Listen up, y'all! This isn't an official trigger warning, just a general warning... This one is brutal, and that's coming from me. And, in my Ellie Dixon book, I gave Maggie and Glenn twins (Glenn didn't die in the line up) and I killed one of the two month old twins. I have no mercy, and yet even I think this is brutal. So, uhm... Yea, good luck, my lovelies!

That night, Hershel and Brooks stayed in the bar. Brooks couldn't bring herself to sleep in the kitchen, so the two of them sat opposite each other in the wine cellar. It had all the barrels, but the barrels were drained of all wine. It was a bit cold, but nothing that they couldn't handle. Especially as Brooks pulled Sebastian's flannel around her tighter. She was only wearing her blue shorts, and a white top, so she really needed that flannel. Brooks was leaning against one empty barrel, while Hershel leaned against the one opposite her, with outstretched legs their feet were inches apart.

They didn't want to get caught in the forest in the dark, because those nights really were the worst. 'Sleeping' outside, surrounded by danger... You can barely blink you're so scared of the unknown. However, the pair were so excited they couldn't sleep anyways... Well, Hershel was excited, and though Brooks was too, she couldn't help but think of those five people who wouldn't be making it to this place called Terminus.

Hershel kept Maggie's letter with him, in his breast pocket, closest to his heart. His way of keeping his daughters in his heart, until he had them back in his arms. The smile never left his face, just knowing that Maggie was alive, let him know that the bus made it. Let him know that Beth made it, along with everyone else which even included little toddler Judith.

"What're you gonna do when we get to that community and see Beth and Maggie?" Brooks asked, striking up conversation.

Hershel hummed, thinking it over in his head. Picturing his daughters faces. "I don't think I'll be able to speak." He admitted. "I'll just hug them. I just need to feel them in my arms again."

Brooks smiled. "Should be tomorrow, if not it'll be the day after at the latest."

"What about you? Who's the first person you're runnin' too?" Hershel asked.

Brooks thought about it for a moment, before the name came off her tongue easily. "Carl." She didn't know why she chose Carl out of all people, but she did. When she pictured all of their people standing there... She imagined Carl running towards her first.

Hershel warmly smiled, aware of Carl's feelings towards Brooks. He didn't say them though, that wasn't his place. However, in this new place called Terminus, he was excited to see the two grow up together, and realise things about themselves, as well as each other. The conversation got a little darker with Hershel's next words. "How are you, Brooks? After... After them all?"

She sniffed, looking down to her hands. "I'll be alrigh' once me 'n' you get our people back. Once I see you huggin' Maggie and Beth again? That'll be the moment everything changes. The second you get your girls back, is the same second I'll be okay."

Hershel brought up a hand to wipe away a happy tear that managed to slip down his wrinkled face. "I never lost one of my girls." He admitted, smiling at Brooks softly. This took Brooks by surprise, her lips parted slightly as her forehead creased with emotion. "Truth is, you, Sophia, Judith and Carl became like the grandkids I always wanted to have."

She couldn't help but smile at him, she sniffed away any emotions that wanted to pour down her face before she responded. "I know that Will... Was technically my grandad, but... You're like the kind, old grandpa I always wanted too, Hershel."

"I don't think callin' me old was necessary." He joked, causing Brooks to laugh loudly, her chest shaking with how loudly she laughed. It wasn't all that funny, but to her it was the best thing she'd heard in over a week, so she laughed, and he laughed, and they laughed together. They smiled together, like a real grandfather and granddaughter... Because, that's what they were, in their hearts. "Oh, I do love you, Pumpkin." He said through his chuckles.

She smiled back, coming down from her laughing fit. She didn't say it back, because Brooks couldn't even remember the last time she told someone she loved them. It didn't come naturally to her, admitting love, she just didn't know how to do it. So, she didn't. She just smiled at him.

Before she had the chance to say anything else, there was a loud door slamming upstairs which signalled somebody entering the bar. From the sound of the footsteps, there was more than one. "Come out, come out, where ever you are!" The man's voice sung.

Both Hershel and Brooks' smiles faded as they scrambled to stand. "What do we do?" Brooks whispered, looking up to Hershel. "That definitely did not sound like one of our people."

