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NELLIE HAWTHORNE HAS NEVER been a jumpy person. She'd never flinch at horror movies, she never freaked out when her parents dragged her to those cheap haunted houses during Halloween. Nellie would laugh when a scare actor jumped out at her, laughing when she fails to scream and they look disappointed even under their clown makeup.

       But she'd be lying if she said she wasn't on edge since Zach's death. Ever motion is closer to death. Every breath could be her last one.

The old garage they're in creaks with every step they take, the walls feel like they're shaking and......it smells like death.

                 But what doesn't when that's what fills the Earth now?

               "Look," Daryl gestures to the old car battery in the corner of the room. Nellie carefully approaches him, boots skimming the dirty pavement floor. Her chocolate eyes bounce around everywhere, noticing every shadow of a moving branch from the shutters. "Cells look pretty dry," Bob says, gaining her attention. "What's that mean?" The teen girl asks. Daryl clicks his tongue, "Ain't nothin' to worry about. Just need some distilled water," He dismisses.

           Nellie nods as if she understands and then the three start to look around for anything else that's useful. She turns carefully and immediately, Nellie is smacked in the face with a disgusting smell.

One that smells like old food and rotting. She looks down at her feet, jumping back at the sight of a dark brown puke spot right in front of her.

          "That's puke," Daryl states. Nellie scoffs, "Thanks, Captain Obvious." The man rolls his eyes at her, shining his flashlight on the blue container of antifreeze and the red solo cups that surround it. "Those douchebags in the bushes took themselves out—holding hands—kumbaya style," Daryl remarks. Nellie snorts in amusement, staring at the old boxes of beer beside them. "Does beer go bad? It's just fermented wheat, right?" She asks, poking at the ale box. Daryl presses his lips together, "I ain't gettin' you drunk. Plus, that brand is shit."

             "How does them wanting to go out together as they lived douchebags?" Bob questions. Nellie glances at the beers one more time but refrains. She's never been drunk nor tipsy and the first time won't be in a random garage with shitty beer.

"It does if she could have gotten out," Daryl responds. "Everybody makes it, till they don't. People nowadays are dominoes. What they did, maybe it's about not having to watch them fall," Bob goes on.

         Nellie and Daryl share a borderline judging glance before looking away from each other. "Right," Daryl gruffly says, grabbing a jug of water. Raspy breathing makes Nellie freeze for a moment. A small moment that pisses her off. A moment that could've killed her if she wasn't such a scaredy cat all the sudden. Nellie curses to herself, telling herself to get her shit together as they round the aisles.

          The breathing belongs to a walker of course. He's buried under the rumble of aisles and products. There's a thick yellow rope wrapped around his body. Suicide by hanging.

"Did he want to be a walker?" Nellie almost scoffs at the stupidity. Why would you kill yourself but want to remain as such a hungry, disgusting monster?

She shakes her head and walks away with Daryl, ignoring the pleas from the walker. Right as she reaches the doorway, she hears the snarling stop and that crunch of a walker's skull.

             Bob had reunited the walker with it's family. More empathy than she could've shown. Nellie sighs at herself and walks back outside to see a green mini van uncovered, Ty and her mother standing in front of it.

             "We got a battery," Nellie announces. She doesn't make eye contact with her mother, still pissed about her outburst from before. "We got the car," Michonne adds.

         Daryl pops the hood to the vehicle and Nellie stands next to it, watching him mess with the mechanics of it. A cigarette is lit in his mouth, smoke infiltrating the air along with Nellie's lungs. But she didn't mind, he's teaching her shit. This is how this works, right?

        "You never told us about the group you were with before," Daryl says, slightly muffled as more smoke fills the sky. "Which one?" Bob shrugs. Daryl just shrugs, not pushing it further. "You know, when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walkin'," Bob explains. Nellie holds back her groan of annoyance, just wanting to work on this car.

