BREATHLESS... when I should be fearless.

I am assuming those terms was not the ones to use at the moment. Always running and worrying for no reason, other than the dead walking among us and the constant terror that the living causes us.

My twin brother, Paul, and I came to the Hilltop, looking and hoping for security and civilization. We had all of that... Until the Saviors came in and ruined everything that we had worked so hard to build. Gregory, the Hilltop's leader, just allowed them to come on in and do whatever they wanted – and take whatever they want, too. Just as long as they don't kill any of us, Gregory says.

They've killed some of us before. Negan, who is the leader of the Saviors, single-handily came in with his stupid barbed-wire baseball bat – that he named Lucille – and killed some of our people. He killed a kid, only sixteen years old, and just getting started with his life.

Negan wasn't above murdering anyone – men, women, or children.

I have survived this long because of Paul, who is known as Jesus to everyone. Nobody ever calls him his real name, except for me, of course. If it wasn't for Paul, I wouldn't be alive today. I really do love my twin brother more than anything else that's left here. I owe him everything.

Being here in the heart of Washington, we came here to find a cure. It seems so funny now, actually thinking that we could find something to cure everything from becoming walking cannibals.

We didn't find shit, obviously. What we did find instead was the Hilltop. At first, it was great. Things were good. But, then, the Saviors came and it hasn't been the same since.

Everyone at the Hilltop have jobs to do, though. Paul usually is the one that goes out and gets enough supplies for us and the Saviors. They come and go as they please, as if this is their second home.

Negan has this weird affection with me to the point where he asked me if I would be his "wife." He promised to never kill any of our people again. Although the idea of never losing anyone again to him or his band of goons was a nice thought, I declined immediately and told him to go fuck himself. I even went as far as slapping right across the face while he held this smug smirk among his lips.

By this point, I was just asking to be killed by him. Yet, he didn't do that. As a matter of fact, he continued to smirk as if nothing ever happened. He sighed and said calmly to me, "Tess, you shouldn't have done that, but I'm going to let it pass just this once. Don't let it happen again or I'll kill your brother next."

Negan knew that if he killed me, that it wouldn't exactly be a tragedy, but killing my brother would legitimately kill the Hilltop. They needed him more than they will ever need me, honestly. I've only survived this far because of my brother, after all.

I have worked my way up in the ranks, though, since then and am definitely somebody that anyone should mess with. Most times, Paul and I go out to find supplies together. This also serves as "quality" time to spend together as close siblings.

However, as of today, we decided to go our separate ways just this once. We had different things and places that we wanted to go. We promised to see each other once again soon.

I found myself in town, around where a strip-mall once stood, probably overpopulated when things were normal. Before going inside the bar, where I wanted to go, I spotted a Biter mindlessly wandering around.

It didn't really notice me at first until I started whistling for it. It yanked its body towards me while it nearly broke its neck to stare at me.

It growled and held its arms up for me to just fall right into. Instead, I went ahead and tripped it. It fall down, so I immediately took out my handy knife and drove it down into the back of its head, finally putting it to rest.

I kept my head lowered and my knife out. Gingerly, I walled towards the bar, where it had huge windows on both sides of their front door. Hook's Bar & Grill, the front door had written on it because a sticker pressed on it to advertise the name of the place.

Tapping on the glass, I spotted a few Biters inside. I stood back and waited for them to approach the front door, where I would ambush them and kill them one by one.

I didn't know why I was here. On our last mission together, Paul and I passed this place. We hit some of the nearby stores, but didn't come inside of here. Though, it was probably for good reason.

Before the world officially went to Hell, I was almost always in a bar or club, living it up. I used to live my life so recklessly, which Paul despised. I couldn't blame him, though. My situation before was scary, to say the least.

If Paul knew where I was right now, he wouldn't be very happy with me.

Finally, the three Biters inside came to the front door to let me in. I yanked the door open just a little bit, just enough to allow one of the Biters to reveal themselves. With my dominant right hand, I reared back my knife before wedging it down into its head. It fell dramatically against the glass-door before falling completely back.

The second made the same mistake as the other, placing its head into the opening. Again, I reared my knife back and placed it right into its head. It was like this with the last one, too.

Once they were taken care of, I tried my best to throw the door open all the way; yet, their bodies were blocking my way inside. Somehow, I managed before trying to decide what to do with them.

I decided to just leave them be, as long as they were out of the way. I wouldn't be in here very long, anyways. Not if I could help it, that it.

With the door now closed behind me, I finally could head inside and tried to ignore the horrible stench in here. It was everywhere, though.

I wandered behind the bar with all the drinks lining the shelves behind me and underneath the bar as well. There wasn't very many left, though. Barely anything that I wanted to drink, that is.

Disgusting, I thought to herself after seeing the last few bottles of liquor on the shelves. I wouldn't drink these, even if I was dying of thirst.

Finally, I turned around before bending down to what was underneath the bar, itself. Not very many drinks remained, plus the safe underneath here was already wide open where somebody must of broke into it and took what was inside.

Hello, I thought to myself just as I spotted a whole bottle of vodka. There you are!

Just as I was about to grab it and chug it down, I suddenly spotted something else beside it. Huh, two walkie-talkies. Long-range, if I had to guess.

Abruptly, my focus was no longer on the liquor that I had came in here for to begin with. I grabbed the walkies and thought of what I could do with them. Paul and I could use them, especially if we start taking more solo missions. Above all else, they will always come in handy for anything else, too.

Then, suddenly, I remembered... I don't need to be here. I stared back at the bottle of vodka, tempting me. I could've been killed by some Biters just because I wanted a buzz.

Am I so low in life that I had to come here for some satisfaction at the bottom of a bottle?