"Okay, okay come here." Hershel whispered, pulling her over to a barrel. He easily managed to find the latch, that opened the top half of the barrel. Like he suspected, empty. He grabbed under her arms, and helped her to climb in. Once she was settled inside, she turned to help him in, naive to the fact that Hershel would never fit in there with her. "Stay quiet." He ordered, pulling the lid down, but she held her arms up to stop him.

"What about you?" She whispered, fear in her eyes.

Hershel clenched his jaw as he thought about it. "You have to live, Brooks. If this doesn't go well, I need you to tell my girls that I tried. I need you to tell them that I love them. I need you to stay quiet."

Brooks couldn't respond, because they heard the door to the cellar opening, so Hershel silently shut the lid against Brooks' will. He also shut the latch, knowing full well she had a gun and a knife in there with her. He was weaponless, but he didn't take Brooks', because he needed her to have as much chance of survival as possible.

"Ya down here? We know you are." A man's voice called out, he was surrounded by three men and a younger boy. The boy was maybe about thirteen, Hershel didn't recognise him, and Brooks couldn't see them.

Hershel stepped out from behind the barrel, allowing the men to see him. "I'm here." He said, arms raised and taking a couple steps towards them. "What do you want with me?"

The main grinned, evilly. "We were watching you for a while, mate... Just tell us where the girl is, and we'll let you go."

Hershel briefly shut his eyes, before he opened them again. "What girl?" One of the men laughed at the man's desperate attempt to play dumb.

The main guy spoke again. "Alright, that's how you wanna play this? Well, we best get to know each other first, then. I'm Marcus, this is William, Bobby, Freddy and this little chappy here is Charlie." His English accent came through thick as he grinned. "And who're you?"

Wetting his lips before responding, he figured there was no harm in an answer. "Hershel." What were they gonna do? Look up his records, his family? Sell his information online? Hershel's heart rate did pick up as he assessed each man, and the boy. All of them were armed with at least two loaded guns, and knives. They had the type of look in their eyes, that told him that they would kill to get what they want... However, the boy who was nothing much to speak of other than pasty and small, looked nervous, looked around him... He looked scared. He didn't want to be with those men... But, there he was.

Marcus smiled, nodding. "Good to know ya, Hershel. Now, here's how this is gonna go. I'm gonna ask you one more time, and if you lie to me again? We'll beat ya till you turn into one of the dead walking around this godforsaken Earth... You hearin' me, Hershel?" When the old man didn't respond, Marcus nodded in understanding. "Alright, Hershel... Where's the girl?"

Hershel hesitated. Not because he doubted what he was going to say, but because he didn't want to die. He didn't want this to be his last day on Earth, but he would embrace it for Brooks, because he knew what those men would do to her if they found her... So, Hershel looked between the four, wet his lips, and spoke those five words that signed his death sentence. "I don't know any girl."

"Charlie, ya little shit, find her." Marcus ordered as himself, William, Bobby and Freddy approached Hershel. Marcus shot out both Hershel's legs... Of course one of them was prosthetic, but it had the same affect... Having him crying out in pain on the ground. Brooks' eyes watered as her hands slapped over her mouth. She heard kicks, grunts, punches and cries... But, she couldn't move. Brooks was paralysed with fear.

'Ya little shit'... That's what Marcus called Charlie. That's what Will called Brooks. As Brooks listened to the grunts, and cries of pain... She was suddenly seven years old again. She was seven, and hiding in her wardrobe with fat, old Buckster, as she listened to Will beating the crap out of Daryl. Despite Daryl being in his twenties, he took it, while Brooks hid, sobbed and listened to it all. And, there she was again. Listening to Hershel, who was in his seventies, take a beating while she hid in an empty barrel.

It all happened so fast. She couldn't really hear the words the men were saying, because her head felt like it was spinning. She heard 'waste of time', and 'useless old man', and harsh words like 'cripple' and 'half a man' when they found his plastic leg, which they also used to beat him. They thought beating him with his own leg was hilarious.

"Please!" Hershel cried out, an actual sob. Brooks had never heard Hershel crying in sadness before, crying in pain. He cried happy tears, because he was a happy man. He was a good man. He was always there for his daughters, for Carl, Sophia, Judith... In his final moments, he was there for Brooks. He gave up his chance of being with his family again, for Brooks. For a girl who rarely had a kind word to say, because Hershel's heart was a good one. His heart was pure.

