𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | TWD [Book 1]

XIX. The Pages of Lost Innocence

In a world where deceit can be a weapon and honesty a shield, the survivors navigate the blurred lines between lies and truth.

For those molded by deceitful pasts, the weight of falsehoods echoes through their present, leaving them to grapple with the repercussions of a lifetime of untruths. Meanwhile, others acknowledge the potency of baring uncomfortable truths, understanding that in this harsh reality, honesty can serve as both a sword and a shield.

As alliances form and fractures deepen, the survivors confront the complexities of navigating a new existence where the distinction between lies and truth becomes increasingly elusive. The survivors must navigate this intricate dance, where the choices they make and the words they speak may determine not only their fates but also the fragile fabric of trust holding their world together.

Rick and Madeleine stand together on the bridge of the prison, overlooking the desolate landscape teeming with walkers.

With a sigh, Madeleine places a hand on the cold metal fence of the bridge, the chill of the metal contrasting with the warmth of her touch. Her father watches her, the lines of worry etched on his face, evidence of the burdens they both carry.

Breaking the silence, Madeleine voices what needed to be said, her words cutting through the stillness like a knife. "Feels like we're living in a nightmare, doesn't it?" she states, her eyes fixed on the relentless sea of undead below.

Rick observes his daughter, the lines of exhaustion etched on her face. He nods in understanding, sharing the heavy burden of their reality. "We're doing what we need to survive," he replies, his voice carrying a mix of reassurance and resignation.

Madeleine's gaze remains fixed on the walkers. "Surviving... sometimes it feels like that's all we're doing. But for how long will they last?" Her question lingers in the air, a testament to the uncertainty that surrounded their existence.

Rick shifts his gaze downward, diverting the conversation from the weighty contemplation of their surroundings. "You were right," he admits, the admission carrying the weight of acknowledgment. "Only two are left now. The leader tried to get me, so I killed him, and his friend got taken by a walker. They're going to stay far from here."

His words linger in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh decisions that define their new reality. Madeleine, though familiar with the brutality of their world, listens without flinching.

"We'll start cleaning tomorrow," he declares, steering the conversation toward practical matters. The mention of cleaning, while seemingly mundane, carries the unspoken acknowledgment that their sanctuary needs maintenance. It's a small step toward normalcy in a world that has long abandoned such concepts.

The bridge, with its view of the prison and the sprawling herd of walkers, becomes a witness to these conversations — conversations about survival, change, and the relentless pursuit of something more than mere existence.