"Um, hello," I raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. What was this man doing in our house? And how was my dad okay with just letting him in?

"My name's Rick, and I've been talking to you're dad here for a while, I think that, if you cooperate, we could allow you to come stay with us," the man told me, his face blank. I couldn't read him, he was expressionless. My dad on the other hand, had a wide smile across his face; he was obviously eager about this offer.

"Us, we," I questioned, "I only see you."

"Well, there's others outside, just in case you decide to pull something, he said tilting his head, hes elbows on his knees. Has he been watching us

"How'd you know we were staying here," I asked copying him and resting my elbows on my knees.

"We've seen you a couple of times on the road when we've been scavenging, figured we'd at least give you a better chance of surviving," he told me.

"Why, I asked, what if we're dangerous," I asked him, keeping my posture. My dad shot me a look that basically said "shut up before you ruin this for us."

"Well I'm trusting you not to do anything stupid then," he replied.

"That's not a very smart choice nowadays," I said bluntly. He stayed silent for a second and I started to realize my dad might've been right. I sort of let my mouth overload myself sometimes.

"Well, sometimes we have to make the wrong choices to learn," he said finally.

"Where are you all staying at?" I asked him raising up.

"There's a prison, just a few miles down the road from here, there's a fence, two actually," he said looking at my father, then me, "but I have some questions for you."

"And what would those be," my dad butts in.

"How many walkers have you killed," he asks me.

"As many as I've needed to, but I tend to avoid them."

"You," he questions my dad.

"The same as her," he responds.

"How about people, how many have you killed," he questions us again.

"None," I lie. My dad looks at me like I'm stupid. Rick then turns and looks at him and his expression fades quickly.

"None," my dad answers before Rick can ask him.

"Why," he questions us both.

"Because they're still humans, they're just living in a screwed up world, so they are gonna do screwed up things," I answer for us both. My dad nods, agreeing with me.

"Okay," Rick starts off, "you guys can come with us, but do not pull anything," he says handing my dad a gun, his gun. Did he take it from him? He could've killed us at any moment. My dad grabbed the bag of food and water and other essentials, while I grabbed the few weapons that were in the back room, and that was all we had. I walked out the door first to see and older guy with a scruffy beard and shaggy hair, and an Asian man. They each had a gun in their hands.

"Daryl, help them would ya," Rick said. The guy with the shaggy hair grunted in response, grabbing the bag from my dad's hands, and tossing it into the back of their old pickup. I set the guns and the bow gently in the back, and hopped in as Rick started the engine. My dad slowly hopped in after me. I heard the truck door shut and we started to pull out of the old dirt driveway. None of the guys seemed friendly, and I was worried. What if it's not what they said? They could be taking us somewhere to kill us. But wouldn't they have already done that if they really wanted to? I was stressed again. Too many questions and thoughts. But there was one thought that bothered me most: This was it, the place I had known as home was gone, again.