You're a kid. That was your first mistake. in the apocalypse, you were but a liability or anchor to most.

a couple weeks after the outbreak, you were with your family, camped out in your aunt's hunting cabin in the woods, trying to lay low. you couldn't stay hidden for long.

your camp was overrun. Not by Walkers. worse. Men.

these marauders slaughtered your family and took you and your cousin.

you two were locked away for a long time. Undergoing horrors you'd never mentally visit again. you'd been trying to figure a way out for a while, but one day, your cousin didn't come back. You questioned harshly, to no avail. They'd killed her. They would kill you too.

you may have been dealt shitty cards, but they were still in your hands.

when one man entered to have his way, you impaled his temple with a splinter of wood you'd pried from the floor.

now armed, you escaped. You hadn't killed all of them, only the ones who saw you escaping.

you stumbled through the bush, needing to put as much distance as possible before the others noticed the bodies.

a sharp pain clamped around your ankle and you tumbled to the forest floor. you looked down and saw the bear trap that dug into your flesh. With trembling hands you reached down and yanked out the metal teeth, stained with your crimson blood.

blood spilled from the wound but you had nothing, so you carried on.

rifle strap on your shoulder, knife in hand, you limped through the forest. To a road.

you left the treeline, leaving a red trail in your wake as you stumbled across the cracked pavement.

the sound of a gun loading drew your gaze up. your eyes landed on a fairly large group of people. Men, women, children alike. All with weapons pointed at you.

as their eyes registered you were injured and only a kid, some eased their grips, but one with a crossbow held strong. You could see the hint of concern and uncertainty in his eyes.

"How'd ya get that wound?" Daryl spoke, eyes narrowed slightly. Rick eyed you carefully as his companion questioned you.