        "Nells!" Michonne softly calls out her daughter. Nellie groans this time, kicking off the car before joining her mother. Arms crossed, face stoic, she speaks a quick, "What?"

Michonne sighs, already knowing how this'll go. "I apologize for how I reacted but—I can't deal with hearin' about him," She says lowly. Nellie sighs annoyedly, tapping her foot impatiently, "Why? Can I know why? He gave us Andre—he was a father when mine couldn't be—"

             "And he ended up abandoning his kid, too," MIchonne sharply cuts her daughter off. Nellie stands back, huffing at her words, "The hell does that mean? He died because the camp got raided!"

              "He killed Andre because he was too high to protect him!" Michonne admits.

Her face falls but so does Nellie's heart. Everything she had known about Mike and Terry is suddenly warped. Everything she's known about her mother is warped. All she sees is a liar, someone that didn't trust her enough to deal with the truth of her baby brother's death.

          The world is quiet. Not a sound is heard. Not even her breathing that she knows is heavy because she can feel the rapid up and down of her chest. 

              Michonne has her jaw clenched. She screwed up. She knows that. A year or more of lying to her daughter to protect her but Nellie won't see it that way. No, she knows she'll see it as betrayal. Just like Andrea did to them, just like Mike and Terry did.

           "Hey, cars ready," Daryl calls out. A heated lump of tears sits in Nellie's throat. Curse words dare to spew out to protect her dignity rather than tears. Nellie blinks for a moment, taking solace in the moment of darkness.

       "I call shotgun," Nellie says, spinning to turn away from her mother, hoping dirt kicks up with the speed. "Bob's already there," Daryl says. "Bob?" Nellie calls out.

     "Hm?" He hums in response as Nellie meets him atb the passenger door. "Up," Nellie orders the grown man, not caring about the judging looks from the adults. Bob sighs but when he sees that the teen's face hasn't faltered, he complies.

Nellie hops in the passenger seat of the mini van, glaring at her mother from the dirty windshield.

      QUIET. TENSE. THAT'S HOW the ride to the veterinary school was. Nellie didn't say a word. No one said a word in fear she might blow up the vehicle.

             But, now they find themselves in front of the very place they've been searching for. With their weapons out, the group scans the area with each set of doors they kick in. Nellie sticks herself beside Daryl, ignoring every movement or breath from Michonne.

         The room before them has cages on either side and some on the tables. Nellie can feel her mom's eyes on her as she grabs supplies. Michonne has a battle within herself. Knowing what she did was to protect Nellie, let her have some innocence left in this world, something to keep her going. Thinking they were killed by raiders and not by their own neglection. That's an easier pill to swallow as a sixteen year old.

          She's following Daryl around like a lost puppy while her mom, Bob and Ty are gathering medicine. "I found another tube," Nellie says, clearing her throat. The situation keeps replaying in her head, making her chest hurt. She stuffs the item in her bag, tying her braids up in a big hair tie as anger heats up her skin. "What's up wit' you?" Daryl asks.

         Nellie sighs, shrugging, "Nothing. Why?" She states flatly. Daryl clicks his tongue, "You're not attached at your mother's hip."

            "She pissed me off."

             "I can tell. I won't badger you though," Daryl grunts, grabbing more stuff. Nellie sends him a small smile, thankful he's not asking her a million questions.

          A few quiet minutes go by. Nellie's head is just filled with the argument though. Images flash of that day. The day she saw three boys she loved with rotting skin and hungry mouths, wanting to chop into her and her mother. Andre's grayed skin. Not because of raiders but because Mike and Terry were high. The men they had on leashes behind them for months killed her brother. Her little mouse.

                 Daryl exits the room so Nellie follows behind him, joining the other three. "How'd you do?" Bob asks. "Bags, tubes, clamps, connectors. Everything on the list," Tyreese holds up the full bag. Nellie glances at her mom, catching her concerned gaze for a moment before angrily turning away. "What about y'all?" Daryl gestures to the other two.

