AS SOME OF YOU MAY KNOW, I'VE DECIDED TO REWRITE PIECES. JUST A FEW THINGS HAVE CHANGED, BUT NOTHING MAJOR. I'M HOPING TO HAVE THE REST OF THE RE-WRITTEN CHAPTERS UP LATER THIS WEEK! THANKS SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME THROUGHOUT THIS MESS, ALSO CALLED MY LIFE.

XOXO RORA.

Sovay Martin looked around at the sparse colonial style buildings, the single stop light and the people taking a Sunday stroll. Small town America it is then.

When she'd received the call late last night she didn't expect Sam to sound so…together. Which was quite horrible of her really, and yet not quite as horrible as thinking he was dead in a ditch somewhere, like she had been thinking. Actually, she was rather relieved by the call, finally knowing for a fact that her best friend was somewhere safe and unharmed. But her relief was turned to surprise when, not only did Sam tell her exactly where was, but that he needed to see her. Immediately.

It's not what Sovay would normally do late on a Saturday night, but did the only logical thing that a girl could do in her situation. She hung up the phone, packed a small bag with a few days worth of clothes, grabbed her wallet, phone and keys, an headed out the door. She threw everything into her old beat up Chevy and took off, typing Senoia, Georgia into the GPS on her phone as she drove towards the on-ramp of the highway. But that was yesterday, and after a 7 hours drive through the night featuring what she's sure is an unhealthy amount of 5-hour energy shots, she stood outside her hooptie, completely exhausted, slightly annoyed, and anxious to see Sam.

She stood there looking at her surroundings, wondering which direction she should try first. And really, there was only 2 paths to chose from, walking straight into what looked like downtown, and behind her, which led back out of town. Because apparently when Sam says small town, he means small town. She took a second look and sighed aloud. This is so not going to work. Her phone rang and she looked down to see a familiar number across the screen. Sam.

"Where the hell are you? Where the hell am I?" she said loudly. A few people in the street turned to give her a dirty look.

A chuckle came from the other end. "You're on Main Street. I can see you from here."

She looked around quickly, finally noticing her friend waving wildly at her from inside a diner window about a block away. Closing the phone, she stepped off the curb and crossed the street, heading straight for the small restaurant. When she opened the glass door and walked inside she was hit with a gust of cool air, giving her a chill. These people certainly appreciate their air conditioning, she thought. You can't really blame them though; Georgia in the height of summer can be killer.

She's soon wrapped up in a tight hug by a friend she hadn't seen in over a year. "Sovie. God I missed you."

Up close Sovay could see the differences a year had made on her friend. His hair was longer, but well groomed, and lighter, as if he'd spent a lot of time in the sun, seconded but the dark tan on his skin. He'd also noticeably put on some weight, which made him look truly healthy for the first time since they were children. She pulled back from his grasp to look into his face, seeing nothing of his mental status, but the bright smile plastered there. This concerned her. "Sam, where the fuck have you been? What happened? Why did you call?"

The smile on his face fell then, just a bit, but enough so that she noticed. "We need to talk."

Detective Grimes wiped a hand over his face and looked up from the scene in front of him. In all his years, he'd never seen something like this, and was sure he never wanted to again. The poor girl was left in pieces. Literal pieces, and put back together wrong, twisted, upside down and sown back together. The only part of her in the correct place was her head but her mouth was open in a silent scream. He wasn't going to be having a peaceful night's sleep for awhile.

He didn't recognize her which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant it wasn't someone he knew, and he knew everyone in the small town. But that meant that someone or something brought her here, and that person or thing could still be around.

He was pulled from his musings by the roar of a motorcycle as his partner pulled onto the scene. Detective Daryl Dixon had been with the Georgia State Police for more than a decade with three years undercover in vice, before transferring back to his hometown of Senoia. Sheriff

Grimes hired him on the spot, despite the infamy surrounding the Dixon name. He had moved to town after Daryl left in a cloud of dust following his brother Merle's latest and most severe conviction, and Rick had only heard good things from his contacts in the Georgia State Police. Plus, the department was a man down after Rick's former partner, Shane Walsh, was forced to 'retire' early.

Despite not knowing each other for very long the pair were two of the highest rated detectives in the state. They had more arrests, closed cases and convictions than any other partnership, not to mention that they quickly became best friends. Brothers, even.

