Four more days! Ahh! Here's the new chapter. ENJOYY!

61: If I Die Tonight, Then I Guess I Die Tonight.

I don't know how long I'd been hanging there, how long I'd spent screaming myself into silence, how long I'd struggled against the ropes, or even when I'd lost my voice and my will; I couldn't keep track of time anymore. It all blended in my head. All I could do is wheeze out breaths and fade in and out of consciousness. All I could think of was the pain and the hunger and those eyes. This is what feeling broken is like. This is what I'd been so keen on avoiding. This is what I was now.

"Oh Annie," I opened my eyes to see that all too familiar faceless man standing just in front of me. Death. Death himself. Death had finally come for me, and this time it wasn't a dream. He looked the same, the nice suit that seemed to be made of a black hole itself, the flawless hairdo, and the sleek and elegant frame. He looked the same, and yet he looked vastly different now. Now he was all there, not some undulating mist. Now he was real. I stared at him as his head tilted up and down as though he was scanning me, "Look what they did to you."

"So, this is it?" I let out a tired but manic laugh, "This is my end?"

"Maybe," he sat down sideways in the chair, still looking at me with that empty face, "Nothing is set in stone though, not for you. There's still a chance that things will go well and you will get to live."

My voice came back courser, harsher, "Then why are you even here?"

"I knew you needed to talk. And you shouldn't be alone anyway," there was his uncanny sweetness, "Not now." I believed his words, their kindness. He was here simply to keep me company, provide me with some sort of comfort.

"I thought you said dependence was pathetic?"

"Not now," I could hear the sorrow in his voice, "No, this time you need a soft place to land, I'd say."

I sighed, closing my eyes and nodding, my whole body rocking back and forth as the rope tightened, "Thank you." I opened my heavy lids and looked to him, "Maggie? Glenn?"

"I haven't met them yet, no." It was an honest relief. They were still alive. They were still out there, somewhere, with their hearts beating. I might have bought them enough time.

"Good," the creaking of the metal hook returned.

"It's safe to say we are not the monsters anymore, Annie." He scanned me once more, "That man is a monster. This is unforgivable."

I couldn't hold it together, not another second, not now. I started whimpering, "I hurt." I did. Swinging there, exposed, bleeding, ruined, every inch of me hurt, and I felt so sick. Everything that had happened to me before, all the bad things combined, it didn't compare to this. This was bottom. This was the absolute bottom. This was bottom, and I'd die here.

"I know," he was inches away in a flash, that abyss staring directly into my soul with such candor, "I wish I could make it stop." I believed him. I could see it in how he stood, in how his words flowed out of him and dove onto me. It didn't help. It was a sweet condolence, but it didn't help what I was feeling.

The tears kept coming, accompanied by my pulsing sobs, "I-I don't want to be here anymore." I sucked in a deep breath, feeling the pinch at my side, "I want to go home."

"I know."

My wall came tumbling down: my wall of maturity, my wall of strength, my wall of adulthood. All that was gone. I was back to being a child. The hard shell had been pried off of my soft center; I was back to needing nurturing arms around me. Needing someone to nurse me back to health with love. With a mother's love. It came out in a whisper at first, "I miss my mom. I miss my mom." I repeated the phrase over and over and my words went through the slow metamorphosis before turning into a full-blown wail, "I want my mommy."

"I know." Through the mist of my tears I could see his hand reach up to my face, reach up but not touch. He couldn't touch me, not here. "I know you do."

"Do I get," I took a deep breath, trying to grasp at something real, trying to grasp at anything, "Do I get out of here?"

"I can't tell you that, sweetie." That meant only one thing to me. The end. I knew it. I don't leave here. That's fine. That doesn't matter. Not anymore.

The corner of my mouth curved up slightly, "But Glenn and Maggie, they're okay?"

"Yes."

I allowed myself to smile through the stream, "Good."

