The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

seventyeight.

Kelly straightens, holding his hand up, "yes. Go get the girl, redneck." He teases our brother, dragging the archer into an embrace. 

Daryl swallows hard, nodding. "Thank ya."

I glance around, spotting Vanessa's swords and weapons strewn haphazardly. "Shit!" I panic, gaze searching for any type of life. "Vanessa?!" I shout into the still air, "Charlee?!" I kneel down, noticing a wallet near her favorite weapons. Curiously, I take it within my grasp, leafing through the contents. 

I swallow a lump in my throat, spotting three Polaroid images. The first one is Vanessa with purple and green hair fast asleep. I flip it over discovering some writing on the back; even asleep, she's a goddess. Unable to recognize the hand writing I continue on my endeavor. The second photo is Charlee, Wren, Kelly, Jordan, Vanessa, and two others I've never seen or heard of before. Out of habit, I turn it over, finding more handwriting; Senior Prom. I return to the scrutinizing the image. Kelly is glaring at Vanessa's then boyfriend, Jordan, while she smiles, unaware of the animosity radiating off of Kelly's body language and expression. 

The third photo captures a moment of Kelly and Vanessa in what I assume is at the time that they were together. Vanessa's hair now blue, dark make up paints her face; still as beautiful as she is in her natural state. With further inspection, I spot bruises around her neck in the last stage of healing. I recognize the marks from the pictures Kelly had previously produced. This was shortly after she was released from the hospital. I sense some trauma just dancing under her blue eyes, but to the unsuspecting glance, she's glowing. Kelly has her inside his arms, grinning at his girlfriend while they huddle together in the snowy landscape around them. The words on the back reads; our first Christmas.

This is Kelly's wallet, I realize. 

"Rick?" A small, feathery worried filled voice comes from the tree line.

I let out a sigh relief, stalking over. I observe Charlee, leaning against the tree, gripping the back of her head, a frown etching her pale, beautiful face. Her long brown hair is a mess. She's dressed in white wash shorts and a black tank top that reads "little nightmare"; very reminiscent of Vanessa's leather jacket. I search around Charlee, trying to catch glimpse of Vanessa. A bad feeling glides along my flesh when there's no sign of Daryl's wife. "Where is she?" I ask carefully, bracing for the worst.

"I don't know. I'm going to go out and search for her."

I rub my face, swearing under my breath. "Come here," I take her head into my hands, finding a wound with dried blood buried inside a nest of dark hair, on the back of her skull. "I'll have Enid clean this for you, so you don't catch an infection. What happened?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. We were taking out the dead when, what I assume is, someone came up from behind me. I didn't hear anything. Everything went black. When I came to, she was gone." She turns around, returning to the tree for support, face serious, "there's something you need to know." I chew on my lip, crossing my arms. I observe tears begin to fall from her brown eyes. "Owen was there the night we took down Negan. Her and Negan both saw him. She knew he was coming. I just hoped this wouldn't have happened.." I watch as she gasps between sobs.

"Owen? Fuck! Why didn't anyone say anything until now?" I snarl.

"I only learned about it a few days ago. Daryl didn't know either until I did. He didn't believe her..." I observe as rage begins to simmer just under her fair skin.