I AM wilting with each passing moment. Each petal pales, fades, desaturates. The stem grows limp; weak and suddenly bent over. If each flower I've become is dying, than every seed I've planted is rotten.

You are just as venomous as me, my offspring continues the swarm of death.
My pollen pollutes, My scent ensnares.
inseminate the illness.

"HERE hun." Lori called over, handing Irene one of her few shirts. Even freshly washed, It was stained with dirt and grass—making the meekly shirt look more raggedy than it already was. She took the garment and gave her a soft nod, running her hand over the fabric.

Balling the shirt up in her hands, Irene couldn't recall if this was one of the shirts she wore when the outbreak hit in Georgia. She struggled to decipher which blood stains were from which days. That's disgusting, Irene. She thought—Catching herself in morbid curiosity, she had been doing that often lately.

Her memory of the last fifty or so days has been fuzzy to say the least. She didn't know if it had been more or less than that. Irene knew her brain was already blocking stuff out, memories of what she's seen... starting to go black.

The horror of watching someone she knew for years reanimate with an unnatural starvation... it plagued her dreams, her blinks, each time her eyelids dared to meet her irises.

To her, it had felt as though it was lifetimes ago when she had shirts without blood stains.

Irene slouched, her grip on her shirt loosened. She noticed that people started to huddle around the radio. She whipped the shirt over her shoulder, walking close behind the group. Mickey moved to the right, making room for her. She couldn't make sense of what the static was supposed to be. Her own breathing seeming to confuse the sound more. Few words made it past the fuzz, eventually a man's voice pierced through enough to decipher a few words.

"Can anybody hear my voice?"
"Hello, hello?"
"Approaching Atlanta on highway 85. If anybody reads, please respond."

Mickey looked over at Irene.
The city was overrun, filled to the brim with corpses. His face displayed a look of sorrow for the unlucky man who was blindly entering the graveyard Atlanta had become.

Amy had run over to the radio as soon as it started to make noise. Her fingers slid around on the buttons, eager and nervous to get an answer to the unknown man.
"We're just outside the city." She hurriedly spit out—looking down at the radio. The steady static from moments prior returned.

"Damn it..." Amy pressed. "Hello?"
"Hello?" Nothing. "He couldn't hear me. I couldn't warn him." She panicked, turning to Dale.

"Try to raise him again." He added, his attention moving to Shane. "Come on, son, you know best how to work this thing."

Shane begrudgingly walked over, seemingly not interested in the call. "Hello, hello? Is the person who called still on the air?" He questioned, looking at Lori as she watched him shortly ask.
"This is officer Shane Walsh broadcasting to person unknown. Please respond." Once again, only static ensued.

"He's gone."

"There are others. It's not just us." Lori was right, everyone had their own speculations, but she was right. Other people were out there, surviving. The group wasn't as strong as it needed to be, more people could help that.

Irene had seen walkers rip people's limbs from their bodies. Both her and the victim simultaneously watching the muscles and tissue separate one by one. There wasn't enough of them, not even close. They'd already lost people on the way here, they couldn't afford another loss.

Diane was off trying to get supplies with the rest of the group. Both Reed and Mickey urged her not to go, Reed fearing for his Mother's safety. She wouldn't compromise. She needed to go.

Lori started to bring up her ignored idea for signs. this resulted in the two beginning to argue over what was "safe" and what wasn't. It wasn't a rare occurrence for them. They had a habit of getting under the other's skin. She walked off with Shane following.

"Oh hey." Irene stopped Carl from pursuing the pair. She figured it was best to let them cool off alone...

"you wanna show me that drawing you made me?" She asked, reminding him that earlier that day he had asked Irene if she wanted him to draw her something. The older girl had asked for a surprise—not knowing exactly what to say to the question.

"Uh yeah! Sure!" Carl chirped, quickly forgetting his desire to follow Shane and Lori. He didn't seem like the artsy type to Irene, seeing as she grew up with a brother who wouldn't put a pencil down. Nonetheless she accepted his offering gladly, It put a smile on her face. The gift reminding her of him.

—

After the outbreak stormed in, people turned into monsters. The worst and most deadly were the ones still breathing. The evil that had been inflicted upon the innocent by the "innocent."
Good people have become shallow husks of the righteousness they once possessed. Virtue has been thinned and veiled in most now. Irene was never religious, but she felt the need to be baptized.

She felt ashamed, dirty, constantly full of grime. Not just her tattered clothes, bruised legs, bleeding face, but her soul felt blemished. As if she was already infected with the virus and was slowly dying. Every piece of reality she clung to was faltering by the minute. Every minuscule moment of peace was coupled with hours of agony.

"Irene." The brunette's mind fog was broken by her boyfriend's voice. Her eyes met his, then peeked down to the plate in his hand.
She must've missed dinner again.

