(g/s)=German Sister

(f/s)=French Son

Gilbert creaked his eyes open, letting them adjust to the light. He heard faint car skids, though the streets were empty. As he looked himself over, he remembered that he was in a car wreck, seeing all the bandages and dried blood. "...Francis..." he croaked. "...Antonio..." he remembered hearing their voices. He knew they were there, in that hospital room, visiting him. But when he looked around, one would think that no one has even spared a glance this way, and if they did...it wasn't for a friendly visit.

Lights were cracked and flickering on and off. There was broken glass and other litter on the ground. The vase that sat on the bedside table was full of once beautiful, lively red roses and white daisies, now withered and crumbling at his touch as he gently stroked the rotting maroon and grey pedals and withered yellow leaves with his pale fingers.

Steadily and with much difficulty, Gilbert crawled out of bed and leaned on his IV pole for support as he walked across the room to the bathroom, the glass crunching under his bare feet. He looked in the mirror and just stood there, staring at his reflection for some time. His once bright red eyes now were deep and corps-like. Burses and cuts scattered his face, neck, chest, and arms. Consuming his cheeks and chin was a silvery stubble beard. All down his white arms was the same hairy, ungroom state. His hair that once was short and could've only been described as awesome was now long and unkempt with an obvious bed head. "...How long have I been here?"

With a sigh, Gilbert walked out of the room and had to shove the door open due to the gurney in the doorway. As he walked down the flickering lit halls, he only saw more broken glass, shattered windows, and blood spills. He made his way out a side door, seeing every other door chained closed, and the sight outside was far worse than inside. Corpses were scattered all over the parking lot and piled on one another. He saw men, women, children, all piled together in trash bags as he tried to make his way through the graveyard.

When he finally made it home, he ran through the door with all the strength he had in him. "West! You would not BELIEVE what happ-" he paused when he saw the state of his home, it was nearly whipped clean. The walls were bare and cabinets and drawers were left slightly open. "...West? ...Frau?" he called out. When Gilbert got no answer, he hurried to his little brother's room. "Ludwig!" Seeing the room empty, he bolted to his baby sister's room. "(g/s/n)!"

The whole house was empty. Gilbert searched several times for his little brother and sister before he started screaming and crying, beating his head on his wrists. "Come on Gil! Wake up!" he begged himself before he curled in a ball and broke down in tears right in his bare, glass filled living room.

As much as he wanted it to be, this was no nightmare. He really was in the hospital where some kind of massacre happened. His home really was empty. His brother and sister are really gone. He really was all alone in this world.

He remembered how he ended up in the hospital in the first place.

Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio were simply riding around in town, having fun. With Antonio at the wheel, a glass of wine in Francis' left hand, a random slutty woman on his right in the back seat, an ice cold beer in Gilbert's right hand, and a slut in his lap supported by his left, life felt good at that moment. Though the Spaniard looked at his two friends, seemingly against their decisions, he still laughed. "Hey Francis, what does your son think of her?"

"How should I know?" Francis answered him. "(f/s/n)'s sixteen. He doesn't need his papa anymore; he hasn't needed his maman since he was a toddler."

"Francy Pants! No negativity allowed!" Gilbert yelled/chuckled, taking a swing of beer.

"And, what about your hermanos?" Antonio asked, turning to the albino in the passenger's seat.

"West hasn't cared about who I bring in my bed in years, and Frau never puts her nose in my business like that. She's not mein Mutti."

Antonio just sighed before he noticed something. "Gilbert, why not you put on your seatbelt?"

"Seatbelts are for dumcoffs!" he answered. "Besides, I don't want Monica to be uncomfortable."

When the green eyed Spaniard returned his gaze to the road, he had to swerve to avoid the oncoming car. Though the other car swerved the other way and didn't crash into them, yelling several curses out the window, Antonio swears that the large oak tree wasn't there seconds before.

Francis' slut had head trauma, both Francis and Antonio had several cuts and bruises from the broken glass of the windshield and other windows and the impact the seatbelts left on them after the crash, Gilbert's slut was tossed out of the car all together and died by the time the ambulance came, and Gilbert himself was slung over the hood of the car. Chunks of glass stuck out from him and he was nearly drowning in his own blood when ambulance finally came.

Once he calmed down a little, Gilbert got outside for fresh air and sat on the curb, sinking more into his thought of the crash, as well as regrets of not listening to his friend. Though he didn't hear anyone walk up behind him, he more than felt the throbbing pain in his head when it made contact with the metal bat. His vision blurred as he saw two men in the street, the blond man shooting the other in the head without a second's hesitation before he twisted and fell to the ground. When he looked up, he only saw the blurry outline of a girl. "...(g/s/n)...?" he called out before his vision went black.

"Lili! Are you alright?!" the man called as he ran over to his little sister, who nodded.

"I'm fine Big Brother...It's just...this one TALKED!"

The blond man shook his head. "Walkers can't talk, you know that. You probably got a live one. Let's take him back to the house, we'll figure it out from there."