Hannah woke in her bed, her eyes blinded by the sun shining in the window that faced out onto Alexandria. She had never planned to wake up this late, but with all that happened last night, she allowed herself to, just this once. Hannah let her hands run over the soft sheets that covered her mattress. She felt the warmth of the cotton, a feeling she was sure she would never get used to. Hannah wanted to sink into the mattress below her, she wanted to be swallowed up in its comfortable clutches.
Memories of her conversation with Ron played over and over in Hannah's mind. How did a day so wonderful turn so sour? She understood why Ron was upset, he had every right to be, but he had no right to take it out on her.
Hannah began to stand from her place in the bed, letting her legs swing over the sides and onto the cool, hardwood floor. She was going to talk to Ron. She knew she didn't deserve the things he said to her, and she knew he would understand.
As she rose, Hannah heard a cacophonous string of screams pour out from the town surrounding her. She jumped at the noise, having almost forgotten what that terrible, fear-filled sound was. Hannah moved quickly to the window that she had just been hiding away from, searching for the origin of the sound. She could see people running in all directions, frantic terror written across their faces, and yet, she could see no perpetrator of their fear.
Hannah then ran swiftly down her stairs, slipping as she turned. Had the walkers gotten in? Hannah thought. She leaped from the last step, going to look through a different window. She moved the loose curtain to the side. Hannah could now see the perpetrators.
She watched as men and women with W's haphazardly scraped onto their foreheads chased after the townspeople, all sorts of weapons reached out far in front of them. They seemed to have grabbed whatever they could, with some carrying heavy knives or axes, and others carrying guns that they must have taken from her own people. The invaders were wearing bloodstained and worn clothes, and Hannah couldn't help but be more scared of them because of it. She pulled the curtain closed, unable to look as her people were murdered, slashed right in front of her. Hannah didn't know what to do. Should she be helping people fight? Should she stay hidden away inside? Hannah knew her only choices were between cowardice and stupidity.
Hannah chose cowardice.
She slumped herself against the wall, staying as still and flat as she could. There were two other open windows on the walls across from her, each giving a perfect view of the chaos outside. She needed a plan. She needed to find somewhere safe.
Hannah slid farther down the wall, now sitting uncomfortably on her knees. She kept her eyes on the windows, trying her best to stay observant. She needed to get to the kitchen, Hannah thought. If she could grab the knives, or even a mallet maybe, Hannah would be protected. God, at that moment she wished she had asked Daryl to help her sooner. If only she hadn't been so scared. If only she didn't simply wish away the bad things.
When Hannah made it to the kitchen, still crouching below the sight of the windows, she pulled open the drawer that held the silverware. Inside were a few rows of utensils, each one from a completely different set. In the back were the knives. There were only two, one big, and one smaller. The big one was the kind that Hannah could remember her mother using to cut steak before cooking it. The smaller one, Hannah knew, was a paring knife. She had used it many times before for her own meals. Hannah's hand hovered over the two. If she has to fight, she thought, she is going to have to win. Hannah grabbed the big knife.
Hannah stayed in the kitchen, the knife clutched against her chest. She tried to tune out the sounds, the screaming and the crying of the people she knew. Her mind wandered back to her friends. She knew Enid would be okay, the girl knew what she was doing. Hopefully, Ron would be with her. Hopefully, she could protect him. Hannah didn't want to think about Carl, though. She knew, of course, that he would be okay. He had to be. She knew he was probably with Judith, standing over her crib, or maybe holding her in his arms. She knew Carl would protect his family; that would be his first priority. Hannah wanted to be sure, though. She so desperately wanted to know that he was okay. That all of her friends were okay.
As Hannah waited, she could hear the sounds outside getting quieter. The screams seemed to ebb as she stood, and Hannah allowed herself, finally, to near the window. She reached the one that she had stood at not long ago. With the knife still clutched in her palms, Hannah held her breath and reached out to the curtain. She pulled it just slightly, peeking through the opening. Although she could see the bodies that were strewn about, beaten and bloody, it looked like everything was finally over.
