Now, her soul seeks a brighter home, maybe a better place beyond this eccentric world. Kind friends, your care has shown through with Beth, and now she will exchange your friendship for others. May she stay safe, wherever she may be, and may she watch over us."

Rick clears his throat. "She was… a good friend, I know, to my son. And to the others around her. She would rather be sentenced to death than to hurt anyone." Lori, his wife, wraps her arm around his.

"Beth was like… a second child to me. I felt like I was her aunt…" she says, wiping the corner of her eye. "I pray that she did not go painfully. And that she is somewhere safe with others who are taking care of her."

Maggie tries to speak around her sobs. "My sister was the best friend I ever had… I know we fought, but when we were older… I know she would have done anything for me, and I – I would do anything for her, I –" she chokes and Hershel tightens his arm around her. He clears his throat, straightening the collar of his suit.

"I never thought I would lose someone else." Hershel says, and I can see the pain in his aged, wise eyes. I wonder how many others he has lost. All I know is that Maggie and Beth were the only ones he had when I came into the picture. "But I know – that she is in God's care now." Maggie turns her forehead to his.

Carol softly says kind words about Beth, though Daryl is silent as he stands beside the grave, shoving his hands in his pockets. Devil gives a small speech about how she fought for her life, how it was time for her to give up. I barely listen to him as my eyes blare with tears, making my vision blurry.

"Wait!" I say, a little too loudly, and my mouth all of the sudden feels dry. The eyes slowly train on me. "I have to say something about Beth…"

They all wait. I take a deep breath as Carl slips his hand into mine slowly. For some reason, I gain strength in this and lick my lips with my dry tongue. "I wanted her to live so badly. I never wanted anything more before. The thought of losing her was just unbearable to me when I took care of her in that van… I know she probably didn't feel the same way about me as I did about her, but I just – I… never wanted someone to live so badly. And I think my hope is what kept her running so long. And she never would have made it this far had Carl not taken such good care of her. We begged for her to live, and she did." I look down at Carl, tears streaming down my face. "I had hope when I shouldn't have, and I see the dangers of that now."

Carl squeezes my hand. "Yeah. She was my friend… and we took care of her. We begged her to live, and she listened, but…"

I rub my thumb over the surface of his hand. Maggie sobs and looks up from her father's shoulder. "Thank you."

I feel my cheeks flush red and the tears feel cold as they flow down my cheeks. Maggie lays a bouquet of flowers on the dirt of the grave that has just been covered up, placing her hand on the top of the wooden cross to steady herself. Glenn grabs her before she can collapse with sobs on her little sister's grave. Carl wraps his arms around me and I hug him softly, my chest heaving with sobs. "Carl, we tried, we did… we kept her going for long enough."

He slightly cries, trying not to. He doesn't want me to think he's a baby. "God will take care of her, Paige, He will."

I don't reply, because I still don't know how I feel about God.

I rifle in the beat-up messenger bag that has been pushed under Maggie's bed and left untouched. I find myself wondering if she kept it, or if I only made it up that she slipped it into her bag. I dump the entire contents out onto the floor, gritting my teeth and pawing through the contents of what is spilled out on the floor. I have no intention of taking any of these things that sprawl out on the concrete floor; a few pairs of jeans that are still dirty and unwashed, a couple of wrinkled shirts. I hold each of them up and study them. A couple are tank tops that are so nice and almost fancy for the clothes that she took for literally, the end of the world. I fold them sloppily and set them aside, folding a few long-sleeved shirts, and a few pairs of socks. As I pick up a scarf, a small bottle rolls out onto the floor, making a clack noise as it hits the concrete. I pick it up, finding what I was looking for.

Cobalt blue.

I uncap the bottle and let the fumes of the nail polish fill my nose as I hold the slick brush up to my nose. I then slide it over my thumb nail, painting it the vibrant blue color. Beth's favorite color. I paint my nails painstakingly slow, making each one of them perfect even though they are short and stubby. Then I wait for at least forty five minutes for them to dry. When I am satisfied, I pack the bag back up and slide it under Maggie's bed again, trying to make it the same as it was before.

Wind chimes tinkle in the wind as I hobble down the steps, feeling so stiff. Slowly, I walk behind the stable and stare out at the vast rolling hills of the fields and the orchards that are on Pepe's beautiful estate that literally feels like Heaven after what I have been through. I just can't stop thinking about how I heard Petey's voice before I shot Beth in the head when she was coming at me. How he said that if I just ended her, my nightmare would be over. I did not want to believe that my best friend was walking towards me, if it even was her at all. Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. But I know that I saw her die twice. A year ago, I wouldn't have thought this possible. But this is the world I live in now. A sick, twisted, demented world, where nothing makes sense and secrets are being kept from me, for whatever reason. And I kept secrets of my own.

