Bad Moon Rising

Chapter 1: Alone

Daddy always said that life had some kind'a purpose, something meant to happen, you know? And our Pastor, Nelson, used to tell us all about we had to bear witness, with stoicism and strength. When life hit us down we had to realize there must'a been some good reason God dealt us that hand... so when all this bad started happening I believed, I believed that it was for some kind'a reason. Some sort'a test on our becoming of humanity.

Daddy told me to never give up hope in good people. That everyone had a way of bein' good, if they had the right faculties to their disposal. Sometimes, people get lost, sometimes they don't know right from wrong no more. But that's what Daddy said would happen, and he said it was up to us to make sure bad people don't do bad things. To make them better, if we can, to make them realize they ain't hurtin' no one but themselves.

Pastor Nelson used to preach real heavily on forgiveness, that it's our responsibility, as good Christians, to forgive those who wronged us. With enough forgiveness in the world we'd find hope, and any emptiness that had been caused, any harm unto us, would be null, and we'd be free again, and God would love us just that much more.

Maybe it's silly that I'd kept up that hope for so long. That I'd believed everyone could be good, and when the world went... when it went like this... that maybe not everyone was good, but, maybe they had once been, could again – and that there still then could be good people.

I think when I saw that blood spurt out of him, down his shoulder and chest, that I almost forgot everything he'd said. But then... in those last few days, I grappled with god, with askin' him why? Why he'd taken my Daddy, why he'd shown me as it happened. And I think what I knew then, is what Daddy said; everyone has a purpose. I guess he just had fulfilled his already. To make us all better, to save Carl, to make me stronger, and to help Rick with his demons, to save Glen when he'd been ill... and to help us all remember that if we're good, then so are others. He'd reminded me that above all hope is stronger than anythin' else.

I guess it's ironic... that my belief in what he'd told me became stronger once he was gone. But I have to believe there was a reason... that the Governor was once a good man gone wrong. No one becomes that wrong without first bein' good, and then losin' everything that matters, and all the hope that he thought the world had to offer. So I guess I forgive him... because this world made him into what he was, and I could see why... even if I never would like it, and even if it took what he lost from me. And so I can't hate him... not entirely anyways... that just wouldn't be right, in Daddies books.

And so when I lost all the things that mattered to me, when everything went to shit at the prison... when Daryl grabbed me out and we took off... I knew that we had two options; become what killed Daddy, or hold on to what he taught us was most important in this world. I guess I sort'a made it my mission to help Daryl see what I saw. He needed a friend... I'd always thought so... but I never thought that person would be me, I never thought we'd be one-another's hope.

It was pitch black as I ran from the house. I'd yelled "I won't leave you!" But I knew he'd not let me, and I had to trust that God would let him be okay, I had to hope that Daddy was lookin' over us both, takin' care of us then, like always.

"Get out," he'd called back to me, and my feet listened, though my heart sank with ieach step I took.

The damn place was boarded up everywhere! I waited till the sounds drowned in the basement before I grabbed one of the chairs sitting near the fireplace and smashed it against the boarded window. With enough force and a couple more 'thwacks' two boards gave loose. I'm thin enough that I fit through, thank goodness for our lack of food the past week or I'd have been stuck that much longer. I hoisted myself through, not really bothering to look on the other side. I needed to get out, like I'd been told. But I didn't hit ground right away, a warm hand encircled my sore ankle, and I twisted and kicked yelling out against its hold. My heart beat faster, pounding hard as my breath hitched and I squirmed against the walker. There was a momentary popping sound and then I was in the bushes, dirt and weeds. My Ankle had popped and twisted twice as bad as before, but it gave way and slipped from my boot.