When Brooks heard the door slam, she flinched in fear. She waited a few minutes, waiting for them to come back, or find her, or kill her. She wished for them to kill her, so she wouldn't have to leave the barrel and face her shame. It's not like she'd be able to kill them all, she had one knife and one bullet while there was five of them... She didn't know what she'd do to help, but she wished that she'd have done something.

Brooks pushed at the barrel lid, but it didn't budge because of Hershel locking it shut. She took her knife, and began prying off the old planks. She wasn't crying, but she was shaking and her breath was coming in short. Fear was eating at her. She couldn't hear Hershel, but he couldn't be dead. She couldn't lose him like she lost everyone else. She just couldn't. He was her grandpa Hershel, she couldn't be left with nobody. The first time they ever met he saved her from a beating... That couldn't be the last thing he ever did as well.

It only took three planks for Brooks to be able to escape from the top. Her eyes widened as she saw Hershel laying on his back. His leg beside him, he was covered in his own blood, red marks, seemingly broken bones. She screamed in fear as she climbed out, before she jumped down and sprinted to kneel beside him. Brooks cupped his cheeks as she stared at his shut eyes. His lips parted, as a wheeze escaped them. She gasped, and called out. "Grandpa Hershel!"

His eyes flickered open, and he stared up at her in fear. "Help... H- help me." He whispered, wheezes and groans accompanying the words. He tried to speak more, but all he could do was groan, and wheeze. There were tears in his eyes, that slipped down the sides of his face and into his grey hair.

Brooks could see he suddenly started to sweat significantly. His eyes were struggling to focus. Brooks sniffed back her emotion, and let out. "I'm just gonna take a look, alrigh'?" With that, she lifted up his shirt and saw the growing bruises on his abdomen. Bruises from impact wouldn't bruise that quickly... But, they would from internal bleeding. So, Brooks 'I read a book about it' Dixon, was suddenly regretting ever picking up her first book, because now she knew that Hershel was beyond repair. "It's okay." Brooks whispered, looking up to his panicked eyes.

Hershel nodded the best he could, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "O- o- okay?" He repeated, doing the best he could to respond.

Brooks smiled, the kindest, softest, most heart warming smile she could muster while she stared at his blue eyes for the last time. "Just close your eyes, Grandpa Hershel... I'll make it all go away." She whispered. He tried to respond, but all that happened was his wheezes and groans came out louder, so he flickered his eyes shut. "Just picture Maggie and Beth." Brooks said, reaching back for the gun. "Remember that they're alive, and they're okay. They're smiling, and they're happy. They're safe with everybody else." Brooks said, wrapping her hand around the gun to disguise the sound of her cocking it. "Everythin' is okay, Hershel. Your daughters are safe, and they love you."

Bang.
73 walkers.
7 people.

She left the prison with six bullets, and six friends. Every single person that she left the prison with? She ended up shooting in the head, with one of those bullets, and the same damn gun. 

Brooks sat there, a shaking mess as she stared at what was left of her family. What was Grandpa Hershel, a kind, loving, caring old man... Was now just a corpse on the ground of a wine cellar. He was now just any old thing that Brooks had killed so many of at this point. He was just another number on a long list. He was just another face amongst dozens. He was just another name to scratch off the list.

As Brooks stared at him, she didn't sob, or scream her heart out. She didn't fall to the ground, and crumble into a messy ball like she had so many times. She was angry. She was pissed. She wanted revenge. She saw a gun that one of them must have dropped in the chaos. Brooks picked herself up, walked over to it and grabbed the weapon. She checked the magazine, twelve bullets plus the one in the chamber.

She stared at the corpse, before she stormed out of the cellar, through the bar, and out into the woods. She knew that was where they would've gone, because she couldn't see them on the field or the road. Brooks promised herself she'd go back for Hershel, but first... She had to get her revenge.

It was like mother nature was finally on her side, as the wind carried the sound of their laughter towards her. It made her blood boil, and skin crawl, but she didn't care. She wasn't even phased when a walker of a man who looked like Will came towards her, and she killed it without even thinking of her past trauma. Usually, a lookalike would've sent her into a spiral, but she only had one thing on her mind... Murder.