Hannah gripped the curtain, holding it for a moment, before pulling it back all the way. When she did, Hannah stared right back into the eyes of a woman, a 'w' scratched into her forehead and blood dripping off of her hands.
Hannah could hear the glass shatter as she ran. Hannah could hear the woman entering her home. She ran back into the kitchen, gripping the knife so hard its wooden handle dug into the skin of her palm. She searched frantically for an escape. The front door was blocked by the woman, her large body hunched slightly as she pulled herself from the window. Within a second, she ran at Hannah, meeting her in the kitchen. And then she only stood, a shard of the broken window in hand, watching her breath.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her voice scratchy and mean, and yet, superficially, it was genuine. Her head was turned slightly, and her eyes were condescending as she too breathed heavily. Hannah kept the knife reached out in front of her.
"Take whatever you want, please, just leave us alone." She said, trying to keep her voice level.
"Whatever I want?" The woman mocked, moving closer now, "You shouldn't make promises like that." She continued closer to Hannah, blocking her in.
"Stay back" Hannah shouted, moving her knife forward. The woman only laughed.
"What are you gonna do, hm? That's a pretty big knife for a little girl like you." The woman gestured with the shard, and Hannah was forced into silence. Hannah knew the woman was stronger than she was, she knew she had done this before. Hannah begged in her mind that someone would barge through the door. Maybe Daryl would be back now, maybe he would run in with his bow and shoot the woman before Hannah even shed a tear. Maybe Carl would see her through the window and pull his gun from its holster, not willing to anyone else get hurt. But the outside was still quiet, and her door was still closed. All Hannah could hear was her own heart and the breathing of the woman in front of her.
Hannah gripped her knife harder now, so hard she was sure it would bruise her hand. If she could just make it past the woman, she would be free. It was an impossible thought, but this time, Hannah chose stupidity. With the idea set in her mind, she pushed off the counter and barreled into the woman. The window shard plunged into Hannah's arm, causing her ears to ring as they tumbled. The woman had fallen to the ground with Hannah on top of her. She hadn't really thought this far ahead, but something inside of her, something animalist, kept Hannah going. They each grunted and cried as they rolled around on the ground, going back and forth between who was on top. The woman gripped down onto the hand that held Hannah's knife, digging her nails deep into the girl's skin. Hannah used her injured arm to knock the glass from the woman's hand before they flipped over. Now Hannah lay, her back pressed against the hard wooden floor, struggling to free her hand from the woman's grab. That animalistic part came over Hannah again when her hand wouldn't budge. She brought her knee up in between their two bodies, reeling back and striking the woman's ribs. She cried and loosened her grip just enough that Hannah could pull herself from beneath the woman.
Hannah sprinted to the door and stumbled onto her porch. She jumped from the steps, much as she had on her way downstairs, falling onto her hands and knees. Hannah only just made it off the porch before she could hear the woman yelling after her. She looked behind her and saw the woman charging forward, the glass back in her hand. Hannah staggered forward, slipping slightly on the blood of a corpse. She noticed now, that the grass beneath her was slick with blood and bodies. With a slight gasp of horror, Hannah continued to run.
She made it just to the next house before Hannah felt the woman on her back. She pushed her down as Hannah screamed. She felt her face become buried into the grass and she could taste the metallic sting of blood, though she wasn't sure who it belonged to.
"You stupid bitch!" The woman yelled. Hannah saw now that she had a cut along her face. Hannah must have cut her when they were in the kitchen. When Hannah fell, the knife that she had been gripping so hard had slipped from her hand, the sweat of her palm becoming too much. Hannah tried to turn her head to search for it, but she felt the cold sting of glass against her throat.
"You could have been free, girl! I could have freed you!" The woman dug the glass along her face, drawing blood on her forehead. Hannah winced at the feeling, her eyes finally beginning to water. She jerked her head away from the glass, but it only seemed to cut deeper.