"Can I ask you something?" I opened my eyes, giving the smallest of nods as to not move the rest of me, "Was it really worth it? What he did, was it worth enduring all that suffering just to keep them safe?"

"Yes," I didn't hesitate. There was no doubt in my mind that I'd made the right move. If all that meant their lives then it was fine. I could handle it, for them. Then a nagging question came to mind, a question I was scared of asking but needed to know the answer to, "Will I need to - will it happen again?"

"No," his answer rang through the air as I saw him nod, "Never again. I won't let it."

"Good." I sighed before the tears came again. I wouldn't be able to get through it again. I wouldn't be able to make it through again. I felt the tears drop off my jaw, "I don't think I could. I don't think I can again."

"You won't have to," his voice was soft, "Why don't we talk about something else?"

I looked up at him, "I want my mom." I began to snivel, "I want her to hold me again, like she used to." The swaying started up, "I want her to tell me it'll be okay."

The tender tone returned, "I can tell you that, if you'd like?" I looked back to him, "It'll all be okay, Annabelle."

It didn't help. I knew it wasn't true. I knew that it wasn't going to all be okay, not for me. Not anymore. I was stuck here. It wasn't okay. I'd never again have motherly arms around me. I'd never again have someone look after me, tuck me in, bring me soup in bed when I didn't feel well. I'd never have someone kiss my scrapes and tell me that no one would hurt me again, that there was nothing hiding around the corner, that it was safe. I'd never have that again. I'd never have that or the blue eyes. I'd never have anything again. I let out a low wheeze, "I'm dying."

"Don't say that," his tone had the strangest level of worry to it. It reminded me of how I felt about the group. My new family, my old family, both of whom filled me with anxiety. That same emotion that was radiating off of my unlikely friend. His voice lightened, "Let's talk about something else. Why don't we talk about Joey?"

Joey. My very best friend. I started to convulse as I gasped for breaths between the now violent sobs, "I miss him, too." I could picture him so clearly. The cowlick on the left side of his hairline and the way that his right eye twitched ever so slightly when he was lying, I could see it all. My brother. My other half. I'd get to see him again soon, if I was lucky enough to make it to heaven. I looked up at my polished companion, "I wish he was here."

"Drat," he sighed, his shoulders dropping, showing clearly that he was struggling with something under that empty face of his, "I'm going to be honest with you, I don't really do this sort of thing."

"I thought," I let out a worn-out laugh, "this was your job?"

He shook his head, "Taking people is my job. I don't normally sit and chat."

Another laugh, "Then why start now?"

"Because we're friends, Annie." I locked my eyes on his vacant face. It didn't seem so empty now, even without any of the things that normally made faces what they are. His face was his own; his face was so plainly loving. His face seemed to hold the entire universe inside of it, if I could only see it clearly, see through it then I'd know all there was to know. He hovered his hand above my cheek, "Because from the second I met you those years ago on that hunting trip I knew you were different from the rest of the lot."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Hunting trip?"

He dipped his head, "The first one, with your father and Joseph." He clarified, "When I took the deer I saw you."

It took a minute before his words soaked in through the haze of the pain. He was there that day, the day of my first kill? "You're just a," I shook my head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, "hallucination."

"No, Annie, I'm very real," I watched as he turned the metal chair around for him to sit properly, I even heard it screech as it grinded against the concrete floor, "See?"

"But how?"

I got the impression of a smile, "Trade secrets, I'm afraid."

I spoke frantically, realizing the potential escape, "Then why don't you help me?"

He held up his hands, "I can't intervene. It's one of the rules."

I raised my voice, "Screw the rules. Get me down from here."

"I wish I could," he chuckled but there was some form of regret behind it, "I really do." I kept staring at him, praying he'd change his mind, but he didn't move.

I let out another wheeze, "So I'm special?"

"I'd say so," he held out his arms in exaggeration, "Unique enough to make Death himself care about you." I rolled my eyes, "Come now, is it that strange of a thought?"