Finally, she could see the light from the fire, and heard the sounds of their voices for herself instead of through the wind. As she hid behind a tree, watching them from the shadows, she didn't care how disappointed everyone would be in her. She didn't care that everybody she knew would be horrified that she was out to commit first degree murder. She cared that Hershel was dead, and it was because of those men.

"Remember, Charlie, we can't tell your dad 'bout this. You know how he feels 'bout us takin' girls for a night." Bobby said, eyeing the younger boy. Charlie silently nodded as he stared down at his shoes, thankful as hell that they never found the girl he couldn't help but recognise as they'd been watching her and the old man the whole day.

Marcus licked his lips. "Goddamn nothing to tell the boss, man. Couldn't even find the little bitch. That damn cripple kept it quiet."

"Not like we'd have long with her anyways." Freddy said. "Negan wants us back by sunset tomorrow, gotta leave soon."

As their camp fell into silence, Brooks pulled out one of their own guns. She stepped out from behind the tree, and into the light their campfire provided. "Heard you were lookin' for me." She said, as all the men jumped and turned to her. They scrambled for their guns. "Don't even think about it." She warned, but William didn't listen so she shot his left lung. She knew where to shoot, so he would be beyond saving, but would painfully bleed out as he struggled to breathe. They all gasped and watched their dying friend. "We all on the same page, now?"

Marcus took charge, like he did in the cellar. "You're the pretty girl we've been watchin' all day."

"I'm the pretty girl who's gonna kill you for what you did to 'im." She corrected, anger in her voice and danger in her narrowed eyes.

Bobby tried subtly going for his gun, so Brooks shot him in the same place she did William. She smiled wickedly as she listened to him painfully choking on his own blood as he struggled to get a breath. Charlie cried out, but she hadn't seen his face yet because he was standing behind Marcus. "How'd you know him?" Marcus asked.

Brooks didn't hesitate with her answer, giving him the only truth that mattered. "He was my grandfather. He was family... And you killed 'im... So, now I'm gonna kill you."

Freddy laughed. "Just put down the gun, pumpkin, we can talk about this."

The use of that nickname alone cost him his life, as Brooks pulled the trigger on him. He was standing closest to her, so his blood splattered onto her face... But, she didn't even flinch as she stared Marcus in the eyes. "Why'd you have to kill 'im?" She couldn't stop herself from asking.

Marcus licked his lips, thinking of words that would get him out of this. "He didn't have to die. We only wanted you... All he had to do was tell us where you were and we would've spared him." His plan was to distract her with blame failed, because Brooks knew she'd be doing enough of that for the rest of her life, this moment was for avenging Hershel, and nothing else.

Brooks lowered her arms, only an inch or so, and shot him in the dick. The loudest scream she'd ever heard roared from his mouth and echoed through the wind. With the last man down, Charlie turned on his feet and began sprinting into the forest. "I'll be back for you." She warned Marcus, before she ran after the boy.

With plenty of bullets in the gun, Brooks chased down Charlie. She was about to slow to a stop when she felt that recognisable tingling in her leg that warned her it was about to betray her... But, that's when she noticed a small foot sticking out from a tree ahead. The moon was bright tonight, shining down to help her with her revenge. It was like mother nature needed these people dead as well. "Please, God. Please." She heard his voice, small and timid. Petrified. 

"I see you." Brooks called out, walking slowly towards him. She heard a fearful cry, and approached him still. She got to the tree, and walked around it until she could see him, behind the gun she aimed at him. He was sitting on the ground, legs up to his chest as he was shaking. His eyes were red and puffy, fresh with tears that continued to fall. He cried out loudly when he saw her, but Brooks cocked her head to the side. Through her red vision of revenge, she recognised the young, small face. "Charlie?" Black hair, a small pale face, a white t-shirt striped with orange... Blue jeans which were stained from where he'd wet himself in fear. Brooks, despite having just signed the death warrant of numerous men, ignored that fact so that he could keep his dignity.

He nodded, wiping tears. "You're Brooks... You saved me once."

Brooks bit down on her bottom lip. Her finger itched on the trigger... But, she slowly lowered her hand. "Run." She ordered.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Charlie pushed himself to stand up on shaky legs. "What?"

"Run." Brooks repeated, staring him in the eyes. "I see you again? I'll kill you, Charlie, and I won't hesitate. Now, run."

