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M E G A N

Although finally getting to take a nap on top of a real mattress, I still somehow wake up disturbed and ungrateful.

It's hard to fathom that I'm finally out of that storage room. And my first thought upon waking up is that it's even harder to imagine that I'll probably live the rest of my short life entrapped in this facility used by outsiders to create a safe haven.

I sit up from my much needed rest and notice the daylight still pouring in from outside. Quietly, I make my way out of the wide double doors and exit the corridor.

The field—still scattered with the bodies of the dead—disturbs me, even though the people around me seem to have grown accustomed to it.

I see a woman, one that was in the man's cell earlier and the Asian man, who was also a witness to the scene Carl caused, at the cell. The only two people who've managed to not intimidate or threaten me.

I walk towards them from across the field, all the way to their position against the fence. Hesitantly, I make my way in between the two fences and walk up to them.

The gravel crunching underneath my feet instills a guilty feeling inside me, considering I'd never been allowed to roam beyond the first fence.

"This is completely sane." I hear the Asian man speak to the woman, while looking at a walker through the fence.

"I need the practice." The woman says, not noticing me walking up behind her.

The man, however, sees me and switches his gaze from the woman, to me.

"What's it like?"

"Usually I like to know peoples' names before we trek to survive together." The man says, smiling at me awkwardly but also squinting from the sun.

He goes to extend a bloody hand out towards me, but—upon my hesitance—realizes why I don't shake it. "I'm Glenn, and this is Carol." He says, motioning to the lady.

I shift my weight from one leg to the other. "Megan."

I look around, noticing some of the the walkers' futile attempts to try and get to us through the fence.

"Well, Megan," Glenn starts. "Carol and I are clearing the fences." He says looking to Carol.

"You could join us if you'd like," She says, looking at the walkers. "Killing them through the fence could be a good way to warm up to it." She says.

I look around at the bodies of the dead that they've already put down.

"I can't imagine how you must feel." Glenn says. "Being locked up in prison and then having to stay inside to keep the end of the world on the outside." He takes his metal rod that he's holding and sticks one end in the gravel.

"It's weird, I guess." I said, making direct eye contact with a female walker that's growling at me through the fence. She'd be pretty if not already dead. "But I get it. You guys are used to it." I say, walking up to the walker and getting a closer look at her.

"You seem much more used to the idea than your friends are." Carol speaks up. I guess it's kind of an 'elephant in the room' situation for these people to live with prisoners.

"They're not my friends." I mutter, barely recognizing the world around me. "The world did end. The other girls held out some naive hope. I didn't." I say, looking to the ground, finalizing the concept.

Glenn and Carol nod to each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Me being on the outside of their thought process.

"Well," Glenn says. He hands over the metal rod. "Don't tell anyone about this."

After the offense that the man unknowingly caused me, I decide take it from him.

His words only solidify my every suspicion about the group that roams around my cell block. The boundaries they keep between us are now proven real.

I hesitantly ready the rod, poking it between the links in the fence, lining it with the milky, reanimated eye.

☆

A few hours ago—after agreeing to keep our little rendezvous a secret—Glenn and Carol snuck me back inside the cell block, where I was once again greeted with more unpleasant words.

Gianna, Rosa and I were to remove the dead bodies of people we knew, and burn them. All so we could migrate to cell block A, and keep our distance from the others.

"We had an agreement." Rick says, coming face to face with a distraught Gianna.

I stand back, watching the conversation happen, not wanting to ruffle the other group's feathers. Pissing them off is the difference between life and death nowadays.

Rosa and Gianna remain too disturbed after only a few hours in our own cell block. I can't say that I blame them.

"Please mister, we know that." She started. "We made a deal, but you have to understand." She points back to our cell block.

"We can't live in that place another minute. You follow me?" She begs. "All the bodies—people we knew. Their blood and brains—everywhere."

Through her words, the scowl on Rick's face keeps its place.

"Please don't make us stay in there." Rosa adds, breaking her snarky facade to show the desperation that we all feel to leave the place.

The man says nothing, but offers a slight grimace of a reaction.

"I told you guys this was a waste of time." I speak up. Before coming out here, I'd warned the girls that the others think we were dangerous and want nothing to do with us. And once again, I'm proven right.

"You either stay in your cell block, or you can hit the road." Rick states, leaving Gianna and Rosa a frantically scared mess.

"Come on, Rick." The black man states.

"Are you serious? You want these people living in the room next to you?" Rick asks the man in a matter-of-fact tone. "They'll just be waiting for a chance to grab our weapons."

"Bring them into the fold." The black man talks back. He then turns to the woman—the thin one with the green eyes and short, brown hair. "You brought us in."

