The sun started to go down and everyone gathered in the house. Rosie was told to wait in the other room with Carl, which really sucked because Rosie did not want to talk to Carl at all and Carl made it very clear that he didn't want to talk to Rosie.

As the two walked into the house, reluctantly side by side, they paused to look at everyone gathered in the living room. Looking at the expressions on their faces, Rosie could already guess what the outcome would be. They were going to kill Randall.

When Rosie walked past Daryl, she made eye contact with him, glaring and hoping that it would send the message of I really don't want you to kill Randall. Daryl just looked away, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Next, Rosie looked at Dale. He had a sad and concerned expression on his face. He could probably guess what the verdict would be too.

The moment they got into the bedroom, Carl crossed his arms and sat down on the bed, pouting. Apparently, he wanted to go listen to the conversation. Rosie didn't see why he was so mad about it, because they could still hear everyone. Their voices were a bit muffled by the walls, but it was not like they were being particularly quiet.

Rosie stayed by the door, sliding down against the wall to sit and listen. She looked at her boots as she listened to them argue, remembering that Randall liked the boots.

"Do you think they should kill him?" Carl suddenly asked. Rosie looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. She was surprised he suddenly wanted to talk to her again. Maybe he got over whatever he was mad at her for.

"No," Rosie answered, picking at the seam on the side of her pants.

"Why? He's bad," Carl said, furrowing his eyebrows at Rosie.

"I've been bad. Should they kill me?" Rosie asked, glaring at Carl.

He rolled his eyes. "That's not the same. He's bad in a different way."

"Doesn't mean he should just die."

"Merle killed your dad because he was a bad person, and now you're better off," Carl said, raising his eyebrows. Rosie's eyes widened as her eyebrows furrowed. She bit down hard on her lip, trying to keep herself calm. "What?" Carl asked, "It's true."

How does he know Merle killed Daddy? Why does he think I'm better off without my dad? Why does everyone think that? I know he wasn't the best, but that doesn't mean it's good that he's dead. He was my dad.

"I heard my mom and dad talking about it after you got back from Atlanta. Mom said he was a bad dad and Dad said that Merle killed him. And now you're better off. Randall has to die, so we'll be better off," Carl reasoned.

Stupid Lori. Stupid Rick. Pussy ass cop.

"Leave me alone," Rosie said, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"It's true."

Feeling the self-control drain from her body with every word Carl said, Rosie stood up and left the room. She didn't care if they'd yell at her. It was better than punching Carl for the third time. She went into the dining room, taking a seat at the table and putting her head in her arms. The adults' voices were much more clear now, not having the closed doors muffling their words.

"You once said that we don't kill the living," Dale was saying.

"Well, that was before the living tried to kill us," Rick responded, his voice more gruff and more quiet than Dale's.

"But don't you see? If we do this, the people that we were- the world that we knew is dead! And this new world is ugly! It's... harsh! It's- it's survival of the fittest! And that's a world I don't wanna live in," Dale shouted. Rosie scooted her chair back, trying to see into the room, but it was no use. The house wasn't laid out that way. So she stood up and neared the doorway, peaking around it. "And I don't believe that any of you do. Rosie doesn't! Think about the message you're sending her and Carl!"

"Rosie doesn't understand-" Lori started to say.

"She does understand. She understands the importance of a person's life!" Dale countered, waving his hands for emphasis.

"She is not safe with him here," Rick said.

"You don't know that!" Dale shouted. His eyes began to well with tears. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking as he did so, "let's just do what's right."

Silence.

"Isn't there anybody else who's gonna stand with me?"

More silence.

"He's right," Andrea suddenly said. Rosie's eyebrows raised, not expecting Andrea to agree with her and Dale. She just seemed harsh. "We should try to find another way."

Shane stared at her, his mouth open and his arms crossed, but he didn't say anything.

I hate that guy.

"Anybody else?" Rick asked. Nobody said a thing. Rosie felt the urge to go in there and speak herself, but she knew no one would listen. She was just a kid. No one cared what she had to say. They wouldn't trust anything she had to say anyway, not with her having been talking to Randall.

