"If you would please have a seat," Deanna motioned toward the chair in front of the camera. Beth sat down and looked around the room. The bookshelf behind her contained DVDs and VHS copies with names on them. She noted that there was one for pretty much each member of her group on one shelf. The others contained names Beth guessed were Alexandrians. She looked back at Deanna.
"What's your name?" Deanna started.
"Beth Greene."
"Do you know how old you are, Beth?" Deanna said.
"I think I'm eighteen now," Beth said. Legally an adult.
"Ok, that means that you have a say in your groups decisions?"
"Well, no," Beth points to her head.
"Did you before?"
"No," Beth can see that Deanna was trying to place doubt in her head about her groups feelings towards her.
"What did you do when you were with them at the prison?"
Beth narrowed her eyes.
"I know all about the prison. And the farm. And the quarry," Deanna said, "And I could take a guess about those scars."
Beth looked down at her hands. They were balled into fists, clenched so hard her knuckles turned white. She did not like this woman. Beth didn't like what she knew and what she was insinuating. Beth was not another dead girl. Beth stood up and walked out, unwrapping her bandage as she went. Deanna followed her, calling her name. Beth threw open the door and stepped out onto the porch. Her group turned and looked at her. Maggie covered her mouth. Carol and Rick looked down and away. Daryl stood and went over to her. Glenn's mouth was dropped. Deanna exited the house, gasping. Beth angrily spun around.
"I AM NOT ANOTHER DEAD GIRL!" Beth shouted in Deanna's face. Deanna stumbled back. No one had actually seen the extent of Beth's damage besides Edwards. It wasn't pretty. There was a small indented, rounded scar on her forehead, a little bit above her left eyebrow. The back of her head was were the real damage was; her skull was put back together, but her hair was short and patchy in a large area were the bullet had exited. It was beginning to grow back, yet her scalp still showed; her scalp itself was blue, purple and red from the bruising. The stitches and staples weren't perfect and made the back of her head look Frankenstein-esque. Daryl grabbed her shoulders gently and pulled her back. Stepping back she dropped her knife she had been holding. Rick walked up to Deanna.
"You need to learn when to stop talking," he thrust a finger in Deanna's face. His group left Deanna's building, returning to their own little section of the community.