The hallway seemed to stretch into oblivion, bathed in an eerie, dim light that flickered like a dying candle. Shadows danced menacingly on the walls, creating grotesque shapes that twisted and turned with each flicker. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the oppressive silence.

A baby's cry pierced the darkness, a haunting, desperate sound that spurred me forward. My legs moved mechanically, each step heavy with dread. The air was thick with the stench of decay, making it hard to breathe. As I turned a corner, a walker lunged at me, its rotting teeth bared. I fought it off, my hands trembling as I drove a knife into its skull. Blood sprayed, warm and sticky, as the walker collapsed at my feet.

But there was no time to rest. More walkers emerged from the shadows, their grotesque forms shuffling towards me. I could feel their teeth sinking into my flesh, each bite a searing pain that radiated through my body. Blood oozed from the wounds, but I couldn't stop. I had to reach the baby.

My vision blurred as I stumbled through the hallway, the cries growing louder and more desperate. Each door I passed seemed to lead to nowhere, adding to my frustration and fear. Finally, I saw a door slightly ajar, light spilling out from the room beyond.

I pushed the door open, my breath hitching as I stepped inside. The room was small, with peeling wallpaper and a single crib in the center. The cries were deafening now, echoing off the walls. I staggered towards the crib, my body screaming in pain with each step.

With trembling hands, I reached out, expecting to find a baby inside. But the crib was empty. The cries stopped abruptly, leaving an oppressive silence that pressed down on me like a weight. I collapsed to the floor, tears mingling with blood as I sobbed uncontrollably.

Walkers closed in around me, their growls growing louder as they sensed my vulnerability. I was too weak to fight back, my body broken and battered. As they descended upon me, I felt their teeth tear into my flesh, the pain excruciating and overwhelming. My vision darkened, the world fading into a void of despair and pain.

I jolted awake, my body drenched in sweat, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to my consciousness like a shroud. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I gasped for breath, the cries of the phantom baby still echoing in my ears. The early morning light filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room. I ran a trembling hand through my damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering terror.

Breathing heavily, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached under it. My fingers found the hidden bottle of whiskey. I pulled it out, annoyed at how little was left. With a resigned sigh, I took the last sip, feeling the burn as it went down. I tossed the empty bottle back under the bed and stood up, walking over to the window.

Woodbury was coming to life outside. Residents bustled about, starting their morning routines, filling the streets with a semblance of normalcy. It was almost laughable, this charade of a peaceful community. They were playing pretend, acting like the horrors lurking just beyond the walls didn't exist.

From my vantage point, I could see the children running, people chatting, and even a few vendors setting up their stalls. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and fear I had been living with for so long. This place, with its enforced calm and order, felt both a refuge and a prison.

Merle had saved my life with Phillip, who now goes by the Governor. Back then, they were a small group, trying to build some semblance of a new world here in Woodbury. For some reason, Merle had taken pity on me. Maybe it was the shared experience of abandonment by the same people. He and the Governor protected me as I got nursed back to health from my harrowing times on the road.

It was during this time that I met Dr. Stevens. She was the one who confirmed what I feared most—I had miscarried. The news was a punch to the gut, and I found it hard to get a grip on my mental health since then. I resented everything about the situation. I resented the fact that I had been weak, that I hadn't been able to protect my unborn child. I resented Glenn for not being there, and I resented myself for blaming him. The grief and anger festered inside me, eating away at any semblance of the optimistic person I used to be.

As the months went by, I tried to find myself amid the chaos, but I eventually gave up on the hope of finding Glenn. Merle and I had scoured every possible lead, but it felt like chasing ghosts. Each fruitless search pushed me closer to the brink, tempting me to fall back into my old habits. The memories of Glenn and our life together were now distant echoes, haunting me and making me question my choices.

Woodbury had grown into a bustling community under the Governor's strict leadership. My role in the community was crucial, yet I struggled to feel truly connected. My daily routine became a relentless cycle: wake up, get ready, check-in, and then fulfill my duties as a soldier. Protecting the seventy-something residents of Woodbury was my primary focus, but it was hard to ignore the hollow feeling that gnawed at me.

I had become a shadow of my former self, the once hopeful and optimistic person now buried under layers of cynicism and darkness. The miscarriage had left a deep scar, a wound that festered with each passing day. The pain of losing a child I never knew I had only fueled my descent into despair. The bottle had been my refuge for months, and though I was trying to stay sober now, the cravings never truly went away.

Merle had been an unexpected ally. Our shared experience of abandonment had forged a bond between us. He and the Governor had saved my life, and in return, I had committed myself to the safety and growth of Woodbury. But the scars ran deep, and every morning was a battle to find the strength to face another day.

