Alexander Pov
I dug through cabinets of medicines in a CVS searching for literally anything that had to do with post traumatic stress disorder.

I thought I had made it pretty clear to that rag tag group that I was never coming back. Though I did take a strange liking to John. Something I had never felt before. Almost like a pressure to impress him and make him feel good.

I brushed it off and grabbed a few bottles of pills and stuffed them in my bag. And sleeping pills. In case...I need to sleep...for a long amount of time...and never wake up.

Happy thoughts.

Push those bad thoughts out of the way. Drop kick them out the window. I saw a mirror in the building.

I realized that my hair was much longer than when the apocalypse first started. Which took me off guard but I decided to leave it that way.
It looks badass.
I'm not Mr.NiceGuy anymore. I also drop kicked him out the window.

"Hey! You're Alex right?" I heard someone call.

"That depends, who's asking?" I asked, looking at all the cigarettes and debating wether or not I should get some.

"I'm Aaron. Remember? The guy who saved your ass a while back?" He asked.

"Oh. Right."

"So...how's saving that kid and their group go?" He asked, standing next to me.

"...Not so great. They're okay, but I regret it." I said.

I hopped over the little desk and grabbed a few packs of cigarettes and a lighter. "Why?" Aaron asked.

"Turns out theres some crappy people out there and they really opened my eyes to that. And the kid died. He was eight years old." I told him.

"What was his name? Could I have some of those electric cigs?" He asked.

(A/N: I'm sorry that ya got ripped to shreds Philip. )

"Philip. And sure." I said, tossing him some.

"Where's your group?" I asked.

"Probably somewhere in Virginia fucking each other senseless." He said.

"Virginia?" I asked.

"Yeah. Left one day and only gave me a note to tell me that they were hitting the road." He said solemnly.

"That sucks dick man." I muttered, hopping over the little desk.

He chuckled. "What's funny?" I asked.

"You use American slang but you have a slight accent in your voice." He said.

"Oh shut up."
"So...what happened to you being all smiles?" He asked.

"Again, that group really opened my eyes." I told him.

"Hey, wanna stay with me for a while?" He asked.

"Yeah. Thanks." I replied trying not to let any real emotion show.

On the inside I was freaking out. I'm in a group with a guy who's not a cannibal, a ten year old or an asshole! I mean Martha was great but I don't want to have to watch a ten year old get ripped into pieces by walkers.
That's just something I wouldn't be able to carry on my shoulders.
And I'm already carry a 1,176 pound weight.

Yes.

I've fucking counted every horrible thing I've done.
Call me psychotic.
I wouldn't completely disagree.