          "Yeah, we got it all," Bob replies. Michonne scans over the medicine cabinet one last time, "Yeah, we're good."

           Daryl nudges Nellie, knocking her from her trance. "Ready to roll?" He gently questions. "Yeah. I'm over this place," Nellie says, looking right at her mom.

           Carefully, they round each dark corner, hearts in their chests, some more thank others. Quietly, they press their backs against the wall. Snarls quickly sound from the room next to them. Wordlessly, they shuffle down the hall and away from the sounds of the monsters. "Up ahead," Michonne calls out.

          Nellie has her cleaver clenched in her hand. The anxiety from in all is smacking her in the face at the worst moment. They pull themselves into a dark room, closing the door with a creak. Nellie's heart is beating all too fast for her liking. Images of Andre won't stop flashing through her mind. Enmity has filled her towards both her parents. All three of her parents, actually.

The lying. The abandonment. The neglectance. Everything that was hidden from her for so long.

        "Hey! Door's busted," Bob says. "Oh. hold up," Daryl calmly tells him. Nellie's back hits a desk, making it shift with a loud creak. She jumps, hands on her heart as walkers growl against the flimsy wooden door. Michonne is leading the group. Her light bounces off cages and despite how annoyed she is with her mother, Nellie finds herself gravitating towards the safety bubble that her mom wears.

      They find another way out. They're nearly at it when a walker pops out, grabbing at Tyreese who quickly bashes it's head in with a hammer until it's brain have splattered everywhere. Nellie clutches her cleaver as they reach the door. A long chained padlock sits around it. Her mom reaches to get it undone but rotted fingers crawl through the slat, causing them all to move back.

          "How many?" Daryl fearlessly asks, shining his light on the hands. "Too many," Nellie flatly answers, hoping the fear she has isn't evident in her tone. It becomes harder to hide though when a rumbling sounds from behind them.

More walkers flood through the other door, leaving them surrounded. Subconsciously Michonne grabs Nellie but her daughter shimmies out of the hold. Teen angst prevails over safety.

            "We can take 'em!" Tyreese yells. "No! They're infected. Same as the prison! We fire at 'em, get their blood on us, breathe it in. We didn't come all this way to get sick!" Bob yells. Nellie's jaw is clenched, heart thumping, "You two are making more noise than needed," She just barely whispers over the growls. "How do we know those are any different?" Tyreese questions, gesturing to the walkers behind them. "We don't," Michonne simply answers.

           "Well, it's gotta change sometime," Daryl says, kicking a leg of a chair to bust the chain off. The walkers are closer. Nellie can smell their decomposing bodies and breath. Daryl places the leg between the chain and with one strong twist, the chain and lock falls off. Michonne pushes Nellie back as the walkers growl hungrily towards them. Fire fills Nellie's emotions.

                        Her mom thinks she wasn't ready enough to know about the death of her baby brother, all those warm, safe feelings her mother offered a second away phases through Nellie's body like the ghost of those she lost that day.

               Angry and determined to show her mom she's not a kid, Nellie pushes passed the adults and slams the blade of her cleaver into a walker's head as shots go off.

          Michonne swings, knocking a few heads off their shoulders. Nellie retracts her blade, quickly killing more walkers, lips sealed tightly shut as their crimson liquid falls upon her face. Once it's cleared Daryl takes back his crossbow and leads them through the dark hall. The snarls of the dead tease them as they run away as quickly as possible with all their supplies.

         "Nellie, stay by me!" Michonne shouts. Nellie scoffs, purposely sticking closer to Daryl as they reach a hall. Michonne sighs at her daughter and her behavior but the girl ignores her. Wiping the blood off her blade against her cargo pants.

Snarls and growls only get louder, emerging from seemingly every room. One pops out next to Nellie and she shoves the blade through its eye until it falls to the ground. Bob is throwing down chairs, blocking their way.

