Cold and dark. That's all there was before, and that's all there is now. Hunger and yelling. The very sounds I dread to even hear. Thirst and dirt. Two things I've grown to despise. My father and mother. Two people I'm glad are gone. My instructor and guide. Two people I needed at the moment.

To the outside world, this is just another clinic for the handicapped. Old wheelchairs, I've walked into a few, were over turned in the halls. Doors and windows broken, from continuous pounding and scratching. A warm liquid, I've often stepped on, I've identified as blood. The walls are even covered in the sticky, starting to stink, liquid.

A few bodies of previous tenants littered rooms and the stairs. In the mad rush to get out a lot of people got trampled. I remember Mrs. Jones, my guide, telling me the awful stories. For two days straight we listened to the broadcasts about the virus. Even though I couldn't watch it, I listened to the news every night. That is until the cable went out.

I could make out the dim outlines of oddly lit shelves around the small room. The flickering light adding to my pounding headache. I fumbled with my hands next to me, searching for a water bottle. Sadly when I put it to my lips, nothing came out. I forgot that it ran out yesterday.

I pulled out a snack bar from my pocket and shoved it into my mouth. My stomach groaning for more, when I was done chewing. I rubbed my empty tummy, wishing for a savior. But sadly no one has come for me. I've been forgotten about in this God forsaken closet. Locked in here with only me, myself, and I. Unless you count, Mr. Tubsworth, my teddy bear.

I hugged the bear tighter, its fur matting with my tears. My lips were too dry to even try to speak to myself. I cursed Mrs. Jones silently to myself. She did this to me. She left to "check on her family". And never came back, and for that I disliked her. It's not like I can fend for myself.

I'm only eleven. Not to mention have no weapon in here. As if being defenseless wasn't bad enough, I'm also blind. As in, I can't see anything except faint outlines and things of that nature.

I got into an accident when I was seven. So I've seen most of this boring little town. I think I'm better off not seeing in this situation. I could only imagine what the infected looked like.

There was more moaning out in the hallway. I squeezed my bear tighter and curled into the corner. I heard them pounding at the doors. I was sitting bait in here, and there's nothing I can do about it. Any time now, their gonna bust through the wood frame. Try to eat my face off. They can gladly take my useless eyes.

I may be hallucinating, back to when the world went to hell. But I could swear I heard talking outside. I played it off as my over active imagination. For so long I've craved human companions. My mind must have finally snapped and created company for it. But my heart sped up at their words.

"Do you think anyone's in there?" This man had a southern drawl. "Walkers just don't swarm a door for no reason." Were they talking about the room I was in? "It's locked from the inside." There was silence and it sounded like they left. I quietly got on my hands and knees. I crawled along the cold, damp wall. Feeling my way to the solid wood door. I put Mr. Tubsworth under one arm, and used the other one to grab the door knob. I pulled myself onto my knees.

I had to reach to get to the latch on the door. The cold metal teasing my little fingertips. With what strength I had left I pushed the latch from the hook. I unlocked the lock on the door knob. I hesitated at pulling the door open. I'm not sure their even really there. What if I open the door and get attacked? Then that's my own stupidity.

The door opened before I could turn the knob, and I quickly crawled back into the corner. And hid my face in my lap, waiting for the groans and snarling. "Oh my God!" Someone said and I kept my face hidden. "It's a child." A gentle voice seemed to calm my anxiety. I reached out in front of me, and felt for feet. I hit something that felt like worn leather.

Someone knelt in front of me. "Who are you?" The same soothing voice asked from in front of me. "Lanie." I blurted excitedly. "Well, Lanie. I'm Rick. That's Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog." I felt he didn't notice I couldn't see who he was pointing at. I raised my arms above me and felt around Rick's face. His brows were furrowed together almost in a confused expression. His lips were in a smile, his lips soft under my rough fingers. He had what felt like stubble along his jaw. He felt handsome.

"Not to sound rude. But can she even see us?" Someone with a deeper voice asked from somewhere by the door. "No. I can't." I said sheepishly and a hand grabbed mine. "She's blind? She's a liability." The southern drawl again. "She's a kid. We can't just leave her." A younger sounding one said from beside me somewhere. "How old are you?" Rick asked and squeezed my hand. "Eleven. I'll be good, I promise." I didn't want them to just leave me here alone again.