Life in Woodbury was a haze. The routines blurred together, and the weight of my past bore down on me. The community saw me as a pillar of strength, but inside, I was crumbling. The days were long, the nights even longer, and every moment was a struggle to keep going. I had to believe that there was a reason for all of this, that somehow, there was a purpose to my suffering.

As I peered out the window, my eyes settled on my little brother, Kristopher, striding confidently towards my apartment. Months ago, on a desperate run beyond Woodbury's walls, I stumbled upon him. He was a shell of the boy I remembered, barely surviving the horrors of the outside world. The instant I recognized him, something snapped inside me. This wasn't just survival anymore; it was about protecting the one piece of family I had left.

This was his routine, checking on me every morning or afternoon depending on my shift at the wall. His face had matured, the boyish charm now replaced with a man's strength. His curly hair framed a strong jawline and confident eyes. He looked older, more responsible, and it was strange how our roles had reversed. He had taken it upon himself to keep me mentally stable, while my drive was to keep him physically safe. Every interaction with him filled me with pride but also reminded me of our fragile balance, how he had become my anchor, and how I needed to be his protector.

I made sure the bottle was fully hidden before rushing to get dressed. My small apartment, though modest, was a haven compared to the chaos outside Woodbury's walls. It was furnished with remnants of the old world: a soft bed with real sheets, a wooden table with mismatched chairs, and a small kitchenette with running water and electricity. These real-world items tethered everyone here to what once was, offering a semblance of normalcy amidst the apocalypse.

The soft hum of the refrigerator and the flicker of a functioning light bulb were luxuries I could have never imagined having again when I was out there, fighting for every breath. Woodbury was safe and had everything I could ever need, but none of it mattered. None of it really made me happy. All of it was mine, but I found little joy in these comforts.

As I walked around my apartment, straightening up and getting dressed, I thought about my brother. He was the only thing that mattered to me now. He was the reason I got up every day, the reason I tried to stay sober, the reason I continued to fight. I glanced at the clock, knowing he would be knocking on my door any minute now, announcing his arrival with that familiar pattern of taps I had grown to anticipate every morning.

Just on time, Kris' special knock echoed through the door. I opened it to see his familiar, grinning face. "Morning, sleepyhead," he teased, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

"Morning, pest," I shot back, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, giving me a quick once-over, probably checking for signs of another rough night.

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Fine. You?"

"Like a baby," he lied, probably as much as I was. "What's the plan for today?"

I sighed, knowing what was coming next. "Not sure yet. Maybe some patrol, help around."

"Uh-uh," he interrupted, wagging his finger at me. "You're coming with me to the diner for breakfast. No arguments. You need to get out more."

I groaned, but I knew he was right. Plus, I couldn't say no to him. "Fine, fine. Just let me grab my stuff."

I equipped myself with my usual weapons, passing by the mirror on my way out. I paused for a moment, glancing at my reflection. My hair had grown longer, now hanging at my waist, and my previously thin body was muscular, strong. I stood tall, a far cry from the girl who had wandered into Woodbury months ago.

"Ready?" Kris asked, his tone a mix of concern and impatience.

"Yeah, let's go," I replied, forcing a smile.

We walked through Woodbury's bustling streets, Kris greeting everyone with his infectious energy. It was clear he thrived here, enjoying the sense of community. Meanwhile, I felt more like an outsider, despite being a key part of keeping this place safe.

"Hey, Elise!" I called out to one of our town's medics, part of my daily check-in to ensure everyone was alive and well.

"Morning, Majesty. How you holding up?" Elise asked, her eyes scanning me with genuine concern.

"Same old," I replied with a half-smile. "Anything I need to know?"

"All good. Just keep doing what you're doing."

As we continued towards the makeshift mess hall, Kris was in his element, exchanging jokes and stories with nearly everyone we passed. It was like he was the town's unofficial mayor, while I played the role of the brooding guardian.

We finally got our servings and sat down, Kris diving into his food with gusto. "I'm getting better with my aim," he said between bites. "Hayley says I'm a natural."

"That's great," I replied, genuinely happy for him. "You keep practicing and you'll be the best shot in Woodbury."

He grinned, then turned the conversation towards me. "How's the bo staff training going?"

I paused, reflecting on the hours I'd spent with the staff. It had become my lifeline, a way to ground myself and channel my energy as I fought through the haze of sobriety. "It's going well. Keeps me focused. I think I want to put a knife on the end or something."

"Scary," he said simply, shoveling eggs into his mouth. Then, he looked at me with a serious but warm expression. "You know, you've been looking better lately," he said, his tone sincere. "Getting up on time, smiling more. It's good to see."

I shrugged, trying not to show how much his words meant to me. "I'm just doing what I need to do," I replied, my tone flat.

"Well, it's working," he said, his smile unwavering. "I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, thanks," I muttered, not wanting to delve into my feelings.

He reached across the table, placing a hand on mine. "I mean it. You're doing great."

