Bellamy Blake's Point of View

His life was over the day she was taken away. Perhaps what made it all the more worse was that he wasn't even there to prevent it. He wasn't there to save her like he promised he would when she was born. That guilt continued to eat at him, feeling particularly engulfed in it when he laid his head down to sleep. The tears he shed went on in silence. As far as any of the others knew, he was just fine. If they saw his weakness, Bellamy was sure two of them would see it to it in a painful way. A specific two, to be precise. Not that he couldn't take care of himself, but Bellamy didn't trust them to play fair.

The blistering heat splayed his face with sweat droplets as he continued to lug the wheelbarrow full of firewood back to the mingled voices that served as background music to his inner monologue. The wheel needed oiling up. It was squeaking and giving him far more issues than it had last week. He was just grateful he didn't venture too far that the journey would become even more tiresome than it already was before. He could feel the back of his neck becoming drenched from his exhaustion. He was sure he was going to stink up his tent later when he'd lay his head down for slumber. That was the time he least looked forward to.

He was forgetting her face. It has been so long since he's seen her. The Atlanta detention center refused to give him any visitation rights, deeming his baby sister too violent. Bellamy's pleas fell on deaf ears that Octavia Blake couldn't possibly be that person they said she was. But it was their word against his. He was a lowlife police cadet from a single mother with a criminal sheet as long as her partner count that tried her best to raise his kid sister while he attempted at a life he was supposed to live.

It was selfish of him. He got too comfortable. He left too soon. He should've rifled through more pamphlets instead of settling for being an officer because it provided the better cash flow. He should've been home. But, instead, he was laughing it up with a man nicknamed 'Tig' and a man named Jones, unaware his house was being raided and his mother was ultimately arrested just before Octavia assaulted the detaining officer and landed herself in a detention center.

Getting the call was the worst part. It was equal parts embarrassing and devastating all in one. He had to leave the academy before he graduated in order to calm the storm. He had managed to snag a job at a deli mart to keep the bills paid. He saw his mother every week, but soon gas became too costly and he had to stop doing even that. Bellamy was sure he couldn't take anymore hits. Then the world came to an ultimate end.

Bellamy had been in the house, watching the news. The dead were walking, and they were killing anyone on sight. Unable to do much other than pack his things along with a few photos of his mother and sister, Bellamy abandoned his home and took off. For a while he was just a nomad, jumping from group to group until he felt he had overcome his stay. He was completely engulfed with misery at the thought of his family. He told himself they were dead to make it easier. He couldn't go on knowing they were somewhere out there and he couldn't get to them.

He finally got back to camp, the wheelbarrow still making its insistent squeaking, heckling Bellamy's nerves enough that he would snap at anyone that looked at him the wrong way. Not that they deserved it. But Bellamy was always grumpy. He was always unhappy or snappy, to the point it just forced everyone to leave him alone unless absolutely necessary. Usually, they'd just shut out someone that's so intolerable, but Bellamy made himself useful enough that they couldn't lose him.

"Bellamy!"

He looked up automatically, stopping his pushing of the wheelbarrow.

"What's up, Shane?" he asked, moving along again once he realized it wasn't an emergency. He had to get to the fire pits. Shane Walsh, someone he considered to be his savior.

Bellamy was at his worst after so many groups. He was practically ready to throw himself off the rooftop of the nearest skyscraper. It would be easier. He could see Octavia and his mother again that way. But, for some odd reason, he didn't. He kept going, sluggishly in a way, until he was nearly overrun by a pack of walkers that, unbeknownst to him, were in the alley way he was turning down into. He had nothing but his trusty knife with him, so he knew it was the end.

Several gunshots later, Bellamy stood in front of the herd, all now crumpled at his feet. His hero had come in the image of Shane Walsh, a man from King County rather than Atlanta. Taking pity on him, he took him in. And since then, Bellamy's been both his friend and in his debt. Although Shane tried to tell him constantly that he owed him nothing.

