The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

eightythree

I proceed to watch my father curiously; still bewildered by his reaction. He continues to refuse to lunge at me, instead he's growling and peering around. I chew on my lip as I stand carefully. I limp over to him slowly. He doesn't budge even though I'm standing within inches of him, just sniffing the air around us; he seems to be blind to the fact that a meal is right in front of him. For all intents and purposes, I'm invisible.

"I'm sorry, daddy," I whisper, still keeping a moderately safe distance. My heart bursts with pain at sight of my father beginning to rot. "I should've looked for you instead of staying in Atlanta." But I wouldn't have my babies, I remind myself. I wouldn't have met Daryl. However, I'm unsure how to feel latter, given the current state of the things, and how we left things in what feels like a lifetime ago.

Startled, I jump back from my father when the ground begins to shake. I crane my neck, glancing up towards the ceiling as shouts and the sound of gun fire fill the air. "The fuck?" Maybe Arat wasn't full of shit after all. My father snarls at the sound of the plate flying across the room, though, it's almost silent, lost in the chaos. I peer down, spotting a key. "What the hell?" I get on my hands and knees, key tight within my grasp, crawling towards the door. I feel my luck changing when I'm able to turn the handle to the door. Owen hasn't discovered that Arat kept it unlocked from hours ago. Mistakes eventually happen, even in the best laid out ideas. I crack open the door, continuing to crawl slowly and carefully until I feel as if I'm in the clear. My dislocated shoulder screaming during every inch I move.

I straighten up to my full height, glancing around, quickly assessing the current mission at hand, letting out a stream of curses as I spot James' wife chained close to her husband, snarling. She died at Owen's hands. Another casualty of my nightmare. I peer around, locating a pipe. I wrap my fingers around it, approaching her. I thrust it inside her skull, cutting off her moans. Sorry, Kelsey. I frown at the body crumpled at my feet.

I turn my attention to James, realizing he's chained to a pipe anchored along the wall. His green eyes widen at my appearance. I rush over, kicking the pipe over and over until it bends under my strength. I collapse on the ground, panting. Everything over the last five months finally hitting me at once. The key falls out my grasp, landing on the ground with a small ting, barely audible over the sounds of the fighting and scuffle coming from above us.

"Hey runt, ya are gonna be okay! We gotta get out of here." He crouches in front of me, eyes finding the key. As I pant through pained breaths, I watch as he takes the key. I observe as a smile breaks out along his tired face. "Always gotta do things the hard way, huh? That was for the cuffs."

"Apparently." Sighing, "I can't," I shake my head, amusement dancing with exhaustion surfacing on my face, "I'm tired."

He chews his lip, peering up at the ceiling. "If that's the rescue team, they should be headed down here. I'll be right back." Did Arat tell him, too? He seems unsurprised by the chaos that's ensuing above our heads.

"James! Please!" I plead. "What if it's not safe?"

"If I don't come back in ten minutes, ya gotta find your strength and fight to get out, okay?" I nod, his southern drawl thick in his request, he presses a kiss to my forehead, "I love ya, baby sister. I'm sorry about your father." My lip trembles at the thought, watching him take the stairs two at a time. Come back, James, please.

I limp over to a corner close to the staircase, staying out of sight, gripping the pipe I used to take down James' wife, ticking off the seconds in my head. I peek around as the sounds of steps hurdling in my direction fill the air. I swallow the bile raising as Owens image haunts my mind. I take a deep breath, rounding the corner, swinging at the closest person, adrenaline pumping fire into my soul. I spin on my heels hitting the second person. I don't hesitate. I swing over and over, pleading with my body to stay upright. I gotta get out of here. It's now or never.