The boy didn't need any more instructions, because he was sprinting off. Brooks stayed by that tree a moment, listening to his fading footsteps, before she made her way back to the dying men. The three she shot in the lungs were still alive, crying to themselves and twitching, shaking in agony. Marcus was beginning to stand up, trying to run away, but Brooks put her gun to the back of his head. She pressed it into his dark hair and heard him sob. "Please!"

She eyed their bags of supplies, around the men who had barely any life in them. "You have shovels in those bags?"

"Uh- uh- yea, yea? We- we have one." Marcus admitted.

"Get it!" She shouted. He screamed at her raised tone, but crawled over to the duffel with the shovel and pulled it out. Brooks leaned against a tree, still pointing a gun at him as she smiled. "Dig."

"D-dig?" He stuttered, holding onto his dick-less crotch. His blood was slowly seeping through his jeans and covering his hand, he was in agony. His whole body was shaking from the pain, but he wouldn't bleed out. Not just yet.

Brooks nodded. "A rectangle, two feet by six feet. Six feet deep. I don't care if we're here all night. Dig." 

And so, he did.

It took three hours, but Brooks didn't move. She didn't waver. She didn't break down and cry, she didn't feel any guilt when his three other men stopped crying out and twitching in pain. She felt nothing when they all bled to death in an agonisingly slow way. When Marcus sobbed and begged for a break, or to take the painkillers he had, Brooks just smiled and ensured that he kept digging.

For three hours he sobbed, shook with agony. His brain never once allowed him to stop feeling the pain from his crotch. The bullet had broken his bladder, or at least the part giving him control over it so he pissed himself three times. Brooks laughed at him, taunted him, mocked him. He cried, he wept, he prayed to God and begged for forgiveness. God did nothing for him. Brooks was in charge of this situation, and everybody knew it.

A man who kills and cries is a desperate one.
A man who kills and laughs, is a psychotic one.
- Brooks Dixon, 2010.

/----------\

Marcus collapsed to the floor, and Brooks approached the grave. It was two in the morning, the moon was still high and shining brightly. The bright sky allowed her to see the hole complete, exactly how she'd ordered it. She pointed to Bobby's corpse. "Throw 'im in."

The exhausted man in question raised his eyebrows, before a smile took over his lips and he nodded. "Thank you, thank you." He repeated, grabbing his friend's corpse and rolling him in without remorse.

Brooks' head cocked to the side a little. "For what?"

Marcus let out a breath. "I thought we were digging my grave."

Freddy slowly began twitching, and Brooks eyed him. "Now 'im." Brooks ordered. Marcus grabbed his friend, careful to avoid his hands, and threw Freddy in on top of Bobby. Brooks smiled again, watching as Freddy's walker's eyes began opening now too. "Kneel." Brooks ordered.

The man left alive flickered his eyes to her, furrowing his eyebrows. "Wh- what?"

Raising her gun, Brooks smiled. "I said kneel."

Marcus didn't hesitate to follow instructions, kneeling beside the grave which had two out of his three friends in it. Brooks walked around the grave, making sure to be careful of William's corpse, because he was coming alive too. "Pl- please, you don't have to do this." Marcus' fear was back, his breaths coming out short and terrified.

Brooks laughed, putting the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. "Beg me."

He knew to listen so his pleas rolled off his tongue easily as he watched Freddy beginning to figure out how to sit up. "Please, please! I don't wanna die! You're in charge, you've got the upper hand! You beat us! I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry! I'll live out the rest of my days in guilt and regret for what we did to that old man. I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry!"

She smiled, grabbing the back of his collar and pulling him closer to whisper in his year. "Make sure that when you get to Hell? You tell your friends you were killed by a thirteen year old girl, you fuckin' coward." And with that, Brooks shoved him forward into the grave. His screaming instantly began as Freddy tore him apart.

Brooks turned to William who was now on his feet, she grabbed his arm and tugged him forward too, throwing him in behind Marcus. The man was being torn apart, eaten by both walkers. Brooks simply walked away, grinning from ear to ear as his screams of agony tore through the forest like the walkers tore through his skin and ate him. Perhaps little Brooks Dixon's sweet heart was dead, but she was done taking shit from people.

74 walkers.
11 people.