This group was a little bigger than the other ones that Bellamy tagged along to. He actually liked it well enough, but he still remained stoic and stand-offish. He didn't want to get close to anyone. He almost felt like it was an insult to his family's memory, as weird as that sounds. He didn't want to be happy again, laughing with someone and pretending the world isn't shit. He didn't deserve it. But Shane was different. The man took care of Bellamy like a son. They were as close as Bellamy allowed them to be.

"You think you could warn me next time you decide to go off on your own?" Shane asked as he got closer. He seemed as sweaty as Bellamy felt, wearing his usual silver 22 necklace. "I was lookin' for you all over camp."

"What for?" Bellamy grunted, emptying the wheelbarrow and distributing the firewood evenly among every pit. "Everything seems to be goin' fine."

Shane snorted, rubbing at his nose. "My job is to know where everyone is at all times. That includes you."

"What about Daryl Dixon?"

Daryl Dixon was one of the two Bellamy had been worried about before. He was the one Bellamy remained his strongest around, not giving him or his racist brother any kind of ammo against him. The two of them were redneck, trailer trash that confused Bellamy as to why they were allowed in the group in the first place. Every time he asked Shane, he'd change the subject. Bellamy assumed it was because of their strengths and surviving expertise. Despite his feelings about them, Bellamy understood the two would probably outlive them all in this world. At the moment, he understood Merle Dixon was in Atlanta with other members of the group, scouring for supplies. As for his brother, Daryl was hunting deep in the woods, checking in on the traps he had left days before.

Shane looked disgruntled.

"I don't give a shit about Daryl Dixon. I give a shit about you."

Bellamy fought off a sarcastic laugh. "I'm fine. I'm sorry; I was getting firewood, if the wheelbarrow was any hint. What's going on?"

"Nothing...but I just think we've known each other long enough that you'd grant me the common courtesy."

Bellamy shrugged. "I didn't really think about it, I guess. I'm sorry."

Shane sighed, running a hand down his face. Bellamy chewed on his tongue, absently swinging the wheelbarrow back on forth, the only sound between them now being the squeaking of the wheel. This was also a constant, repetitive thing between the two. Shane always felt like he had to overstep his boundaries to get Bellamy to talk. He kept trying to father him when he didn't need it. He was an adult now. He knew how to feed himself and go to the bathroom, but Shane couldn't see that.

"Look, man...I'm tryin' here...a lot. But you don't wanna work with me. Now, why is that?"

"Why are you pushing it?" Bellamy groaned.

"Because you aren't." Shane said, hands splayed on his hips. He looked around, seeing passersby were beginning to stare. Stifling a sigh, he grabbed Bellamy by his arm and pulled him over to the RV. Dale was on top of it as per usual, his trusty binoculars in his hands as he lounged on the lawn chair. Bellamy liked him well enough; he was a bit of a nosy man, similar to how Shane was acting right now, but he was sweet and considerate. He was particularly protective of the Harrison sisters, Amy and Andrea. Andrea was on the run with Merle Dixon and the others while Amy seemed to be attempting to fish with a rusty bucket.

Andrea was a bitch, but Bellamy appreciated her. She was strong willed and always willing to learn something new that would help save her ass. She didn't really like him, due to the fact she didn't really trust him, but he thought she was a bit of a badass. As for her sister, Bellamy recognize more than once the way she looked at him. If not for Octavia and his mother, Bellamy knows he'd have already gone after it by now. She was very pretty and funny. He found himself chuckling a few times when they were sitting around the fire, Amy going on and on about a story from her time in college or at home. Sometimes she'd tell an embarrassing tale about her sister.

"Lori's worried about you," Shane said finally, catching Bellamy by surprise. "Before you give me the same excuse, she's a mother. She's always going to be lookin' after you, or Amy, or Sophia...it's her way. She's been pushin' me to talk to you. She wishes you'd include yourself a little more instead of just pullin' your weight and goin' to bed."