"I've been calling you." He walked in, quickly crouching due to his height. Irene sat up from her sleeping bag. She tried to sleep, knowing she wouldn't be able to tonight—but it was no use. She couldn't get her heart rate to slow.

"Sorry..."

"Are you hungry? Everyone is eating out by the fire if you'd like to join." Reed sighed, looking at her eye-bags. "I know Carl was asking where you were."

Irene breathed out a soft laugh, a small smile accompanying it. Carl had taken a liking to Irene and the Broods, but more so Irene. She'd help him with school and sometimes play hide and seek with him. Some of the other people in the camp were bothered by the questions he'd ask, but she never minded. Carl was sweet.

She handed the plate back to Reed. Leaning across towards him and gently placing a kiss on his cheek. "I'll be right there."
Reed just looked at her for a moment, his eyes flittering to different parts of her face.

"You okay?" He entreated, noticing her tiredness. His voice laced with concern; intertwined with a disquieted sigh.

"I'm tired is all. I haven't been sleeping well."

"That's all?" He inquired, pursuing her answer for missing details. A smile contorted its way on Irene's face, reaching for Reed's hand.

"That's all." He nodded, she could see he was feeling nervous. Reed sat up and exited the tent, awaiting Irene's company by the fire.

she walked over to where she could see Reed sitting with Carl and Mickey. Placing herself next to them as Reed handed her the plate from earlier.

While she wasn't hungry she knew she had to eat. She felt it would be disrespectful to those around who were alone, hungry, and dying. Starving in the cold, or bleeding out in the woods. Irene had the privilege of food, the privilege of life.
She was lucky..

—

That night she rested her head down on her sleeping bag with a full stomach—and a full mind. The blankness during the day seemed to wear off once nighttime came. The images and flashes of screams crashed down all at once.

Tonight had been particularly worse, she assumed it was Diane's absence from the tent. The longer she was gone the harder it was. The lack of another body next to her had created an unsettling void she wasn't expecting. Irene started to feel nausea overtake her body, her thoughts unable to stop the corruption. She just couldn't stop her own head.

She sat up, putting both arms out to ground herself. Her body jolted as she gagged. Irene quickly covered her mouth with her hand, using the other to hurriedly open her tent's zipper. Bolting out, she ran to the other side of her tent. Using her hands, gripping her knees as she bent over. Nothing came up as she started dry heaving. She became paranoid that others would hear, so she attempted to muffle her gags.

Once the pit in her stomach calmed enough, she found herself in front of boys' tent. Her hand reached for the zipper, then she'd pull it back. Reach... pull.
Reach... pull.
Reach... unzip. Reed and Mickey laid there, sound asleep. Irene felt guilt bellowing, knowing she was interrupting Reed's rest. This is selfish. She quickly started to regret opening the tent, knowing she should just get over it by herself. Irene decided to leave, she didn't want to bother anyone.

"Irene?" A hushed, groggy voice spoke. Irene's eyes moved from the tent's zipper to Reed, who had just sat up to face her.
"What's wrong?" He whispered, half asleep but visibly worried.

Shit. I should've stayed in my tent.

She remained silent for a moment, simply thinking of answering why she was there made the nausea worsen. Putting that aside, and trying to ignore the embarrassment that was about to follow, she looked back to him.

"Would you come lay with me in my tent?" She shakily asked, her eyes shooting back down to her fidgeting hands. Almost shameful in her tone.

Reed's face softened, his gaze narrowing on her labored breathing and trembling hands. He looked back, making sure Mickey was still asleep. Trying to exit the tent as silently as possible.

Once out of the tent and a few steps away, Reed stopped Irene—grabbing her arm. For a moment she just looked at him with confusion on her face.
"Come here." He gently embraced the shorter girl, her face becoming buried in his jacket. He knew she was crying, he could feel her shaking in his grip. Instead of saying anything, he just took her hand, walking back to her tent.

The two settled in, Irene's tears now becoming dry on Reed's jacket. She laid with her head on his chest, arms wrapped around his torso. His palm gingerly resting atop her head, the other on the small of her back.

Not another word was spoken, a simple silence bestowed the two. There wasn't any other solace like the company of someone who didn't need to feel your skin to warm it.

// C'S NOTES
FINALLY 💔💔 I've been trying to write for days and just couldn't, I literally forced myself to get this done. Not much in this chapter, season one is pretty slow. I haven't edited this really, so there are probably mistakes I'll fix within the next few days. Excuse my tired eyes plz.

Please don't be a silent reader, I seriously adore talking to anyone so leave something in the comments!! Thoughts, opinions, anything really!!! I'd love to chat<3 THANK YOU FOR READING!!!💗💗