Babygirl.

Death, that's what you are.

We've been at the Sanctuary for an hour now, talk to every person that turns up, coming through the back way. Asking them if they have seen my son or Greta but so far nothing.

Dwight had to leave to help clean out the dead, I was going to help but I need to be here for when Axl arrives. The look of cold rage sitting on Negans' face as Dwight kissed me before he left, it was almost enough to scare me. But with everything lately not much scares me, my worst fear has already come to life.

Not knowing where Axl is, is the worst kind of torture and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. My desert eagle sits in my hip holster, my ACR across my back and the gun the King gave me across my chest. I was ready for anything, ready for another attack, the dead or even Negan.

I sigh heavily feeling completely useless as I stand waiting for any sign of Greta and Axl. I decide I can't stand around anymore, I head out the gate, wanting to search the nearest buildings for them.

I greet Saviors and other members of the Sanctuary as I walk, asking them too if they had seen my son. None of them had seen anything.

After awhile the sound of my boots hitting the pavement was the only sounds around. I went into building after building, calling out hoping they would hear me, but the only response I got was the dead. I walk passed an old playschool and stop short, when something catches my eye.

I rush over picking it up with shaking hands, the sound of my heart beating almost deafening me. Axls' little animal backpack, I open it finding his toys and some snacks.

"GRETA?! AXL?! CAN YOU HEAR ME, GIVE ME ANY SIGN IF YOU HEAR ME?!" I scream at the top of my lungs looking everywhere around me. I look back down at the bag and it's then I notice on the strap, a bloodied hand print.

I drop to my knees, my joints barking in pain, I drag in deep breathes trying to control myself. I study the ground where I picked up the bag. A blood trail, leading into the playschool.

I stand on shaky legs and walk towards the school, I put on the backpack, not caring how tight it is on me. I pull my ACR into my hands ready for an attack. I push the door open as quietly as it will let me. An eerie feeling drapes around me, seeing all the old children's art works still barely hanging on the wall.

"Greta? Axl, Baby?" The voice I hear barely sounds like mine after all the shouting I've been doing.

"It's Mummy Baby. Are you okay?" Still no answer, I prepare myself for the worst and tighten my grip on my gun.

One deep calming breath at a time. One more step forward. One more silent prayer to a god that does not exist. Amround the corner, getting past all the little classrooms and play areas. Heading into the back of the playschool, where the staff would only go.

I push the ajar door open, trying hard to ignore the dark bloody hand prints and scrapes all over the door. I enter the corridor and immediately shoot one of the dead that's lingering in front me. More come out drawn by the sound and the prospect of a fresh meal.

Once they are all dead and there's no noise or movement for a minute do I step around the bodies. I turn right to go down another hallway, but stop dead in my tracks.

Have you ever hoped for something to not be true, that you would do absolutely anything for it not to be true. But then you get that feeling, that something bad has happened, something that can't ever be taken back. It's the type of thing where it changes everything, it changes life as you know it to be. That is this moment for me.

I stumble against the wall, my screams barely registering in my mind. I crumble towards the ground, forcing myself to crawl forward, to get closer, to prove that it's real and not just a trick.

I struggle to breathe as the corpse sitting against the wall looms ahead of me, the once sweet innocent face stained with blood, gashes marring the surface. Eyes that once brightened the darkest of days, now lifeless and staring vacantly out at nothing.

My eyes drop to the torso, completely torn to shreds and emptied out, a gaping hole into the body. I reach out and wrap my arms around the shoulders, pulling the body into my arms. My cries are relentless as I force myself to close the once beautiful, shiny hazel eyes, eyes so familiar.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. You didn't deserve this Greta. You didn't deserve this." I hold her cold body to me for a little while longer, as I look around again Axl is no where to be seen just as I had checked the first time I entered this hallway.

I get up and search the other rooms, my hands and cloth sticky with Greta's blood. All the rooms are empty and I stand in the last one, almost ready to just give up. To pull the gun the King gave me and end it all.

I don't though just staring at the cupboards in front my me, bloody hand prints on them. I walk over slowly and crouch down, I prepare myself for the worst as I open the doors.

There lays my son pale and cold, covered in blood, a massive gash across his forehead, the bone exposed. As if he was dropped or thrown by Greta as she was torn into and told him to run and hide. His chest rising and falls softly, he's alive, barely but alive, a chance.

I pick him up out of the cupboard laying him on the old table. I rip the bottom of my shirt off, wrapping it around his head to stop anymore blood or infection.

I take my jacket off and put it on him, zipping it up and covering the hood over his head. I pull out my desert eagle in case I need it and scoop him up. I walk out the room, past Greta's remains, past the dead I killed, past the door, past the children's drawings and I leave. I sprint down the street I came from, clutching Axl close to my chest.

I don't dare stop, as the sun is starting to set and time runs out for my boy. The Sanctuary appears ahead and I almost want to weep again, but now is not the time, now is the time to save my boys life, to get him help. I charge through the back door, the men on guard protest as I run past.

I enter the main hall, where everyone is gathered, sheltering together, instead of alone. People immediately shift out of my way, making a path for me to get through. To where Negan and Dwight and Simon all stand around a map discussing things.

Negan looks up, his eyes showing how exhausted he is, but when they settle on me it all disappears. The hood falls from Axls' little head showing Negan what I carry.

"Fucking hell." He says rushing over, causing Simon and Dwight to look over.

"He needs help, we need to help him, my baby, my poor baby." Negan takes Axl from my hands and rushes him to the med bay area that seems to be set up here temporarily. The whole room is silent as I follow after him, Dwight joins me by my side. He takes my hand and I squeeze it tight.

"Do you know what happened?" Asked the man trying to help Axl, they all turn to me for details.

"I think he was dropped or thrown, so he could escape." I force myself to say, imagines of Greta's body flashing in my head.

"Was he by himself?" Negan asks me now as they get to work helping Axl. I nod my head, my body violently shaking, I barely have the strength to stand.

"Greta. She. She. She saved him. Got her instead of him." I sway on my feet, emotionally and physically exhausted. Dwight pulls me against him, letting me lean into him for support.

"Death, that's want you are. The lights in this world are going out, you are reason for that. That war has begun, you have doomed us all." I ramble out to Negan as he tries to help with our son. He looks over at me for a moment, not daring to show emotion and I just want to slap him. To make him feel pain for once, I step forward to do it, out of Dwight's grasp.

I stop though as my vision starts getting spotty, then the blackness creeps in, but not just in my eyes but my mind. Distant shouts echo around in my head, the sensation of falling making me feel sick. As strong arms catch me and lift me up bridal style, does my brain finally give out to nothingness.