"Y'all turned up with a shot boy in your arms." She retorts. "You didn't really leave us a choice."

"They can't even defend themselves against the walkers." Glenn states, furrowing his eyebrows at the two others. He looks over at me, offering me a loose smile.

I involuntarily return a simple one, under the relief that someone's actually vouching for me.

"Those three might have less blood on their hands than we do." The black man once again comes to our defense.

It's true. We've all done something to land ourselves in this detention center, but this group has clearly done worse to keep eachother alive out there. The one-legged man is a living, breathing example of it.

"I get people like this," Daryl starts. "Hell, I grew up with 'em. They're degenerates, yeah, but they ain't psychos." He says, talking about us like we aren't here. "I could've been in there with them as easy as I'm out here with you guys."

The main man, Rick, soaks in the different words of his people. He squints his tired, blue eyes in our direction, as his mind races to gather a solution.

☆

After Daryl, T-dog and Glenn came to our defense, and some heavy negotiating between groups, Rick and his people agreed to let us guard the perimeter as they went out for a run.

Gianna, Rosa and I walk the perimeter of the prison, behind two layers of fencing. All of the walkers that were once there, all lie limp on the ground just outside the fence.

Thanks to me. Well, thanks to Glenn and Carol.

The other girls wanted to spend their time inside the cell block, so I offered to walk the perimeter without them. Because—as long as I have a choice—there's no way I'm spending even more of my time inside of that dark, gloomy place.

"Hey!"

I spin my head around, yet see no one in sight. I scan the gravel path behind me, then the field, then the distant courtyard to the prison. No one.

"Up here!" I look up towards the prison once again and see nothing.

I turn around, tracing my eyes up the guard tower I'm standing next to. They land on the mischievous kid in the sheriff's hat who leans over the railing on his elbow, glaring down at me.

Although he is the one who purposefully caught my attention, his menacing look still troubles me. As if I was the one who'd disturbed his peace.

When we make eye contact, I pull my eyes away and stare down the entrance to the guard tower.

I'd never be allowed to enter through this door, if the world wasn't dying. Sucking in a quick breath, I quickly learn that I need to forget everything that I've been taught, and adjust to the way life is now.

My hand grips the handle to the door, and I hesitantly enter the tower.

When I open the latch in the cabin of the tower, I carefully pull myself inside.

I stand to my feet, only to be held at immediate gunpoint by the boy. I raise my hands up. "What the hell?"

He keeps a cold glare on me.

"What's your deal?" His voice as plain as any.

"What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Get that thing out of my face." I take one small step toward him.

He backs up a few steps and cocks it. "My mom was more mad at me for being alone with you than going into the tombs." He says matter-of-factly.

There it is. The reason the mischievous boy bothers with me. To further get at his reluctant parents, who haven't seen much of me—not that they even want to.

Carl bothers because his group would never allow it. His parents don't want him anywhere near me, which makes him that much more intrigued.

"Is that why you called me up here?" I growl at him. "Your people think my people are dangerous, I get it."

"Are you?" He says with no sort of emotion in his voice. "Doesn't seem like it."

"Then why is that thing still pointed at me?" I scoff.

He lowers his guns little, still having both of his hands around the grip.

"Like I asked, what's your deal?" He asks, nodding his head toward me. "Why don't you keep to your people? The other two seem to keep together."

"I don't know." I roll my eyes and fold my arms. "Being cooped up with them for that long makes me keep my distance. I guess I need a break from them."

"They're older than you," He nonchalantly states, looking around at the empty field of the prison. "But it seems like you're the one who tells them what to do."

"Yeah?"

"Why?" He narrows his glare at me.

"Gianna—she's a bit naive. And Rosa—she likes to act like she knows it all, but she doesn't know what's best for anyone." I scowl, thinking about how out of place I feel with them. "They know I have the most sense, they just won't admit it."

"How do you get your people to listen to you?" He shakes his head. "My mom would kill me if she knew I was in here with you."

"Was she really that mad about the infirmary thing?" I say, clearly striking a chord with him.

He rolls his eyes and turns around, sitting down and letting his feet dangle off the edge of the guard tower below the railing. I feel a slight breeze of relief when his gun is no longer pointed in my general direction.

"Everyone here treats me like a kid." He shakes his head and looks outward.

"I guess judgement in a world like this—it really—has no age." I admit to him. "You know just as much as anyone else." I mutter, retreating and opening the latch that leads down to the stairwell.

The boy turns his head around to me when he hears the latch open. I give him one last look before starting to climb back down the stairs.

"But not even that stops you from acting stupid."

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2067 words

A/N

chappy two xoxo

Their dynamic screams "I am a senseless preteen"

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