Original (Paul Rovia)

One

When Aaron told me that he brought a new group, I didn't know what to expect. When I imagine people that've been out in the open since the beginning of this whole thing, I see battle-hardened soldiers. Men and women that are feral and unable to reconnect to society. Strong. Smart. The exact opposite of me.

But that's not what these people are. At all. Sure, all of them seem wary of this place, but that's to be expected. There's a baby. A baby. Something that I haven't seen since before this all happened.

They all walk in one big group. They don't like being separated from each other, but Deanna still makes them choose their own houses. I make a note of a man with a long beard, the man with the baby. He's definitely the leader. He chooses a house right next to Charlotte and I's.

And of course, because I feel obligated to, I decide to introduce myself. There's a boy with him, no older than Charlotte. I assume that it's his son. When I walk up to them, I see the man go stiff, holding his baby closer to his chest. "Whoa, where's the fire?" I joke, but they don't seem to appreciate the humor.

"Who are you?" the man demands.

"I'm uh, I'm Ronan. Ronan Walsh. My sister and I live next door. Welcome to Alexandria."

The man nods, slowly reaching out to shake hands. "I'm Rick. Grimes."

"Nice to meet you, Rick. That your daughter?"

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "Judith. My son is Carl."

"Hi Carl," I offer.

The teen just stares me down, offering a soft sound of greeting. "Well," I say. "I don't want to be a bother. I just wanted to introduce myself. Hope you all get settled in okay. If you need anything, I'm two doors down from you. And... well, this might be a little weird... but I was a tattoo artist before all of this happened, and I've still got my stuff. So if anyone in your group wants to..."

Rick has a look in his eyes that I can identify as humor, but I can tell I'm just annoying him. "Anyway," I say, more to myself than them. "I'm gonna go. Enjoy your stay."

"Be seeing you, Ronan," Rick nods.

He turns away from me, taking Carl by the shoulder. They walk into their house, leaving me on the street. "Great," I mutter. "I am a walking ball of anxiety. Perfect first impression, Ronan. Really. Great job."

I continue this berate of insults on myself all the way back to my house. When I get back, I find Charlotte, draped over the couch and reading a book. "What's up?" I ask.

She shrugs. "You meet the new people?"

"Yeah," I say.

I sit next to her, shoving her further onto her side of the couch. "There's a guy your age. Name's Carl."

"Okay."

"Well, I know there's not many people your age here. Ron and Enid, yeah. Couple of others. But this kid seemed... interesting," I offer.

"Are you trying to get me a friend or a boyfriend?"

"What?!"

Charlotte smirks, glancing in my direction. "You're not very subtle. What about you, did you find any friends and or boyfriends?"

"I met three people, Char. One of them was like fourteen. One was a baby. And the other was honestly terrifying."

She chuckles, closing her book. "You might find someone else. But you really need someone to hang out with someone other than me."

"What's so bad about me wanting to hang out with my little sister?"

"It's pathetic, Ronan."

I roll my eyes, pressing play on the movie I was watching earlier. "You're pathetic."

Charlotte and I's dynamic is full of back and forth insults, and it's more than a little sad how used to it I am.

We sit on the couch for a while. Charlotte finishes off the movie and goes to her room, and I grab my art supplies and settle down at the kitchen table. I start sketching, fading off into my own little world of my drawings.

It only dawns on me that it's night time when Charlotte comes downstairs, dressed in her pajamas. "What the hell are you doing?" she asks.

I let out a yawn, standing slowly. "I don't know. And don't say hell. You're only fourteen."

"You're not my dad."

"I'm as close as your getting to one."

She rolls her eyes. "Go to bed, Ronan. It's nine."

I nod. "Yeah," I agree. "Yeah, okay. I'll go to bed."

"Good."

I turn off the lights in my quick sweep of the house. Then I head up to my room. I don't bother changing into pajamas before I fall asleep.

"Mom!" Charlotte is screaming, pounding on the car window."Mom, stop! Stop it! No!"

Mom continues eating, her eyes rolling wildly in her head. "Mom!" I urge. "Stop!"

She doesn't even seem to notice us. Blood coats her gray skin, and Dad's guts are splayed across the car seats. I pull Charlotte into my side. I know what I have to do, but I can't. It's my mom. Our mom.

She slowly sits up, a low guttural growl coming from deep within her, looking at us through the window. "Mommy," Charlotte whimpers into my side.

"We're leaving," I tell my little sister.

We're both crying when we step away from the car. I stare at Mom, who only now just seems to be seeing us. She growls, slamming her fists against the window. "Come on, Charlotte," I whisper. "We're leaving. It's okay. We're leaving."

Charlotte's sobs are the only thing I can hear besides the pounding in my ears. I can't tell if it's my heart or Mom, but either way it's driving me insane. I lead Charlotte closer to one of the cars on the street, starting to sing quietly. Mom always used to sing to calm Charlotte down, and now it seems to be helping. "Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock."

We climb into a van, and I'm relieved to find that the keys are there. Charlotte's sobs surround me. "It's okay," I urge. "It's okay."