"Death doesn't care," I scoffed, "Death just takes."

"Normally I'd say you're right," he didn't seem at all offended by my accusations. He seemed to even smile as he stood once more, both hands caressing the air on either side of my face, "But not in this case, not in your case. You're special to me." Was it true? Did he care? He was here, wasn't he? He was with me when I needed him. Before today he had helped me, guided me. He was a friend. A true friend. He didn't judge me, he just wanted to help ease this suffering. He just wanted to help me. He was here. He was all I had now. He was the only one here with me at the end. I started crying again. The tremors rolled through me, and I knew there was nothing left in me. "Let it out," he encouraged me, "Let it all out."

"Does he get his?" my mind snapped back to the present as the sadness flowed out of me, "The Governor?"

"My dear," there was an air of mischievousness to his next phrase, "I'm planning a very special trip just for him."

I pointed my face at him, unable to see, "Does he suffer?"

"I can't say that for sure," his voice turned maniacal, "But he will once I get my claws on him. I'm very much looking forward to that day. I hope you can find some solace in that."

My voice matched his depravity, "I do."

"You might get out of here, you know." He sounded legitimately hopeful. Maybe he wasn't lying before, maybe it wasn't set in stone?

I couldn't keep that hope from coming through, "Will I?"

"No part of you has died here yet, let me make that perfectly clear to you."

I sighed, "It feels that way." It did. It felt like a bulldozer had come through and ripped me to pieces. I would never be whole again. Never.

"You had bad breaks here, several of them," I sensed a smile from him, "But nothing that can't be mended."

"Don't," I hissed, "I know that's a lie." I looked down, glimpsing the pool of blood and tears that had formed beneath my feet, "If by some miracle I do get out of here I'll never be the same."

We stayed silent for a while before his smooth words returned, "I wish it wasn't so."

I didn't look to him, "I know."

"Any requests for what I do to him?" an edge of cheer echoed in his words.

"No," I sighed. "Wait," I snapped up, staring directly into the void, "He never gets to her, he never gets to Penny."

"Consider it done." I smiled widely, wider than I'd thought possible now, "There she is, there's my girl. How about I tell you about the first time we met, what it was like on my end?"

I laughed, "Sure that's not against your rules?"

He took his seat again, wiping off his pant leg, "I know for a fact that it isn't."

I rasped, "Fine."

"Well, mind you I did have quite a busier schedule back then. As it is more life means more deaths and a full docket," I could almost see the nostalgia in his demeanor, "I would have never had time for this sort of thing back then, but it appears that now I do. But back to the story; it was just a simple hunting grab, deer, relatively peaceful when they go, especially that one." He tapped where his eye would have been, "Clear shot, if I recall correctly. A painless death."

I felt an odd sort of relief then. After all this time that first kill had this weight over me, even now. I'd hoped it was painless, but I couldn't have known for sure. Until now. Now I did. And now that weight was gone, "Good."

"Quite," he continued in a conversational tone, "I took him and I remember distinctly hearing crying. It was out of place for that sort of taking, and unlike anything I'd heard before, and I've heard plenty of wails in my day." He shifted his weight, "I paused then, between jobs, and I stood beside you."

"I don't remember seeing you."

"I don't often show myself to people that are still alive," he ran his hand through his ebony locks, "Recently you have been my exception." He continued on, "As I stood there, seeing your guilt and shame, how horribly torn apart you were by such a humane kill, I knew you were different. For starters it was the first time I'd ever felt anything for a human." I took in the gravity of what he'd said. Death, who'd been round since the very beginning, only first felt compassion for one of us measly creatures the day he met me. "Since then I'd been fascinated by you, so naturally when the time came for your family to pass on I was there early. Joey wrote that note just in time; I'd warned him, subtly. Then your parents. I took them and then I watched. It was so intriguing, watching you like that. It was plain as day, how much you loved them, your pain. I could even feel it, just barely." His head fell slightly, as though he was examining his fingernails, "I'd never felt anything before, you know. It was quite a shock. Made me wonder about certain truths I'd known. It even made me wish I could give them back to you. I'd never wished that sort of thing before that day."