"Don't cry, girl. We're gonna help you." The woman gave Hannah an eerie smile before moving the shard down her chest. Hannah moved desperately below her, her hands sweeping across the grass, begging for her knife.
"Please" Hannah cried.
At that, the woman took her hand, swiped up some of the blood from Hannah's face, and began to write on her own forehead, outlining the 'W' that had already been carved. The touch of the woman's fingers stung like salt, and Hannah could feel the blood drip down her cheeks. Some fell into her eyes, mixing with her tears. When the woman was done, she moved a bloody finger to Hannah's lips, holding it delicately over them.
"Shh," The woman said softly, "You will be free."
She tightened the glass in her hands, pulling it above Hannah's body, before slamming it down into her chest. The pain seared through Hannah as she screamed.
---
Her mom had been the one to find the shack. It wasn't really a shack, but Hannah felt that there was no difference between a shack and a gun shed. When they found it, Jennifer Grant only wanted to see if there were any weapons left. When they found that the shack had been pillaged long ago, Jen wanted to leave, unable to look at their failure. But Malcolm Grant persisted, so they decided this was their new home.
The family lived in that shack for most of their time After. Over the years, they had set it up as nicely as they could, with a quilt lining the small floor, and the small family photo that Jen had brought with them covering a hole in one of the walls. It was nice. They were safe.
Hannah loved how open it was. Of course, the shed itself was small, but outside of it was a wide-open field. It must have spanned about 1-2 acres, and it was full of beautiful, bright green grass. Hidden inside the grass were all sorts of wildflowers; blue flowers, red flowers, orange flowers, and purple flowers. Hannah spent most of her time in the field. The house was too cramped, and the outside was too beautiful.
She hadn't been outside that day. It was been raining and Jen told Hannah to stay inside.
"You'll get sick," she had told her.
And so, Hannah and her mother stayed inside. Malcolm had gone out not too long before the rain had started. He was going on a run to find more canned foods. They had just begun to run out.
Now, Hannah could only remember small pieces of that day. She could still remember the sound of the gunshots outside. She could still remember her mother jumping in shock at the noise. And she remembered the feeling of the tears in her eyes when her mother said she needed to go outside.
Hannah sat in the corner of the shed, alone, with her knees pressed up against her chest as she sobbed. There were two more gunshots that rang out until everything went silent.
Hannah waited. She prayed that her mother might walk back through the door, holding her father's hand. They would come in and say everything was okay and wipe her tears. But they never did. Hannah stayed inside, alone, listening to the rain hit the roof just as her tears hit the floor.
Finally, when the rain stopped, Hannah stood.
Now, Hannah could still remember the blood that covered the field she had loved. She remembered how the sticky liquid blanketed all of the flowers that decorated the grass, painting them all a deep red.
It was an odd sight, the swaying of the long grass that wrapped around the unmoving body of Malcolm Grant.
Hesitantly, Hannah ran to find her mother. She screamed her name into the air and yet nothing came back. She yelled again, her desperate voice straining against her throat. Still, nothing came back.
Now, Hannah could still remember that first view of the walkers coming toward her. She could still feel her hesitance to leave her only family behind.
Hannah could remember how she cried harder than she had all day when she found herself alone, with only the photograph she had taken from the shed, at a large fence.
A fence with Alexandria: Safe Zone was written across it.
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HEYYY LOVLIESSSSS!!! ahhh I'm so excited about this chapter. I've literally been planning it (and the upcoming chapters) for soo long. I really hope you enjoyed it. I also hope the flashback and the fight scenes made sense. I've never written something like that before so idk.
How do we feel about Hannah's backstory???
Thanks for Reading!
p.s I updated the introduction page to include Jen and Malcolm's face claims if you're interested :)
EDIT: for those who are rereading this story after I updated it, you may notice that this chapter plays out a little differently than it did before. That is on purpose and the story will continue this way.