Vanessa Taylor, a sassy blue haired, tattooed cosmetologist with a mouth of a sailor was born and raised in Ohio. One summer while she was visiting her sick father, her connecting flight ends in the city getting shut down, leaving her stranded in th...
After I put a bullet in Sophia's head, I'm seeing red. I toss the gun back on the ground. I spin on my heels, approaching Shane in a rage, "Are you fucking proud of yourself? Like is this what you wanted to accomplish? "
He looks down at me, angry, "You stupid bitch..."
I laugh unafraid, I point my finger at him, "No, you listen. Look at Beth, her mother and stepbrother were in there! She watched as you signed their fucking death certificate. Yes, those ARE monsters, but everyone fucking grieves differently. Maybe they only needed time. Take a good look at Carol. Maggie. Hershel. Patricia. Sure, I put a bullet in that sweet girl's head, that is what I'm guilty of, but you were the one who did this. You might've signed our deaths, if our gracious host decides to toss us out on our asses for your own crazed stupidity." I got really close to him not caring who hears, letting the venom and hate drip from my words, "I dated a man like you. He put me in a god damned hospital for weeks; almost put me in a fucking coffin. Hopefully he died in that fucking prison I sent him to. Men like you don't fucking scare me." I snarl, "I know men like you. Your time is numbered. Choke on that, asshole." I shake my head, "Nah, you're not an asshole. That title is too good for you. No, you are the monster. By choice."
"You're a cunt." He seethes, not liking that someone is finally standing up to him. He raises his hand like he's going to hit me.
I laugh, again, spreading my arms, "hit me, coward. I. Fucking. Dare. You. Let everyone see the man you are." I really hope he hits me. I'm a small woman full of anger, I don't mind showing this low life who I truly am. Something in my eyes causes him to rethink and back off.
"Fuck you." I spit.
I turn, heading for my tent to grab my knife. I dump all the contents in my bags grabbing some other possible essentials, bringing an empty backpack. I then find the forgotten bags of guns to retrieve mine. I spot some extra bullets, snatching them up without thinking twice. I need to get off this land, to clear my head. Keys in hand, I stalk to my bike.
Before starting the engine, I notice Daryl searching for someone. Probably Carol. I quickly realize how wrong I am when start the bike, pulling out; he starts shouting my name, not the nickname he so lovingly gave me, and running in my direction. Sorry, I'll be back in a few hours. Maybe. I peel out as fast as I can, heading down with road without a destination.
Not long after, I happen upon the housing development I remember hearing some of the group talking about. Being invisible when I want has its advantages. I circle the dead on my motorcycle, shooting down them down, hoping I won't attract a whole herd of them. For now, luck seems to be on my side.
I approach the nearest house, which seems to be empty of any kind of life. I walk from room to room, looking for anything useful. I move to the bathroom, looking in the mirror, so I could French braid my hair down the back. For the first time in months, I allow myself to really look at myself. My blue eyes tired and sad, the freckled skin around them and my cheekbones had sunken in. I was never a bigger girl, but it was clear I was losing weight. After looking around the bathroom further I find enough bobby pins to be pin my braid into a bun that now sits on the back of my head. I put the remaining ponytail holders on my wrist out of habit. In the kitchen, I come across some canned beans and SpaghettiOs. I chose the latter
Hours later, I decide to stay there for the night. Yawning, I lock the doors and windows, and closing the blinds. I make my way to the master bedroom to sleep.
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