"We better get out of here then." The man with the drawl didn't sound so rude towards me now. I heard them ransacking the room for whatever they could find. They wouldn't find much. Maybe a magazine or two, totally useless to me. Empty cans and empty bottles strewn around the room like confetti.

I gripped onto Mr. Tubsworth tightly when someone started pulling on my arm. "Walkers!" Someone yelled and I clung to whoever was close to me. Arms scooped me up and pushed my head into their shoulder. Even though I can't see, I clamped my eyes shut. Something cold and wet hit my face. "Ahh!" I yelped and wiped my face on the shirt of the person carrying me.

A few moments later I opened my eyes. Everything seemed brighter, we must be outside. I kept my arms around whoever's neck, Mr. Tubsworth in between our chests. I inhaled the one holding me. The strong scent of musk, a hint of cologne, and death hit me. I barely let my fingers run along the persons jaw, but they moved my hand away.

"You take her. My arms hurt." So it was the man with the deep drawl carrying me. "Fine." Rick said and I was put flat footed onto the ground. "Sweetie, take my hand." Rick said and I felt his hand on my wrist. I hooked our hands together and he started walking again. I was basically tripping over my own feet. Every little pebble digging into the soles of my bare feet. I'm not one to complain so I just sucked it up.

"She's bleeding." The deeper voice observed and we stopped moving again. "Sit here." Rick pushed me to sit on what felt like a car hood. I felt hands grip my ankles and bring them up to a face, the person's breath tickling my sensitive feet. "Damn, looks like glass." Rick said and something soft ran over my foot.

"I'll carry her." One said, I think I heard Rick mumble his name, Glenn. He hoisted me onto his back, holding onto my legs around his waist. "Are you Glenn?" I wanted to be certain of who was who in this group. "Yes." I let go of him with one hand and it traveled to his face.

He had a medium sized face. I hit something that felt like a hat. Without thinking, I took it from him and put it on my head. "Looks good on you." He chuckled. I felt his lips, smiling for sure. His eyes felt different than Rick's. "Are you Asian?" I blurted the question. And he froze for a moment, before moving again.

"He's a Chinaman." The southern drawl snapped and I heard Glenn hiss in annoyance. "I'm Korean." His voice got colder. I knew he wasn't mad at me but the one belonging to the mean voice. "Who's that?" I whispered.

"That's Daryl Dixon. Our resident jackass." He snickered and I heard, Daryl, mumbling to himself. I rested my head on the back of his neck. His hair tickling my forehead when he moved. I made sure Mr. Tubsworth was safely tucked between our bodies. I closed my heavy eye lids and inhaled his scent. He smelled good. Like faded laundry detergent, death, and soap.

I reluctantly let sleep take over. At least I had people to look out for me now. I could rest for a few moments in serenity. It felt like I haven't slept in weeks.

Glenn's POV

Lanie was asleep on my back. Not too long ago T-Dog pointed out how adorable she looked.

I wonder why she was locked in that closet. Why was she alone? Who in their right mind would leave a defenseless, blind, eleven year old alone like that? All I know is she seemed like an okay kid. She wasn't nosy. She didn't ask annoying questions and never complained. Even with her feet all injured like that, she never said anything.

I felt the brim of my hat on her head, digging into my neck. But I didn't want to disturb the poor girl. I felt that bear of hers pressing into my shoulder blades. "How did she manage to live this long?" Rick asked more to himself than to us. "Whoever left her wasn't stupid." Was all Daryl had to say to his question.

We still had a good three miles back to camp. In about an hour, I'm gonna have to switch off who carries her. My arms are hurting, my knees are weak, and my neck is cramping something awful. But my first priority was to keep watch for movement on the road. I not only had to protect my own ass. I had to protect Daryl, T-Dog, and Rick. Now this innocent angel on my back. She was relying solely on us, to save her from the daily nightmare. I couldn't let her down. I could never let anyone down like that.