I pulled my hand away, focusing on my food. "Let's just eat, okay?"

Kris sighed but didn't push further. "Alright. But just know I'm here for you, always."

"How many times do I have to remind you that I'm the big sister? Stop worrying."

Kris shook his head, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "It makes me more nervous when you talk like that."

I rolled my eyes, finishing my food and pushing the plate aside. "I'm here, I'm alive—you're here, you're alive. That's all that matters."

"But we can have a real life now. You can have a real life."

"I'm not gonna move on from five years of my life in a few months," I said dryly, my irritation growing. It was true, I had met Glenn at eighteen, spent two years with him as a friend before we dated for three years. Moving on from that without even having received any closure felt impossible.

Kris sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know, but... I just want you to be happy."

"Happy?" I let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure that's in the cards for me, Kris."

"Don't say that," he pleaded, leaning forward. "You deserve it, Maj. You really do."

I looked away, staring at the bustling activity around us. "Deserve has nothing to do with it," I muttered. "It's just how things are now."

Kris reached out, touching my arm gently. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, okay?"

I nodded, but the weight of my past and the uncertain future felt heavier than ever. "Yeah," I replied softly, not trusting myself to say more.

I noticed Phillip approaching from the corner of my eye, his face expectant. I looked at Kristopher, trying to lighten the mood by playfully handing him my plate. "Clean up."

"Clean up," he mocked, grabbing the plates and walking to dump them. As he left, Phillip approached, standing over me.

"Some of the guys are going out to look again at the biter trap Milton came up with."

"I don't really want to do that."

"I'm just coming to tell you that I need you on the wall until they get back unless you had other plans."

"Nope, I can do it."

Phillip leaned in slightly, his voice softening. "You know, if you ever did need to make some plans, you can always stop by."

I forced a smile, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. "What kind of plans?"

"I could really use your opinions on some of the things going on around here, get you back as a functioning member."

I laughed, "I feel like I'm functioning pretty well, no?"

He smiled widely at me, "Barely see you anymore, miss the view."

Phillip had always had a peculiar interest in me. Sometimes he would flirt, his charm turned up to the max, and other times, he'd act as if I didn't exist. His advances ranged from subtle compliments to overt suggestions, but I always managed to deflect them without outright rejection. It was a delicate balance—keeping the Governor at arm's length while maintaining my place in Woodbury. I appreciated his protection and the role he'd given me, but I couldn't let myself be drawn into his complicated world. My focus was on surviving and protecting my brother, not navigating the murky waters of the Governor's intentions. I could never quite pin down what he wanted from me. Despite his attention, I never felt any real attraction to him—or anyone else, for that matter.

"I'll try to come around more, for your sake," I said plainly, trying anything to satisfy him. Phillip left just as Kristopher returned. Kris watched him walk away, a playful smirk forming on his face. "You know, I'd love to see you become the first lady of Woodbury," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, adjusting the bag slung over my shoulder. "Yeah, right. Like I'd want that kind of responsibility."

Kris chuckled, "Think of the perks, though. It might finally give me some authority around here."

I laughed along with him, but inside, the thought of such a role made me cringe. The idea of being tied to the Governor in any capacity was more than I could bear. I preferred the relative anonymity and freedom my current role provided. "I got to get to the wall," I said, shaking off the lingering discomfort. "Duty calls."

Kris hugged me, tapping my back as he said his goodbyes to go do his own thing. I watched him walk away before starting the climb onto the wall. As I reached the top, I glanced back and saw him charming one of the random teen girls in town. I snorted at that; he had always been a little player since he was 15. It made me happy every time I watched him being normal, glad one of us could remain positive and optimistic with the challenges we faced every day.

Seeing the wasteland outside kept me grounded, reminding me of where I had come from and what was really going on beyond these walls. I was grateful for what we had built here, but I couldn't let myself forget the reality of the world we lived in. The citizens of Woodbury might find comfort in pretending everything was normal, but I couldn't afford that luxury.

The difference between the lively inside of Woodbury and the barren wasteland outside was stark. Standing on the wall, looking out at the empty expanse beyond, was both a blessing and a curse. Being alone with my thoughts allowed me to escape the hustle and bustle of the town, but it also brought back the memories I tried so hard to suppress.

Every time I found myself alone, intrusive thoughts crept back into my mind. The loss of my baby, the memories of my life before, and most importantly, Glenn. I had to force those thoughts out of my head daily to avoid spiraling out of control. Something deep within me told me he was still out there, alive and fighting, maybe even looking for me. Whatever it was, I hoped he was happier than me and doing better than I could ever imagine to be.

The sun was climbing higher, casting long shadows over the town. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Another day of survival, of pretending, of keeping it together for Kris and the people of Woodbury. It was a constant battle, but it was one I had to fight. For now, I would focus on the present and do what I needed to do to keep going.