The sun is slightly warmer than usual that I have noticed in the winter of South Carolina. It may even be more than seventy degrees. The sun shines on my face as I tip my head up towards the sky. The overcasting of the gray sky is mostly gone, displaying the deep majestic blue of the sky. I wonder if Beth really is up there, or if you don't really go anywhere when you die. Does God really take you for a reason, or is it all cruelty? Do people just die to cause pain? He makes me feel like I want to give up, that is what he does.

God works in strange ways, Petey once told me. He doesn't require you to succeed, Paige… he only requires you to try.

He's right. He does work in the strangest ways. Taking awayeveryone I start to care about. Petey. Beth. Who is next? Carl? Lori? I can't stand this any longer, waiting for Him to take away everyone that I come to care about. Why should I care about anyone at all?

Frustrated, I pace down by the orchard trees, where the plumb leaves trees quiver and flutter in the wind. I wander amongst them for what seems like hours, picking the plumpest plumbs and squishing the tough skin in between my teeth, and then gratefully tasting the soft flesh of the fruit inside that is a soft yellow-orange color. I squish the purplish skin in my blue fingernails, admiring the colors against each other, then spit the pit out on the ground for some bird to peck at, scuffing my boots on the ground as I sway through the trees upon trees. There are so many I could get lost in here. And maybe I want to.

I think about leaving. I think about finding my musket, and my knife that was confiscated from me when I stabbed the wall, or whatever happened. I could go out on my own again. There is nothing to drag me down now. If Beth was here, things may have been different. Maybe I would have a reason to stay, to care for a friend. Maybe then, I would tell myself that they wanted me here. That possibly, I had a reason to stay. I tell myself that I could go, walk down that dirt road, past the gate that I so desperately wanted open, but now want closed behind me.

Leaving would certainly solve a lot of my problems. Maybe if I increase the distance from all of this, everything will just fall into play and things can go back to normal. I can forget about this. I remember the feelings I had when I first got here. Just as the name of the place implied, while I was alive, I was hoping. Now, I am alive. And hope seems to have run so thin that it is stretched out over a drum head.

Sighing, I push myself up off the ground, the heels of my boots squishing in the sod as I use the soles of my feet to hold my weight. I pace again through the trees, camouflaging myself in the foliage of the fruit trees like when I was younger and I used to play Power Rangers with the other kids, pretending I was am the most stealthy of ninjas and not even the most skilled can see me. That is how I feel now. Like no one can see me, and I like it that way. Maybe if no one can see me, then I can be invisible again. it isn't difficult to hide myself. I have done it for months at a time. Faded into the woodwork, eventually just faded away altogether. All my life, that is what I have truly been trying to do.

I pick another plump plumb and sink my teeth into it, sucking the succulent flesh out as I study the pallet that is imbedded in the purple skin. My ears snap to attention at the sound of a soft howl in the distance. I don't know if there are wolves in South Carolina, or why they would be this close. I am pretty sure that Pepe said that the property was secure and the animals that were here were harmless. Shrugging, I walk amongst the leaves again, thinking. Then, I hear padding feet a few rows of trees over. There is a deep snarl, and I suddenly feel the impulsive need to run. I do so, the squished plumb carcass still in my hand as I turn and run head over heels.

Quick vexing paws thud behind me, from somewhere, and I suddenly feel like I am in a sci-fi film where the aliens are chasing the helpless main character. Reflexively, I reach for the pouch on my hip that holds my knife, but it is not there, and neither is the gun that is usually slung over my shoulder. With nothing to protect myself, all I can do is run from whatever creature is my pursuer.

A large darkened figure leaps into my path, and the scream escapes my lips. A large black dog with large shaggy wolf-like ears lowers its head at me, growling with its pale tongue on the roof of its mouth. Another larger dog with muscled flanks and a stout body growls at me, its seemingly gigantic paws planted firmly in the ground as it threatens to lunge. Having no idea what to do, and not being a fan of dogs in the first place, I throw the squished plumb in my hand at them. They hardly move a muscle, their wild eyes trained on me. Backing away, they come closer as well, keeping their heads low as they stalk me, their prey. I had no idea that the end may come to me by a few wild dogs in a world like this. Then again, God apparently has a sick sense of humor.

Just as I am sure the hounds are about to lunge, a figure steps into view. The face is shadowed by the dimming light and the gray ghosts of the crooked tree branches, but I can see that it is tall, dark, and the only thing I can really see is a ring of smoke puffing above what looks like the head. My sticky hands drip with the fruit slime as I back away, the dogs not retreating.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

Well, I would like to thank the ones who have stayed with me this long! I have the next couple of chapters planned out, so maybe you are in for a pretty quick update! Let me know what you think, and leave a review please! Any suggestions, or things you think I should change, please pm! And thanks again, Rainbow! You da bomb!