Abruptly, I heard a huge noise occur outside. The windows were nasty from the inside, but I could still see some figures and a huge truck outside as they begin to creep closer to the bar.

"Fuck," I faintly cursed and hit the floor. My back was glued to the bar, sitting there with my stuff in my lap.

Please don't come in here, I prayed inside of my head. Please don't come in here.

Just then, the door opened wide and several footsteps shuffled inside. I'm fucked.

"Man," one man breathed out upon coming inside. "Poor bastards." He was probably referring to the Biters that I had killed. "Anyways, how 'bout a drink, boys?"

Boys? There was more than just him, I suppose. Shit.

My blood began pumping and my heart was hammering against my chest inside. Their footsteps kept getting closer and their voices got louder, too. They were standing right there in front of the bar.

"I'll take whatever at this point," a new voice stated, obviously eager to drink. "Look behind the counter, D. Might be some booze still left worth drinking."

Someone chuckled and claimed, "It's probably not any good now." Wait, I recognized that voice a little, I think. Who is that?

"Any booze is good," the first voice laughed aloud, even taking it as far as slamming his fist down on the counter. It shook with the sudden act of violence. "Go on and look for us, D."

I held my breath back and squeezed my knees, along with my stuff that sat in my lap, closer to me. Dammit, I thought to myself since I couldn't speak out loud. I am so screwed.

Then, I spotted the pair of boots before I slowly guided my eyes from them up the legs to the face, who stared down at me. I stared back and our eyes matched, as far as color because we both had blue eyes.

He had blonde hair, though, which went down to his shoulders while my hair was long and dark. Yet, I knew this man. Somewhat.

His mouth sat there, ajar for a whole minute, as if he was trying to process the sight down on the floor. I just held my breath, silently hoping that he wouldn't open his big mouth to rat me out to his friends.

"What is it, D?" one of his friends asked from the front of the counter. "See something?"

My eyes easily were full, pleading with him not to say anything. Just to be sure, I brought my right index finger to my lips, hushing him.

I knew him. Dwight... of the Saviors. Negan's Saviors. He was sort of one of Negan's right-hand men.

Dwight had changed a lot since I last seen him, though. His hair was more longer and wilder. Not only that, but now the left side of his face now carried a huge scar across it. What the hell happened?

Just when I thought that he was going to say something, he simply shook his head and leaned down with his hand, looking like he was going to choke me or something. He simply took the bottle of vodka which sat right behind my head and placed it on the counter.

Immediately, I took a huge – yet silent – deep breath of pure relief. He didn't know it just yet, but I was internally grateful that he decided not to tell on me.

Dwight stood right next to me while I remained silently sat on the floor. He was so close to me that I could feel the heat from his legs, which were covered by his jeans, of course.

With the vodka in hand, he started to pour his friends a drink each into glasses, I could hear. Dwight's hesd flew back, taking a big swig of it straight from the bottle. I just sat there, frozen in place, but briefly watched him. I wanted to be invisible right now, but only Dwight could see me and he decided to act like he did not.

After a few more minutes and some talking, Dwight bent down right next to me to grab something else, but our eyes met in the middle. They were locked for a solid five seconds. Just like I had done before, he did the same as he brought his right index finger up to his lips to keep me quiet. I simply nodded and gulped, mentally accepting.

Dwight jumped back up to his feet and they continued to talk for, what it seemed like, forever. They talked about women, guns, motorcycles, and everything else under the sun. Including Negan.

Minutes later, maybe ten or fifteen, the guys went down to the feet from the stools. "You coming?" one of them asked Dwight, who was still standing behind the counter with me.

Dwight shook his head and said, "I'm going to stay to check the place out for a bit. I'll catch you guys back at home."

The door opened and one said back, "Alright, then. Have it your way. Just going to sit here and get drunk off your ass, anyways."

The door finally shut only a split-second after. Dwight still hadn't moved, almost as frozen as I was, until I heard the truck start before skirting out of the parking lot.

I noticed Dwight straightened himself up before gripping the gun on his side. "Get up," he barked out and, against my will, I immediately jumped up to my feet, standing right beside him. There was hardly any space between us now. His eyes were staring straight into my soul while I tried to avoid eye contact with him right now. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged innocently and replied, "Just browsing around. What 'bout you?"

He stared until bending his head back a little, rolling his eyes in the process. "Dammit, Tess," he whispered out, sounding defeated in the process. "What if one of them had came behind here and not me? You would've been killed, understand that?"

I slowly nodded in understanding, but came to my own defense. "I know, but—"

"And what is it you got from here, huh?" Dwight suddenly interrupted me, yanking my bag out of my arms. He began to dig through it and, then, pulled out my new walkie-talkies. He looked up at me with his eyebrows raised and questioned, "What are these for, huh?"

I gulped, still trying to avoid his eyes. Unfortunately, I didn't succeed and, ultimately, I just shrugged and acted innocent. I was hoping that he wasn't going to take them. I needed them.

Dwight put one of them on his side with a smirk on his face, then our eyes really met. "Thanks. I'll need this."

Wait... "What?" I breathed out with a huff. "But, Dwight... I need that. I—"

"Look," he grunted out, interrupting once again. "You jus better be glad that I didn't expose you to my friends. They aren't as nice as I am. God only knows what they would've done to you. I'm taking something from you, so we're now even."

He shoved my bag back to me, hitting me right in the stomach with it, and that's when I noticed he had only taken one out the two walkie-talkies that I had. What the hell? I launched an eyebrow up and questioned, "Why did you just take one?"

That's when Dwight smiled from ear to ear, as if this was a game. "Because, baby doll, this is the only way that me and you can talk. Am I right? If I need you, I'll give you a ring." He started to walk away, going around the bar. "Alright?"

And, with a flirtatious wink, he left.