The leaves crunched under his boots as strode up to stand next to his partner, and Rick took in Daryl's usual apparel, a look that had always let him blend in so well while working vice. Long messy hair, unshaven face, flannel, vest, old jeans and boots; the exact opposite of the State Police's minimum standards. It took a few weeks after being assigned to work together for Rick to realize that this was Dixon's normal style, not just part of an act that he was having a hard time to shake. This also applied to the man's terse attitude, which was probably why no one ever complained about his clothing or choice of vehicle.

"Got 'nthing?" He man was gruff and to the point, not caring for niceties or small talk, something Grimes could respect. It's part of what made Daryl so believable undercover. He looked the part, spoke and acted it, sometimes he even smelt it. He didn't care about appearances, he never had and probably never would. It's part of what made him such a good cop.

"Nah. Greene's workin' on a ID, M.E.'s on his way." Grimes inclined his head off towards the brunette sitting in a patrol car, speaking animatedly on her cell phone.

"Hmph." He shifted his feet and grimaced at the sight before him. "Tha's some nasty shit."

Rick nodded in agreement. He didn't know much about the other man's past cases, but he was fairly certain that this one the worst that either of them had seen. "Got any ideas?"

"Nah. Ne'r seen nuttin' this fucked up." He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable by the sight. "Rookie! C'mon then! I ain't got all day!"

Maggie Greene came running up from the patrol car she'd been sitting in, notebook in hand, a frown spoiling her usual chipper face. "Dixon, Rick," she said in leu of a proper greeting. "Her name's Sophia Peletier, aged 19. Mother re—"

"Peletier?" Rick asked, "Why's that sound familiar?"

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "Peletier's tha' ol' fuck we got call'd ou' fo' 'bout 9 mon'h's 'go in 'Lanta. Wife beater got outta tha joint, got 'imself kilt ina bar fight a day later."

The detective nodded his head, remembering when he and Daryl notified the older woman, Carol, about her deceased husband, and how relived she looked at the news. He doubted it would be the same situation when they told her of her daughter's death.

Maggie looked between the 2 men wondering if they we finished strolling down memory lane before she continued. "So anyway, her mother reported her missing two days ago from Atlanta."

"Tha hell she doin' 'ere then?" Senoia was nearly an hour away by car.

"Don't know. Her mother said she'd been out with friends the night before at a party at one of the frat houses at Georgia State. Friends said she was there one minute, gone the next. Thought she'd just left with someone until the couldn't reach her the next day."

Daryl half growled, half sighed. "Damn college girls."

Rick nodded his head in agreement. "Daryl, you and I will go talk to the mother, see what we can find out. Maggie, you and Martinez stay here and wait for Bob, see if he can give you a time of death. We'll call Tyreese and 'Chonne on the road, have them interview the friends."

The team acknowledged their consent and split up to perform their tasks. Rick opened the door to his 4-door pickup as Daryl swung his leg over his bike. "I got a feeling this one's going to be messy."

Sam ushered her to sit, and refused to answer her until the waitress had come and gone, no order placed but coffee and lots of it. But once the woman had turned her back he leaned in close with a quiet and excited voice. "Something happened, So."

The words instantly made her frown and her heart race. "What do you mean, 'Something happened'?" Her eyes scanned his face for the second time that day, looking for clues. "Are you off your meds?"

The man chuckled and smirked at his old friend. He really had changed in the last year. He looked happier. "Of course I am, you know how those things make me feel. It's nothing bad, I swear." He grinned even wider. "I met someone, Sovie. She's—"

"You…met someone," she interrupted and he nodded vigorously. "You met someone," she repeated. "You disappear for over a year, and when you finally call me up, telling me that I have to drop everything and drive to the middle of nowhere, it's because you met someone?!" She was furious. Of all the images she'd stored away in her head of this reunion, all the circumstances that would bring her best friend back to her after all this time, never would she have guessed that it would have to do with Sam's love life. His freakin' love life. Unbelievable.

The smile slipped from his face and he looked at her with hard eyes. "She's not just someone, So, she's everything. She makes me feel alive again and I want you to meet her."

She barely breathed out "Sam—," before he cut her off.

