you're a kid. Younger than most that were still alive in the apocalypse, 13, almost 14. Carl was the only other kid, and you understood each other quite well. That you couldn't be a kid. It just isn't possible in this apocalyptic world.

you'd have been dead long ago if it weren't for Daryl Dixon. He was a tough, pretty old, cold man. Yet he would never let harm fall upon any one of his people, especially you. You were all alone, you just had Daryl. he was your father, in every sense of the word, he just didn't accept that. He just didn't want to lose anyone else, let alone a kid. He'd lost far too many, he never really let his guard down.

and he regretted it.

plumes of black smoke rose in the air, half-shadowing the flames that licked the sides of the Terminus buildings, vehicles, ground, walkers. The destruction and chaos was clear, and through it all, you had stayed behind. There was a sniper on the roof, it would've got everyone before they even hit the treeline, but you killed him.

as soon as they breached the trees and jumped the fence, Daryl had surveyed the people, and you weren't there. He cursed himself for not noticing and immediately his eyes locked onto the chaos of Terminus.

Daryl immediately started back to the compound, only stopped as Rick's hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"You can't go back there." Rick spoke, though he seemed conflicted over that fact. It wasn't safe. That much was obvious.

"Like hell I ain't. That's a damn kid!" Daryl snapped back, shrugging Rick's hand off his shoulder and looking back to the burning city, the walls down, walkers invading the cannibal compound.

burnt, rotten walkers lurked around every corner, the city was caving, people were fleeing, shooting, walkers were feasting, it was terrifying. Especially for a kid. But you had seen it all before.

your footsteps were drowned out by the rushing sound of flames and you were shrouded by the thick smog as you navigated the crumbling streets of Terminus. You would get out. You had to.