          Nellie's heartbeat mixes with the growls, head throbbing. They get to another room but there's no way out. "There's no exit!" Michonne announces. "Then we make one," Daryl says, hopping next to the window. "How?" Nellie yells, breathing quickening. "Down!" Tyreese shouts and suddenly a fire extinguisher is thrown into the window next to Nellie and Daryl, glass shattering loudly. A hand on her shoulder pulls her back, keeping her in the corner.

          It's then that Nellie gets a good look of the horde trying to kill them. Bob is right. Their eyes are blown out, blood staining their faces. Just like their friends at the prison. It's like a shitty horror scene, one that Nellie feels like Koa would love if she wasn't in it.

"Nellie, you go first," Daryl says, pushing her to the window. Her big brown eyes bounce between the man and her mom.

             "No, you guys—"

           "Nellie, no time to argue, okay? Now!" Daryl shouts, pulling Nellie to the window sill. Nellie takes a breath, staring down at the shifty roof tiles. The growls ring in her ears. Nellie forces herself to jump out onto the roof, holding her breath as it shakes beneath her. She looks over her shoulder, a small sigh of relief when she sees her mom emerge through the window.

        Walkers reach up at them, hungry and desperate as they look for a way off the roof. One last thud sounds but it's louder than the others. Nellie sucks an annoyed breath through her teeth when she sees Bob has fallen down and the bag of supplies is in the grasp to walkers.

Tyreese grabs him first, pulling by the legs. "Let the bag go!" All the adults shout but he's doing anything but giving up. Honestly, Nellie is thankful because if they lose this bag, she might lose her shit after the day she's had.

     With a final tug, Bob grabs the bag. A sound of glass bouncing off the roof catches their attention. Nellie sighs, running a sweaty hand over her face. Her and Daryl share a perplexed look as he bends down towards the bag Bob fought for. He lifts the flap, revealing a bottle of whiskey.

          Nellie's eye physically twitches. No meds. Just alcohol in his fucking bag.

She thinks about pushing him in the gaggle of walkers along with his whiskey but she holds back, imagining it in anger instead. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, Bob?!" Nellie seethes, pushing the adult by the chest. Michonne gently pulls her angry daughter back, letting Daryl handle it. Nellie is shaking with distaste, truly ready to let Bob rot.

          Daryl is glaring at Bob, bottle in hand, "You got no meds in your bag? Just this?" Bob looks like a kid caught, no idea what to say. "You're gonna let my friends die because you wanted some cheap whiskey?!" Nellie shouts, lunging forward but Michonne keeps a hold on her.

It's an all too familiar situation to Michonne, one that Nellie just learned about yet she feels like she's back watching Andre's corpse. "You should have kept walking that day," Daryl says lowly.

Daryl scoffs and then prepares to throw the whiskey. "Don't," Bob suddenly warns, hand on his pistol. Flames are practically emitting off Nellie. "You fuckin' stupid? You gonna shoot us over whiskey! We should dump your ass to those walkers," Nellie bitterly comments.

         Daryl gets right in Bob's face though. His hand still on the pistol. The remaining three share a look, knowing what this could turn into. Frankly, Nellie doesn't care. The crossbow wielder takes the gun away, clutching Bob's shirt before slamming him into the brick wall.

        "Just let it go, Daryl. The man's made his choice," Tyreese calls out. "No, fuck this. Kill him," Nellie throws her hands in the air. "Nellie—stop," Michonne begs.

               Daryl listens, letting him go. Bob refuses to make eye contact as he speaks, "I didn't wanna hurt nobody. It was just for when it gets quiet."

                      Daryl places the drink against Bob's chest, "You take one sip. When those meds get to our people, I will beat your ass into the ground. You hear me?" He grows before walking away. Nellie scoffs one time before following after Daryl, hatred that she hasn't felt in months boiling in her chest for far too many reasons today.

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hey guys things might be slow bc my grandpa passed last night. so sorry love u