If one more person negatively comments on this chapter about my reference to the Hunger Games, I will eat you.

~Rebel's POV~

The dense grasp on my neck tightened and I struggled to breathe.

Porter may not be a good fighter, but he knew tactics and weaknesses. He was strong as well, if he wanted, he could've snapped my neck as soon as he got hold of me.

Considering he didn't, he had to have some ulterior motive.

I kicked my legs furiously, trying to hit a soft spot. But to no avail, his grip tightened even more.

By this time, my airway was completley cut off and I was unable to breathe. I let out a strangled scream, trying to attract attention of anything.

A person, an animal, hell even a walker would be good with me.

To my relief, Daryl ducked through the hole in the wall and Glenn came out of the dilapidated building that was diagonal from us.

Daryl raised his crossbow and Glenn stared at him like he was insane. I saw it too. If he shot Porter, I was going to go down with him.

I tried to shake my head but failed as Porter twisted my arm. He didn't do it quite hard enough, so no bones broke and it wasn't even dislocated.

Another scream escaped my mouth and I was surprised at how loud it was.

Rick ducked under the wall and his eyes widened at the scene in front of him. He seemed to catch on to what Daryl was hinting at and what Glenn and I was trying to point out to him. He leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

Daryl's eyes widened in realization and he lowered his crossbow. Time was running out and I could feel my face becoming hot. I couldn't find any solution other than what I had read in some book.

"Come on! You guys too pussy to shoot me? Come on!" Porter shouted, probably attracting attention of a numerous amount of things. The main guy ran from under the wall and surveyed the situation. Nobody caught on to my solution as I flailed my hand up and down.

Dumbasses.

I locked eyes with Daryl and raised my arms slightly. I tapped my fingers on the opposite hand, trying to signal him what to do. He narrowed his eyes, like he was doubting the plan.

Believe me, I was too, but right now, we didn't have much time.

Daryl huffed, giving in to the plan. He raised his crossbow and aimed swiftly.

He rapidly pulled the trigger, sending the arrow flying into Porter's hand. Porter let out a cry of agony and released me. I collapsed to the ground on my knees, gasping for air.

I knew my face must've been a deep red or a light purple because there was heat freely flowing to my face and it felt like I was on fire.

Daryl kneeled beside me repeating four words over and over again.

My vision went blurry with pain and my head started to whirl. I felt two warm hands gripping the side of my face and I forced my eyes back open. Passing out in this world was not too ideal.

I panted rapidly and tried to regain my composure. If Porter wanted a second attack, it wouldn't be hard to get. I focused on what Daryl was repeating to me,

"Rebel, are ye' hurt?"

Just fine. I thought bitterly.

It's not like being strangled to near death took anything out of you. I shook my head and placed my hands over his, trying to pry them off. I needed space.

"Help me up?" I asked weakly, my voice was frail and shaky and Daryl took notice in that. He shook his head at me.

"Don't think ye' should be gettin' up anytime soon." his voice, unlike mine, was thick and powerful.

The thing I noticed most about it was the way he said the words. It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command.

"God dammit, Daryl. Help me up." I miffed.

The only thing I should do is not rip anyone's head off. I was pissed at the fact that Porter had the nerve to follow us. It wasn't my fault Piper chose to come with us.

Sure I left him and Piper came along, but that doesn't mean he can try to kill me. He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, this being one of those times.

Daryl grunted and slid his arm around my waist and the other one brushed my dingy hair off my face that was covered in a sheen of sweat.

My eyes fluttered as my head spun furiously. I took deep breaths and tried to stay awake.

The last thing I wanted to do was pass out.

With Daryl supporting me, we moved towards the truck. Our feet crunched over the gravel, but other than that, there was no sound between us.

He lifted the back of the truck and sat down, pulling me next to him.

I tried to sit straight up, allowing the blood a clean circulation route. My fingers were numb and there was a slight tingle running through my legs like they had fallen asleep.

My eyes fluttered and I fought to stay awake. It was a battle I was slowly losing.

Subconsciously, I leaned my head against Daryl's shoulder and closed my eyes.

If something happened I knew he would wake me up. Before I slipped into sleep, I felt a large hand intertwine with mine while one of the fingers rubbed circles on the outside of my hand.

I could only hope that it was Daryl's hand.

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"Rebel, wake up." A rough, twangy voice brought me out of my sleep and I almost groaned in protest. I didn't want to wake up.

"Rebel! Come on! We gotta go!" This statement alarmed me as memories of the new world dawned on me. I could sleep when I was dead.

My eyes shot open and I grabbed the bow and sheath of arrows, loading my bow in the process.

"What's going on?" I whisper-yelled, trying not to attract attention.

"Walkers attacked the camp. Ye' were sleeping. Amy's bit and so is Jim. We gotta leave soon." Daryl said.

"Why the hell didn't you wake me?" I yelled at him.

The walkers were gone so it felt safe to yell.

"Yer' weak. Ye' almost died a few hours 'go. Ye' weren't up to fighting a her of 'em. Jus' lookin' out for ye'." Daryl spat at the ground and stalked to the dissipating fire.

I slid out of the truck and staggered over to Lori and Carol who were packing up the cooking supplies. Andrea was sitting under the shade of the RV, stroking Amy's face.

How she could be near a dead person amazed me.

Soon Amy would wake up and she would have no memory of anything. She would try to kill anything in sight and that alone nauseated me.

Andrea was treating her like she was alive or she was taking a short nap.

She was brushing the stray hairs away from her face and placing dandelion weeds over the gaping bite in her neck.

I almost teared up at how lost she looked. Her sister had been bitten and she was about to awaken and try to kill her.

Lying next to Andrea was a revolver. I knew how hard it would be to shoot someone close to you.

I understood her, I sympathized with her and I knew what she was going through, unlike most people.

With the eyes of the camp on me, I slowly approached her and Amy. Andrea raised the gun in my direction, but I knew she wouldn't shoot once I told her.

I rounded Amy's body and sat Indian-style on the ground beside her. Andrea's hand shook as she pointed the gun at my head.

"I had to shoot my best friend." I told her.

Her face froze and a tear rolled down her cheek. When she didn't say anything, I continued.

"It was the hardest thing I ever did." By now, the whole camp was listening. "It's her bow I use. I also use her knife. It helps to have something of hers with me." I pulled the hem of my shirt up slightly, revealing a tattoo.

Andrea gazed at the foreign words. "What does it mean?" She asked softly.

"Documento unus rosa potest esse hortum meum ... unius amici, mundo meo." I repeated. "It means, 'A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world.' It's Latin. I got this with her, we both have it."

Andrea broke down. Sobs wracked through her body and she shook with sadness. I rubbed my hand up and down her back, comforting her in a way others could not.

Andrea may have not been the most annoying person, but she didn't deserve to lose the one thing she cared about.

No one did.

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