All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 1

 I start to head back towards the door. And then I hear his voice.

“Natalie?” he questions.

Just as I’m about to react-to run- he realizes I’m not Natalie.

He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and slams me against the wall. With his free hand, he grabs my wrists and forces them above my head. I flinch, waiting for him to hit me. He takes note of my knife and quickly extracts it from my belt. I expect it to be Crossbow, knowing that I must have timed it wrong. He wasn’t asleep yet. But when he puts his face close to mine I see it’s the Asian.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing?” He keeps his voice quiet even though his eyes are frantically searching mine. With his face so close, I realize how handsome he is.

I realize that this is it: he’s going to kill me. I should have kept my knife in my hand while I stole the can. I could have inflicted some kind of wound, painful enough to give me an opportunity to run, but not harmful enough to kill him.

 I think of my life as I wait for him to slit my throat. My father would want me to fight, he wouldn’t want me to give up so easily. Jayson and Sarah would want me to fight too. I promised Jayson I would never stop fighting. But I’m so tired of fighting. I almost want him to kill me so I don’t have to think anymore. So I don’t have to remember anymore. So I don’t constantly have to see Jayson and Sarah being eaten over and over again by them. So I don’t constantly have to think about how I ate them too.

“Just kill me now,” I say through gritted teeth.

The pressure of his forearm against my throat is slowly killing my air supply.

His brown eyes soften, but he still keeps the pressure against my throat. He draws a gun from his waistband and presses the barrel to my forehead.

“Answer my questions and maybe I won’t kill you,” he whispers. He releases some of the pressure off my throat, “Now, tell me who the hell are you?”

I could lie, but I don’t lie.

“Macy Harris,” I answer, gasping for air.

“What are you doing, here, in this house, Macy?”

“Stealing from you,” I spit.

His eyes go wide, surprised at my honesty. I want to make him angry. I want him to pull the trigger.

“Are you alone?” he asks.

I really consider lying for this one even though it’s not who I am. I’ve already almost lost everything, the last thing I want to lose is myself.

“Yes,” I finally answer.

He shoves his forearm harder against my throat and turns the safety off.

“Don’t lie to me!” he raises his voice slightly, but not loud enough to wake anyone.

“I’m not lying. I lost my entire group twelve days ago,” I try to explain.

He shakes his head and black hair falls into his face.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he confesses.

He abruptly steps away from me while keeping the gun pointed at my face.

“Go sit in that chair over there,” he instructs.

My eyes have mostly adjusted to the dark now. I spot the chair and do as he says. I have no idea what he’s planning to do. I don’t understand why he hasn’t killed me yet. I stole from him, he should kill me. I know that I should probably be figuring out how to escape and I figure my best chance is just to run. Why am I thinking about escaping? I wanted to die two seconds ago.