Rosie might have said a simple "Ok" when Daryl told her to go to sleep, but she soon found that going to sleep was much easier said than done.

Her brain was filled with thoughts and questions about every little thing that had gone down that day.

Did Carol know that Sophia had died and didn't tell us? Was Sophia ever going to wake up, or was Hershel just lying to us? Why didn't Hershel want Rick to fire his gun? Why didn't he want me to stop Sophia?

If we're all infected, am I going to turn into a monster too? What will happen when I turn into a monster? Will I know what I am doing, and be unable to control it, or will I just be gone? Will someone put me down, or will I spend years walking with the dead?

Why am I so angry all the time? Why did Daddy treat me the way he did if it was bad? Was he really a bad person? Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't Coach Smith tell me? Why didn't Fraser tell me? Did they tell me? Did I just not understand?

What is wrong with me?

"Daryl," Rosie spoke quietly, her voice almost drowned out completely by the loudly singing crickets. She turned around on the sleeping bag, now facing Daryl. He had his back facing her.

"What?" Daryl asked. He sounded like all he wanted to do was go to sleep, which was true. But Rosie couldn't get her mind to quiet, so she shoved away her worries of annoying Daryl and let herself ask one question. And there was one overarching question that she couldn't stop thinking about, because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Sophia quickly dragging her feet towards her in that hallway.

Will someone put me down, or will I spend years walking with the dead?

"When I die, will ya make sure I don't turn into one a' them?" Rosie whispered, her voice shaky. She couldn't stand the thought of it. The thought of attacking someone like that. The thought of making someone else join her in her walk with the dead.

Daryl didn't respond for a moment. He shifted around in his sleeping bag, now lying on his back rather than his side. He stared up at the top of the tent. He didn't want to think about her question and he didn't want to answer her question, but he could feel her eyes on him, just waiting for him to say something.

"Daryl?" Rosie whispered again, pushing for an answer.

He glanced over at her for a second, barely able to make out her sad yet hopeful blue eyes in the darkness of the tent. He sighed and looked back up at the top of the tent. "I'll make sure," he told her, taking on the responsibility of putting her down if- God forbid- the time came she died.

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Promise. Now go ta sleep."

Rosie didn't say "Ok" that time because she wasn't sure if she really could go to sleep, so she just turned to lay on her right side, her untired eyes wide open, staring into the darkness of the tent.

•

It wasn't until the sun had already come up over the horizon that Rosie managed to drift off into a nightmare-filled sleep. She found herself continuously jumping awake, breathless and sweaty. The final time she jumped awake wasn't due to a nightmare, though, but due to something lightly hitting her side.

Rosie sat up quickly, her eyes wide, only to see that the thing lightly hitting her side was Daryl's boot. He was standing tall over her, a bottle of water in his hand. He dropped the water down next to her.

"Get up. Funeral's startin'," he said before leaving Rosie alone in the tent. After taking a few sips of water, she stood up and adjusted her red cowboy boots on her feet. They'd slipped down her heel a little while she was sleeping.

Looking down, Rosie's eyes landed on her father's belt with the knife sheath attached. In the knife sheath was the knife she used to put down Sophia. She stared down at it for a moment, thinking about what happened. The knife in her hand. Sophia's murky eyes.

Rosie neglected putting on the belt and left the tent without it.

Everyone was gathered near a tree by the barn, solemn expressions on their faces. Carl was crying, and so was Carol. Lori looked like she had just gotten done crying. It still felt wrong, going to funerals in normal clothes.

But this funeral was different. And every other funeral Rosie would ever go to was going to be different.

So Rosie took her place, standing by Daryl's side. The hole had already been dug. It wasn't six feet deep, or eight feet long, or three and a half feet wide. But it was a hole. A Sophia sized hole.

After all, from her head to her heels was all she needed.

No one said anything as the body was buried. Each set of eyes just watched while each mouth was held shut by some force that none of them could understand.

All Rosie could think was that Sophia was good. Sophia just wanted to dress her doll in different outfits and be with her mom. But instead, Sophia was lost. And when she was finally found, she was lost all over again. And now Carol was a childless mother. Every time Rosie spared a glance in Carol's direction, and saw that empty look on her face, she could only think that it should have been her in that bed, in that hallway, and in that hole.

Rosie had no one to miss her.

Sophia did.

•

Rosie was sat on the porch, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she focused on the book she was reading. It was called Dinosaurs After Dark, and it wasn't the most realistic book about dinosaurs, but Rosie was taking all she could get.

"Oh, here's a book for you," said Annie. She held up a book about dinosaurs. A blue silk book mark was sticking out of it.

"Let me see," said Jack. He set his backpack down on the-

"Hey, Rosie," Carl said, standing directly in front of the girl. She placed the sticky note Maggie had provided her with at the top of the page she was on and closed the book, looking up at Carl with her eyebrows raised. "Follow me," Carl said. He turned and started walking in the other direction.

"Why?" Rosie asked, getting up to follow him anyway.

"I have something cool to show you," Carl insisted. He picked up the pace, and so Rosie did too. It hurt her leg a bit to do all this running, but Carl made it seem like it was very important, so she went along anyway.

Carl led her to the small shed that Rosie had been hiding out in after she punched him. It was very dark in there, compared to how bright it was outside, so it took a moment for their eyes to adjust.

"Look," Carl said. Rosie watched as he ever so slightly lifted up the right side of his shirt, revealing a small black revolver. Her eyes widened and she lunged forward to try and take it from him, but he was quick to back away and cover the weapon with his shirt. "You can teach me!" he said.

"No! I told ya, if ya wanna use it, ask your dad!" Rosie argued.

