I'm leaning against a wall. In front of me lies a cosy looking living room, with a big couch and a few armchairs. An empty Slurpee cup sits on the coffee table, near a stack of coasters and some magazines. Pictures of a little girl with fuzzy brown hair are everywhere.

A woman stands in front of me. Wavy, smooth brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and pale, clean skin. Light freckles dot her nose, and she has her arms crossed across her chest, her face looking sad, like something weighs heavily on her heart. Her arms and legs are slim, and she stands with an air of confidence.

I don't recognize her. The strange woman in front of me gets a confused look on her face as I think this. I raise my arm, and so does she. I step back, shocked for a split second.

It's me. Me, before the apocalypse happened. I look away, and the mirror-like image in front of me shatters.

I also know that I'm in my house. My childhood home back in Saskatoon, to be exact. It looks the same, like a cabin, the way my mom liked it.

My dad sits in one of the armchairs, watching the tv. He looks the same as when I last saw him. Thinning black hair, large glasses, and a large belly that wasn't there when I was younger. He's wearing a striped blue shirt and beige pants with a large belt. He sips a drink, probably coffee, from a mug, and every once in a while, he flinches or makes a groaning sound when his hockey team fails to score a goal.

My heart aches when I see him like this; human, alive, happy, and proud of his genius, veterinarian daughter.

"Hope dear. Can you come help me set the table?" a sweet voice calls.

"Coming mom," I say, walking into the old kitchen.

My mom wears a purple t-shirt and jeans underneath her yellow checkered apron. Her long brown hair is curly, like mine, and she smiles when she sees me, causing her dark brown eyes to twinkle and creases to appear near her eyes.

"Put the meatloaf on the hot pad," she says, handing me a pair of oven mitts.

I put them on, opening the oven. The blast of heat hits me, and I reach in, grabbing the pot and pulling it out. I close the oven with my foot, turning it off before heading to the dining room. I place the pan down, and my mom heads to the living room, shutting off the tv and ushering my dad into the dining room. Steaming pots of corn and mashed potatoes sit near a china gravy boat, waiting to be eaten.

I haven't seen a meal like this in a long time.

We bow our heads, and my dad says a quick prayer.

"Dear God, thank you for blessing us with this food. I want to thank you for our amazing daughter, and that she is doing so well in her studies. God bless this house, bless this family. Amen." We all mumble an amen and start eating.

As we finish up, I stand up, pushing my chair in. My fingers grip the back of the chair, turning my knuckles white.

"I have to tell you something," I say.

My parents watch me. My dad raises an eyebrow, and my mom keeps a pleasant smile on her face.

"I know that you guys love me, and are very proud of how far I've come in my studies." I take a deep breath, and I prepare myself. "I...I've decided...to...move. To Atlanta."

My dad's eyes widen, and my mom's smile leaves her face.

"I've always wanted to visit Georgia, so I'm going to move there until I have enough money to go to Los Angeles...Hollywood, you know? And...become an actress."

My dad stands up, his face red. "Wh-wha-what?! No! Where did this come from?" he demands.

"It's always been my dream. Georgia, then Hollywood. I want to follow it."

"Your mother and I have poured our hearts and souls into your education! Are you really just going to throw that away?" he yells, and I close my eyes. "This has to be a joke!"

"It's not. I'm really leaving. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? SORRY?! Sorry isn't going to make you a vet!" my dad screeches. My mom stays seated, watching quietly, her face sad.

"Dad...I-"

"No. Don't give me any more bullshit." He grimaces. "If you do this, you can stop calling yourself my daughter."

I cringe, feeling like I've been slapped in the face. "Daddy...please. It's not that bad..."

"NOT THAT BAD?! This is all I've wanted from you my whole life!" He shoves his chair over, and it clatters to the floor. "Why don't you stay here? Get a husband! Give us grandchildren!"

For a split second, I smile lightly. What would my parents think of Daryl if they were with me now? Dad would flip.

"That's not what I've planned. I've already done the paperwork long before this, almost five years. I'm an American and Canadian citizen now. I can work, live, it's all done."

"You've been planning this since you left for college?!" My dad bangs his fist on the table, rattling the dishes. "Why didn't you tell us this?!"

"I wanted to put this-" I gesture to him with both hands. "-off for as long as possible. I'm sorry."

"Stop. Get out of my house." My dad storms away, and I stare after him, tears brimming.

That was the last time I saw him, I realize. I never saw him again after that. He died with his last words to me angry.

My mom stands up, and I look at her. She smiles weakly, her eyes pained.

"Mom...I..."

"I know." She sighs, wiping her hands on her apron. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, but...you'll always be my daughter."

She turns, walking into the kitchen. She comes back with an envelope, and hands it to me. My hand trembles as I hold the small package.

"That is some of the savings we've kept, and I'm giving it to you. Buy a plane ticket, go."

I hug her, and she hugs back. I grab my suitcase, walking out the door. My mom stands on the front steps, and I turn to her one last time.

"Can I call or write?" I ask.

"You can, but don't count on a reply."

"You hate me now...don't you?"

My mom sighs. "I could never hate you, but I don't approve of your decision." She touches my arm gently. "You can change your mind still. Your father will forgive you. He only wants the best for you."

"No, mom. I've made my choice." I bite my lip. "I love you."

"I love you too sweetie."

I turn away. As I walk down the driveway towards my car, I hear the door click shut. I look at the envelope, and I clutch it close to me.

Daryl's POV

I'm jolted from sleep, and I rub my eyes. Hope sits bolt upright, her eyes wide and her chest heaving.

Everyone sleeps soundly, save for Rick, who sits a little ways away on watch. She trembles, tears coming to her eyes.

"Hope? You ok?" I whisper to her, my hand reaching up to touch her arm.

She lies back down, resting her head on my chest. I place my hand on her head, running it along her hair and down her back.

"You wanna talk about it?" I ask.

"My parents. It was the last time I saw them." Her voice shakes. "When my dad told me I wasn't his daughter anymore."

I take a deep breath. My fingers brush her cheeks as I look into her pain filled eyes.

What I wouldn't do to make that pain go away.

"He's stupid. Any parent who would give up someone like you is," I say softly.

She pulls herself close to me, pressing her eyes shut, and I wrap my arms around her. She lets out a tiny sigh, and I kiss her forehead. I know that she never feels safer than when she knows that I'm nearby. She knows I'd never let anyone or anything harm her.

"You and I...we've both got daddy issues," I whisper.

"Not anymore..."

"Just sleep angel. I'll be here all night."

Slowly, she drifts off again, and I glance over at Rick as her breaths even out.

"You're a good husband Daryl. Better than I ever was," he says.

"Ya think so?"

"I know so."

We give each other small smiles, and I tuck Hope's head under my chin as I doze off.