"No! No. It's important, she's important, and you have to—you have to meet her, Sovie, you have to." He looked nervous finally, for the first time since she'd arrived. This must be pretty damn important to him, she figured.

She sighed again, her gaze slipping down as she shook her head. "Ok Sammy, I'll meet her. What's her name?" She never stood much of a chance when it came to him.

His smile got even bigger, bigger than she'd seen in a long time. "Beth. Her name is Beth Greene, and I'm going to ask her to marry me."

She checked into the town's only hotel, a tiny bed and breakfast run by a talkative old man named Dale and his granddaughter Amy. By the time she finally made it upstairs to her room, she'd heard all about the history of the place, how Dale opened the B&B with his late wife shortly after they were married, raised their kids there, and then their two granddaughters. Amy's older sister was some fancy lawyer up in Atlanta, and Amy herself was studying business at the community college.

She'd learned more than she needed to—definitely much more—but she was raised to be polite and that's what she'd be, always. Sovay Martin was her mother's daughter and manners would be kept.

The first thing she did when she entered the room was to flop down on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling and went over the events of the last 24 hours in her head. Waking up after a late night waitressing at the bar, and trying to figure out if she had enough money to pay her very overdue rent yet. Then the seven hour drive from Louisville to nowhere Senoia took just about everything she had, especially since she'd hardly slept the night before. Crazy ex-boyfriends would do that to you. You'd think that being locked up would slow him down at least a little, but no, not Tomas. Sovay sure knew how to pick 'em.

Getting out of town was just what she needed, even if it happened more suddenly than she would've liked. Still, it was probably a blessing in disguise that Sam had finally called her. When he'd left without a word more than a year before she was certain that something had happened. Sure, he wasn't the most dependable or reliable person, but he'd never just left like that. And especially not without his meds.

Sam was diagnosed as severely bipolar with a mild case of depression and what looked like to be the beginnings of schizophrenia towards the end of his freshman year of college, and he was fine, most of the time, as long as he took his meds. Now four years later, she didn't know what to expect when she saw him, not since he'd gone a year without.

She replayed the conversation they'd had in her mind as she lay there, parts of the old Sam shining through. She learned that he'd come here nearly six months ago, and only stopped because the car he had broke down. It was the middle of the night, so no auto repair shop for the moment, and walked into the diner where we had sat. He said his eyes found her as soon as he crossed the threshold.

Beth Greene, the most beautiful girl in the world. She's only 18, only just graduated this past June but he didn't care and neither did she. Suddenly he had a reason to stay a little longer.

They quit sneaking around three months ago and he met her parents, her family. When he talked about his he only mentioned Sovie, and she knew all about his diagnosis. Apparently she's helping him, wants to study medicine after her tour at Georgia State. He says the age difference doesn't bother him as much as you'd think. It's only 7 years, he said. She didn't want to ask him what her father thought.

He asked if she'd stay awhile, if she'd come to meet his new family, his Beth. Of course, she said, like that's even a question. He'd grinned again and she realized how much she'd missed that, missed him. She was tempted to throw it in his face, what losing her best friend felt like, but she decided to wait. He's happy now, she thought, let him be happy for awhile longer.

She sat up on the bed, intending to get up and shower before she crashed out for the night, feeling sticky after the long drive, and spending a large part of the day in the Southern heat. She turned on the TV for some background noise and flipped to the news, an old habit she'd picked up from her father. They were just finishing up the weather when they aired a special report.

"A body was found early this morning near Hutchins Lake by some hunters. Senoia's Police Department have identified the remains as 19-year old Sophia Peletier, who went missing after a Greek house party in Atlanta on Friday night. Police have not said why the girl would be in the area, or if she came of her own volition. They have also refrained from mentioning the manner of her death, whether it be an accident or otherwise. Sheriff Rick Grimes is heading up the investigation, but as of yet, no official comments have been made."

They flashed a picture of the poor girl on the screen, a pretty young brunette with hazel eyes. Sovay's stomach turned and she bit back the bile rising in her throat. No, no way. Her head started spinning and she felt faint, as her heart started racing. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did.

This girl was killed by The Preston Street Butcher. She didn't know why, or how, or why he'd be here, but she was certain. She needed to talk to this Rick Grimes person, right now.