"And here I thought that's what we're supposed to do," Bellamy laughed, "Shane, I'm grateful, alright? I'm grateful about everything you've done for me. But...I can't."

"Why not? We're not your enemy, man. I'm not. You'd be surprised what you can find with these people. I just...I just want you to try, man. Stop trying to disassociate yourself so much." Shane asked, looking slightly awkward. "It's too lonely to just get through the day by workin' just to sleep, get up, and do it all over again."

"Is that Lori asking or you asking?"

"It's me asking now." Shane said seriously.

Bellamy looked away, back to the wheelbarrow that he wished he was still pushing in the trees looking for spare wood.

"I can try," Bellamy shrugged finally, "I just...I need time, man."

"I can get behind that," Shane smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it slightly. "We're here for you, man."

Bellamy smiled, truthfully for once. "Thanks, Shane."

Shane nodded, giving him one last smile before dispersing. Bellamy was left to contemplate with his thoughts, slightly frustrated that he even agreed. It hurt too much to get close to anyone. The last memory he had of Octavia was kissing her on the forehead as a goodbye. There was no telling at all what she would do. Bellamy truly wanted to blame his mother, really, but he loved her too much to do so. She's had a rocky history with jobs, boyfriends, and even drugs(she thought she was keeping it a secret from her kids, but Bellamy found the stash). It was inevitable something like this would happen.

But how could he deny something so simple? Shane and Lori wanted him to be more involved, become truly part of the group. After all Shane's done for him, didn't he at least owe him that? It wasn't like this group was hard to get along with. In fact, they were all relatively sane, good people.

Lori Grimes was a widow with a son, Carl. She was fairly pretty with a heart of gold. She often babied Bellamy the same way Shane did, checking in on him constantly to be sure he was coping okay. As for Carl, he seemed to really look up to Bellamy, even if he tried his best to avoid him. Sometimes, when Bellamy would sit on the bank of the lake, Carl would come sit by him and just talk. Bellamy wouldn't respond, but the kid didn't care. He just wanted someone to talk to that wouldn't lecture him in turn like his mother and Shane did.

Andrea and Amy were cool, too. They were polar opposites, but they were a good team. Amy seemed to like the mystery of Bellamy, often making it a point to sit by him at the fire times and wait anxiously to tell her stories so he would laugh. Andrea didn't like him, but he appreciated her.

Dale was a sweet man with good advice. He liked Bellamy well enough, and he often offered books from his RV to read. Bellamy's thumbed through five so far and he still goes back for more like a library. Without a phone, this was his only source for entertainment. Him and Dale exchanged few words, but Dale was never rude or weary of him.

And from there the numbers multiplied. Really, the only people Bellamy truly had a problem with was Daryl and Merle Dixon. Merle loathed Bellamy. He didn't trust him. He often commented on Bellamy's skin color, to the point Bellamy was ready to just sock him in the mouth when Daryl is far enough away.

Daryl wasn't as racist as his brother. But he was just as aggressive. Bellamy figured he could probably take him one on one over his brother.

But Shane hated them all the same, too. He pretty much just kept them around for their muscle. Bellamy was thankful that they weren't around today. He didn't think he could take it.

Since he was done with his chores for the day, he decided to take some alone time in his tent. He had managed to snag this from a department store before Shane discovered him. It was enough to fit four people comfortably, so it was more than enough for Bellamy. He crawled into it, his sore muscles aching. His bedspread was thrown about while his clothes were neatly folded off to the side, courtesy of Carol Peletier, the sweet woman who smiled at him every time she saw him. Above that he had several pictures pinned.

Bellamy's mouth tightened as he approached them, taking off the one on the top left. He peered at it, his hand slightly crinkling the corner from his tight grip.

Octavia's smiling face looked back at him. She was pulling at a sleeping Bellamy's hair as she grinned mischievously at the camera. Bellamy smiled. God, he missed her.

He looked up back toward the camp, watching as everyone went about their day calmly and collectively.

He just hoped she wouldn't hate him wherever she was if he just let himself be happy for a little bit.