Dale scrunched his nose up, holding back tears. "Are y'all gonna watch too? No, you'll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being. I won't be a party to it," he said before starting to leave the room. He stopped next to Daryl, putting a hand on his shoulder. "This group is broken."

And with that, he was gone.

•

Night had fallen and Rosie watched from the window as Daryl led Randall to the barn with Shane and Rick. She felt like throwing up. She hated it. She didn't want him to die, and it bothered her even more that Daryl was the one marching him to his death and that Rick would be the one to pull the trigger. Rick said he and Daryl were her friends. If they were her friends, why would they do this knowing she didn't want them to? She didn't understand.

Rosie turned from the window when she heard footsteps approaching. She watched with confusion as Carl quietly slipped out the front door. Forgetting that she was mad at him, Rosie followed him out to the porch.

"Where're ya goin'?" she asked, making him freeze and turn to face her. He didn't say anything for a moment, hoping she'd just go away, but she didn't. She just stared at him expectantly.

"The barn," he said, shrugging as if it were obvious.

"Why?"

"I wanna watch," Carl said. He turned away and started walking to the barn. Rosie watched with wide eyes, trying to comprehend what he just said.

He wants to watch?

She sat down on the top porch step, her legs up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her mind was racing, but when was it ever not racing anymore? She waited silently for the gunshot.

But it never came.

The barn doors swung open, Shane marching out angrily. Daryl followed, pulling Randall along with him. Rosie jumped to her feet, running over to Daryl and Randall. "What's goin' on?" she asked, her voice much more energetic and optimistic than before.

"Ro- Rosie?" Randall's shaky voice asked.

Daryl pushed Randall's back hard to keep him walking. "Get yer ass back to camp," Daryl growled out, looking over at Rosie. She just stared at him, unmoving. "Now!" Daryl snapped, making Rosie jump.

Nevertheless, Rosie reluctantly started walking towards camp, where everyone was gathered. As she neared the tents and the small fire surrounded by people, she decided that she didn't want to be around them. She wanted to be around Dale. He seemed to be the only person who cared about Randall's life, and he'd be happy to hear that Randall's execution was likely being postponed or maybe even cancelled.

So, Rosie passed the tents and headed straight to the RV, assuming that was where Dale would be. She climbed up the steps, almost tripping on the third one, but when she got inside and looked at the table, Dale wasn't sitting at it.

"Mr. Dale?" she said quietly, walking further into the RV. She checked the back bedroom behind the curtain, but he wasn't there. Rosie sighed to herself as she climbed back out of the RV, jumping back down to the ground off of the last stair.

She heard the scream when her red cowboy boots hit the dirt. Her head shot up in the direction it came from as her hand went to the knife on her belt, as if checking to see it was still there. Seeing as she had a weapon, Rosie took off towards the screams, almost tripping and falling in her oversized boots.

As she got closer, Rosie recognized the voice as Dale's.

She ran faster, if that was even possible. Then she saw it. A walker above Dale, using its nails to claw into his stomach. Her eyes widened, locking onto the blood and guts pouring out of him, and she pushed herself to run even faster.

Before she got there, though, the walker was tackled by Daryl, before being stabbed in the head. Daryl ran back over to Dale, kneeling down in front of him. "Help! Over here!" he screamed, waving his arms around.

Rosie finally reached Dale a few moments later, dropping to her knees in front of him. Dale's eyes were wide open, staring into Rosie's. "Mr. Dale," she breathed out, placing her hand on the man's shoulder. Tears flooded her eyes and her face scrunched up as she tried to contain her emotions.

Rick appeared on the other side of Dale, his hands going to the sides of the older man's face. "Listen to me, alright? Just listen to me. Ok, hold on now," Rick was saying. Dale's eyes moved from Rosie's to Rick's. "Get Hershel!"

