"No, she hasn't moved from that spot."
"We need to just let her be."
"But dad, she was gonna let herself fall into them."
"Maggie, this new world does things to people. She probably has lost a lot of people, just like we have. She just needs time to heal. She'll be ok with time."
"Here's some food whenever you're ready. I know how it feels to loose someone. You fell empty inside, like there's no will to live.... Yeah..... But it'll get better."
"How is she?"
"She cleared her plate finally, but she's back to staring out that damn window." I turned my face to look at the brown haired girl who was staring at me.
"Where am I?" I asked, my voice monotone.
"Dad!" The brown haired girl left the room." Dad, she's talking!" Two pairs of footsteps came up the steps and the girl re-entered the room with a white haired man.
"I said, where am I?" I asked again as the man knelt down in from of where I sat.
"On my farm." He answered. He had a southern accent, just like the girl. "My name is Hershel Greene, and this is my daughter Maggie, the one who saved your life." I shook my head.
"I didn't want to be saved." I simply say. Sadness washed over both their faces.
"There's a shower in the bathroom just over there so you can clean up." He stood. "Come downstairs when you feel comfortable." Before they left, Maggie stopped and turned to me.
"I may not know everything you went through out there, but I'm sorry." Her voice was full of sympathy. They left the room, leaving me alone again. I stared at the open bathroom door before deciding on taking a shower. I stood from the bed, my legs sore. I forced myself to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the small oval shaped mirror. I didn't recognize myself. I looked... dead. I was pale underneath my dirty face. My shirt was ripped and bloody. My hair was ratted beyond belief. Dark circles shown under my eyes. I looked horrible.
I turned on the shower and jumped in. I scrubbed furiously at my skin as though everything bad would leave along with the dirt and blood. My skin red and sore, I stepped out of the shower, not knowing where a towel was. My clean skin shown more scars. My once soft hands were rough and worn. I ran my fingers through my wet hair. It had gotten long, laying down close to my mid drift. It was too long for my liking. I searched the cabinet until I found a pair of silver scissors. I took a hold of a chunk of my hair, closing the scissor blades. I tossed the handful of hair in the garbage, proceeding to do the same with the rest of my head. I set the sheers aside and looked at my result. It was a lot shorter, lighter. I finally found a towel, rubbing my body dry and wrapping it around my head to dry my hair. I slipped on my dirty clothes and hesitantly went to the top of the stairs. I listened for a moment to their talking.
"Don't ask her too many questions. She may not be ready to talk about anything." Maggie's voice said.
"I won't! Jeez! You guys treat me like I'm a child." A new male voice spoke. I stepped down a couple steps and their voices stopped. I continued down and peeked around the corner. Maggie, Hershel, and three others stood around a kitchen table. They turned to look at me.
"I'm glad to see you up and moving." Hershel said. I didn't answer. "This is my son Shawn, our family friend Otis and his wife Patricia." The black haired young man who I guessed was Shawn waved slightly.
"We were just about to eat if you wanted to join us." Patricia told me, compassion in her eyes.
"Ok." I answered quietly.
Throughout the meal, everyone ate quietly. I picked at my food slowly, not having much of an appetite. Every once in a while, Patricia would try and start a conversation but it would end soon after. After a long half hour of silence, I scooted back my chair. I stood there for a second before turning and heading back up to the guest room, not saying a word. As I walked up the steps, I heard them talking.
"She'll open up eventually." Hershel said. I stopped, the feeling of anger surging through my bones. I turned around, going back down into the dining room where they all sat, staring at me.
"My name is Sawyer Elizabeth Parson. I'm 27 years old. I lost my mom, step-dad, and sister when this started. My actual dad died when I was 11 but we don't talk about it in my house. I got shoved into five lockers in my high school career. I've never broken an arm or leg but I've taken a bullet through my side. I had a friend named Glenn who's probably dead because God knows he can't protect himself like he thinks he can." The word vomit poured from my lips, unstopping. "I met the man I love close to two years ago when he nearly shot me with his crossbow. It wasn't till the other night that we told each other. I watched two people I considered family die in front of me, one of them turning; the other I had to shoot in the head. She was pregnant when she died. I've killed more than 15 people, all of them trying to kill me or my group. I told four of the people I love most in the world goodbye a little more than 24 hours ago and accepted the fact that I would probably die leading away the men that were trying to kill us." They all stared in shock. "Now ya'll can stop talking about me like a bunch of gossipy church bitches." I looked Maggie in her wide eyes. "and no, you don't even begin to know what I went through out there." I stormed out the house, the screen door slamming behind me.
~AN~ I thought since Hershel was killed off in the Mid-Season Finale a couple weeks ago that he deserved to be alive in my fanfiction. RIP Hershel. We'll never forget you. Peace out, walkers!
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Forget The Horror Here (A The Walking Dead Fanfiction)Fanfiction
Dead. Completely dead. Like what you see in movies and what you read in stories. And amongst the destruction and danger, the last of the living grip on to whatever's left of humanity. I, Sawyer Parson, am one of them.