It was difficult to hear, but something about it didn't bother me. It was like he was sharing this intimate detail from his own life, and I was the one who got to hear it. On some level I felt honored. "It's just your job," I tried to shrug, but instead I just wiggled in the air, "Right?"

"Yes, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with, darling." He sighed, "Then there was that day that you were bit; I was eager to grab you. I wanted to finally talk to you, I was - to turn a phrase- dying to know what made you different." He held up his hands in an attempt to display an echo of his displeasure, "But you didn't die."

"You're talking to me now though?" even I could hear the confusion in my voice, "And in the dreams?"

"After combing the rulebook in my newly gained free time I found a loophole," the impression of a smile came across the gap, "And now I know."

My voice was now nothing more than a whisper, "What do you know?"

"This virus has changed everything," he waved at the air, before leaning forward, "Everything but us."

"I'm not the same," I shook my head slightly, protesting his words.

"But you are," his voice was animated now, "I've watched you carefully, sweetheart. You've had to kill again, and again and yet you still react the same way. You still feel the same way you felt for that deer."

"No I don't."

"Tsk tsk tsk," his finger wagged at me, "You're much better at hiding it, yes, but you can't hide anything from Death, dear."

"That doesn't mean I'm the same." He shrugged just before I croaked out, "What about the hunger?"

"Hunger is a natural thing. Everyone gets hungry, even you got hungry before all of this I'm sure." He paused, searching for the words, "I'd consider your little condition a kind of growing up. At your core you as still that very same girl who cried in that forest."

"I'll" I looked down again. Down at my now broken body. Down at the shell. I let out a whisper, "I'll never be the same now."

"What happened here was an abomination," he stood up, noticeably livid as he paced.

The pain flared, the tears, all of it as I squeaked out two words, "I'm broken."

His rage filled the room entirely for a brief moment. Then he looked at me; he looked at me and I could feel I was not alone in my suffering. "I know," he stood beside me again, "I know, and it pains me to see." His hand appeared beneath my chin, as though he wanted to lift mine up, "But when something breaks the pieces are still intact; you are still all there. We just need to put those pieces back together."

I looked into the nothingness, feeling for the first time that I wasn't strong enough, not for this. I would never be strong enough to mend this, "I don't think I can."

"It'll take time, but that's nothing to get discouraged about. You'll get there, Annie."

"I don't have time," I'd have been screaming if my voice hadn't already left me, "I'm going to die here! There is no putting myself back together! This is how I die!"

He shook his head, "Don't say such things." His face came closer, only an inch away with a voice like sugared honey, sweet but smooth, "Eventually those pieces will fall back in place and you will be yourself once more. You have to."

"Stop!" There was no avoiding it, not any longer. I wouldn't walk out of here. I would die today. I'd die and that was fine. Maggie and Glenn were safe. I did my job. I squeezed my eyes shut as I started choking on my cries, "I know - I'm dying - down here."

I heard faint yells come from the crack under the door, or maybe I was imagining it? My eyes snapped open and I saw I was alone again. I was alone, but I could hear something in the distance. Gunfire? Was that gunfire? I couldn't tell anymore as the darkness flooded the corners of my vision.

There you have it! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Only one more chapter before Sunday! :)))

Question Time: What do you think will happen in the next chapter? Who will save Annie, or will anyone save her? Can she even make it out of Woodbury and back to the prison in her mangled state? How will her conversation with Death affect her, or will it at all? If she gets back to the prison how will the others treat her (including Tyrese and the new people)? And lastly, how brutal do you think will Annie be towards the Woodbury 'soldiers?'

Can't wait to read your reviews/thoughts! Seriously, they make me write more (obviously). :)))