"No, no, no, no, no," Rosie was whispering to herself. Not again, not again, not again. The whole thing reminded her of finding her own father dead in the woods, all torn up. But this was Dale. He was so nice to her. He agreed with her about Randall. He answered her questions. He was her friend. And now he was lying in the grass, flat on his back, with his organs spilling from the gaping hole in his stomach.

A hand landed on Rosie's shoulder, pushing her lightly out of the way. It was Hershel. She hadn't even heard anyone else's voices, but now everyone was there. "He won't make the trip," Hershel said.

"We'll have to do the operation here," Rick insisted.

"Rick," Hershel said, placing his hand on Rick's shoulder.

Rick understood what that meant immediately, shouting out in agony, "No! No!"

It didn't take long for Rosie to understand what it meant, too. Tears started to stream down her face uncontrollably. Her breathing was erratic, her eyes stuck wide open as she stared at Dale's horrified expression.

Rick pulled his gun out of its holder, pointing it at Dale's forehead. Dale's face was scrunched up in pain as he suffered, but Rick couldn't pull the trigger. Daryl took the gun from Rick's hand, pointing it down at Dale.

"Sorry, brother."

And he pulled the trigger.

Rosie felt her body go weak at the sound of the gunshot, her hands lifting to the roots of her hair, gripping on tight and pulling, hoping the slight stinging sensation would distract herself the sudden pain she was feeling. She wasn't sure where the pain was coming from or why it was there, she just wanted it to stop. She wanted everything to stop.

I didn't get to tell him about the dinosaurs.

Arms wrapped around Rosie's body, pulling her back and away from Dale. She didn't fight them, feeling incredibly weak. The person put their hands on her shoulders, forcibly turning her away from the sight of Dale's now dead body. Rough hands grabbed onto her wrists, pulling her hands away from her hair. Then one of the hands moved to her back and stayed there as Rosie knelt and cried, her hands covering her tear-stained face.

It didn't matter how many dead bodies Rosie saw every day- nothing compared to seeing the dead bodies of the people she cared about.

Dale's. Daddy's.

Fraser's.

"Come on," the person said, their voice low and grumbly.

Daryl's voice.

The hand Daryl had on Rosie's back moved to wrap his arm around her, helping her to her feet. Rosie leaned into Daryl's side as they walked back to the tent. When they got to the tent, Daryl unzipped the flap and led Rosie inside, towards her sleeping bag on the left side of the tent. He unzipped the sleeping bag and opened it up.

"Lay down," he said, lightly pushing Rosie towards the sleeping bag. She did what he said, not having the strength to say anything back or argue. She didn't see the point.

After slipping off her boots, Rosie laid down in the sleeping bag, burying her face in her arms as she laid on her stomach. She felt the blanket cover her back, then felt a small weight land on the sleeping bag beside her head. Peaking out from her arms, Rosie saw that it was the velociraptor toy. She held it in her hand, squeezing onto it tightly.

I didn't get to tell him about them.

Every time Rosie thought she was just about to fall asleep, another image of what she saw that night flashed in her eyes, jerking herself awake again. Everything was silent, the only noises being the chirping crickets, Daryl's steady breathing, and Rosie's own shaky breathing.

She felt like crying again, but there were no tears left in her eyes, so she was left with an empty feeling in her throat and in her heart.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been trying to fall asleep for. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. It didn't matter. It was no use trying to sleep like that, after everything.

Rosie lifted her head from her arms, peaking over at the right side of the tent. Daryl was in his sleeping bag, his back turned to her as it rose and fell steadily. She watched for a few moments, trying to match her shaky breathing to his steady breathing. It wasn't easy.

Feeling restless and afraid, Rosie slipped out of the sleeping bag. She stood up, rubbing her eyes to get rid of whatever substance was leftover by her tears. She kept her velociraptor in her left hand as she reached down to the corner of her sleeping bag with her right. She lifted the sleeping bag and dragged it over, closer to the right side of the tent.

Now satisfied with where her sleeping bag was placed, Rosie climbed back into it, lying on her left side. She continued trying to match her breathing to the steady rise and fall of Daryl's back, and eventually let her eyes flutter shut.