He huffed and crossed his arms. "You're really not gonna teach me?" he complained.

"No, I'm not gonna teach you! Where'd ya get it? Ya have to put it back," Rosie said, mirroring his cross-armed stance.

"I took it from the RV," Carl confessed.

"Ok, so put it back. No one'll know."

"You won't tell?"

"I won't tell if ya put it back."

"Fine."

•

It wasn't even thirty minutes later when Rosie looked up from her book to see Shane pulling Carl by the arm, the same way he pulled her when she punched Carl back in the Atlanta camp. He took him over to the tents, where Rick and Lori were.

He didn't put it back.

Dumbass.

Wanting to see how this would go, Rosie got up from her spot and made her way over to the tents. Carl was sitting on the bench of a picnic table while Rick, Lori, Dale, and Shane convened a few feet away. Rosie sat down next to him, kicking her feet back and forth.

"I told ya you'd get in trouble," Rosie said monotonously.

"Shh," Carl hissed. She furrowed her eyebrows at him and he nudged her shoulder before pointing towards the adults. "Listen," he whispered. So Rosie did.

"There are guns in camp for a reason. He should learn to handle them safely," Rick was saying.

"I don't want my kid walking around with a gun," Lori argued.

"But how can you defend that? You can't let him go around without protection."

"He's as safe as he'll ever be right here," Lori said.

Rosie scoffed to herself without realizing. Her hands flew up over her mouth and her eyes darted over to Lori to see if she heard. She didn't. Thank God. Rosie then looked to Rick and Shane. They didn't hear it either. But then there was Dale, staring at her with his eyebrows raised. She shamefully looked away, thinking about what Daryl said.

Ya gotta pay more attention ta how yer actin'. Or yer gonna piss everyone off all the time.

No one heard. Except for Dale. But Dale was cool. She was in the clear.

"He's not mature enough to handle a gun!" Lori said loudly, looking over to Carl.

Carl was quick to defend himself, jumping up onto his feet. "I'm not gonna play with it, Mom. It's not a toy. I'm sorry I disappointed you, but I want to defend our camp. I can't do that without a gun," he said.

The look Lori and Rick were giving him made it seem like what he was saying was actually convincing them. They're gonna give Carl, who doesn't even know how to use a gun, a gun just because he wants one, but I can't have my gun?

Rick turned back to Lori. "Shane's the best instructor I know. I've seen him teach kids younger than Carl."

Lori stared at her husband for a moment, then marched over to Carl. She took his chin in her hand and made him look her in the eye. "You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you are not living up to our expectations-"

"He won't let you down," Rick interjected.

Carl gave a firm nod. "Yeah."

They're actually letting him. That means they have to let me, right?

"Does that mean I get my gun back?" Rosie spoke. All eyes turned to her, as if noticing she was there for the first time. Lori widened her eyes again and looked to Rick. Oh God, she's talking with her eyes again.

Rick seemed to understand what Lori's eyes were saying, because he gave her a slight nod and walked over to Rosie, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. Rosie looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't say anything. He kept looking around, like he was at a loss for words, so Rosie thought that maybe he needed some encouraging.

"You're lettin' Carl have a gun, and he doesn't even know how it works. I do know. You saw," she said.

"We can talk about it," Rick said.

"Ya just did talk about it," Rosie said, confused. It didn't make sense for them to let Carl have a gun and not let her.

Lori came over, standing next to Rick. Instead of looking at Rosie, though, she was looking at Rick. "We should talk to Daryl about it," she said.

Rosie furrowed her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Just go get him, please," Lori said exasperatedly.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes and say whatever, Rosie stood up and went off to find Daryl. When she came up behind him, he glanced back at her, having heard her coming, but didn't say anything.

"Daryl," she said.

"What?"

"Rick's lettin' Carl have a gun an' Lori said they're not gonna give me mine back 'til you say so," Rosie explained, crossing her arms.

Daryl turned to her, his eyebrows pinched together. "The hell's you havin' a gun have ta do with me?" he asked.

"Don't know. But they said, so ya gotta."

"Ain't gotta do nothin'," Daryl grumbled, going back to whatever he was doing when she got there.

Rosie stared at his back for a moment, wondering what the hell to do. Rick and Lori needed Daryl to give her her gun, and Daryl didn't want to talk to Rick and Lori. So she did the only thing she could think to do to try and convince him.

"Please?" she said.

Not three minutes later, Rosie was sitting back on the bench where Carl once sat. Rick, Lori, Shane, and Daryl were standing in front of her.

"Jus' give her the gun. What the hell are ya askin' me for?" Daryl was saying.

"Do you think that she's responsible enough for this?" Lori asked. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked very tense.

"She's been shootin' guns since she was lil'. She knows what the hell she's doin'."

Lori lowered her voice, whispering harshly, but Rosie could still hear her. "We barely know anything about her. Do you really think she can handle-"

"Jesus, lady. You really think she's gonna shoot someone or some shit?"

"Ok, just calm down," Shane said, holding his hand out. "We'll see how well she handles the gun when we go out later today. If she proves herself responsible enough, I say we give her back the gun."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "She's had it since 'er dad died. She's already proved herself enough."

"Yeah, I a'ready-"

"You keep yer mouth shut," Daryl stopped Rosie before she could finish echoing his words. She pressed her lips into a thin line, doing as Daryl said.

"She can go to gun training and we'll see how she does. I have no doubt that she's responsible enough, but it never hurts to make sure," Rick said.

"Whatever," Daryl scoffed. He turned to Rosie. "Better not fuck this up, kid," he said.

Making sure to keep her mouth shut, Rosie nodded firmly, resisting the urge to say, "yes, sir."