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010: ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ

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The week had been a nightmare.

Sami killed two people. For the first time, but couldn't tell anyone how he felt about it. He often forgot how alone he felt in the group. How he existed to protect people, yet had no one to turn to. Glenn was the closest thing he had, but he was going through stuff with Maggie and Sami didn't want to bother him. He felt awfully lonely.

Hershel had wanted to save the sniper, Randall who was on the roof, and had managed to, and Rick and Shane went to bring him out and ditch him, but it didn't work - they came back with him. So, he was now locked in the shed, and they had no idea what to do with him.

Tensions in the group were bad. Sami kept to himself, but Shane obviously had a problem with him, glaring across the camo at him, trying to out-do him at things, when Sami didn't even notice he was there. It was a bit ridiculous.

Sami was sick of all the arguing. The only person who told things straight up to him was Daryl, even if he didn't understand him all the time. He'd been studying his book like crazy, and talking as much as he could. Lori was telling him anything and everything - both because he asked, and because she needed to tell someone. It helped him learn.

They spoke about Shane, how he killed Otis. She admitted she was a little scared of him. Not for herself, but everyone else. He loved her, and thought they should be together no matter what. She said she felt she could tell Sami she was scared without him thinking she was weak. He told her he didn't think fear was weakness.

Taylor, who was looking for Daryl, made her way down to the shed, pulling the door open to see Daryl standing over Randall, who was beaten and bloody.

"Oh, miss, please-" He started begging.

"She hates everyone, she ain't gonna help." Daryl said. "Keep goin'. What your group do?"

"We . . . we go out." He was saying. "We scavenge . . . just the men. One night, we . . . we found this campsite. A man, and his two daughters. Teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute."

Daryl had been pacing but stopped, now.

"Their Daddy had to watch while these guys they . . . and they didn't even kill 'em afterwards. They just . . . they just made him watch. His daughters . . . they just -just left them there. But I- I didn't touch those girls. I swear-"

Daryl was about to scream at Taylor for not letting him kick the kid, as she had gotten in front of him, but then realized she was grabbing the knife from his leg, and turned, stabbing it through Randall's knee, making him scream.

"Please." He panted, laying on the ground. "Please, you have to believe me. I'm not like that."

"Let's say I do." She crouched in front of him, hands on her knees. "And you did nothing."

"I did nothin', I swear!"

"Exactly." 

She twisted the knife in his knee, making him scream.

The group were all watching them as they left the shed ten minutes later, curious looks on their faces.

"What you down here for, anyway?" Daryl asked, as he threw his crossbow over his shoulder, walking towards camp.

"Wanted to form my own opinion."

"Have ya?"

"Obviously."

They reached the others, Daryl speaking.

"That boy's from a group of above thirty men. They got heavy artillery and ain't looking to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna wish they were."