S I X

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CHAPTER SIX
THE WAY IT WAS

CHAPTER SIXTHE WAY IT WAS

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I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I don't belong here, I think inside the comfort of my head. I belong out there.

I gather my hair into a low ponytail, an attempt to make myself presentable, but I still look like I was out there. The scars, little and big, decorating my skin will always make it own that I was out there. I can't escape that part of me.

I sigh at my reflection and will myself to turn away from it. I walk to the doors, cautious of how loud my feet hit the floorboards. Once I get to the destination, I don't let myself freeze. I grab the handle and open the door before my mind has shit to say about it.

It's new room, same story. It's a nice office of some sort. Two couches facing each other, bookshelves, even a TV mounted over a fireplace. Like the rest of the home, it's spotless. I'm so shocked by how nice it all is that I almost miss the woman sitting on the couch. She hasn't seen me yet.

"Uh, hi." I speak up guardedly.

The woman looks over her shoulder, smiling in surprise. "I didn't even hear you come in. Why don't you come take a seat?"

I want to reply, but no words come out. I keep quiet as I walk around her couch, eyeing the camera set up behind it, and rigidly sit down on the armchair across from her. I avoid looking directly at the camera and it's blinking light.

"Do you mind if I film this?" The woman asks me, and I merely shrug. I do mind, but I keep that piece of information to myself.

I shift uncomfortably in the chair. Deanna watches me with a faint smile, sitting all poised with her legs crossed. I don't know if I should mimic her or not.

"My name is Deanna Monroe. You?" She attempts to break the ice gently. It's a hard thing to do, but she isn't bad at it.

"Frances Dixon." I reply, even thought giving her my full name fills me with wariness. I'm not sure why, it's not like she can look me up online or anything.

"How long have you been with the group?" Deanna inquires, keeping it light.

"Since the beginning." I answer. "The group was smaller back then. Only a few of them are still here."

My head goes down the rabbit hole. My conversation with Glenn last night runs through my mind, as well as the names I should remember. I barely pull myself out of it by the time Deanna speaks up again.

WHEN THEY COME, glenn rhee² Where stories live. Discover now