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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters from the series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Isabelle looked at him curiously, fascinated by his eyes. They were becoming intoxicating, she wanted to know what was behind those walls he held up so firmly. There was strength there, and weakness. He looked away uncomfortably and she stepped backwards, confused by her own fascination. This was not her, men chased her, they were interested in her body. She did not have her head turned by blue eyes, she did not fall for men. They made themselves worthy of her attention. That was how the world worked. They provided things she needed and she gave them her attention, sometimes they got her body. This, whatever this was, was not her. Turning to put the shoes away once more. Her hand rested on the ladder and she started to pull herself up only for the strength to leave her. Her body rebelling against the movement and refusing to expend any more energy.
Before her knees hit the floor an arm had her, pulling her sideways and onto the bed. She fought the trembling, every muscle screaming at her before relaxing once more. With gritted teeth, she moved to stand up once more, only for a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “You need to rest ladyship, you keep pushing and you’re gonna do yourself an injury,” Daryl pointed out.
“I’m fine,” Isabelle snapped, furious at her situation.
“No, you’re not,” Daryl stated calmly. “You need to stay put, I’ll take the top bunk.”
“I’m not weak, I can make it,” Isabelle started again but his hand was still on her shoulder and she was in no state to push against him.
“You know you need to learn to just accept help,” Daryl snapped. “You ain’t gonna get anywhere by arguing when you’re in the wrong.” Isabelle bit back her retort and slowly nodded. His hand left her shoulder. “Beth was right you know, we all need to help each other now. You ain’t gonna make any friends by refusing help.”
          Isabelle rolled her neck slowly to release the tension and nodded. “I’ll remember that,” she looked at him coldly.
“You know you ain’t as tough as you make out to be,” Daryl retorted. “You did a lot of talking while you were out for the count.” Isabelle felt her blood run cold and she watched him carefully. Wondering what she had said. There were a lot of things she’d rather this group didn’t know. “I’m not gonna say anything, what’s in the past is in the past. Everyone has their secrets. Rick heard stuff though, enough to make him think you’re not good for this group. Get some rest, I’ll come check on you later.”
          She watched him turn to leave and bit her lip. “Daryl… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said, I…”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s in the past. I ain’t looking for an apology,” Daryl glanced back to her from the doorway. “Just remember, who you are now is the real you. Might as well be who you really are.”      Isabelle felt her jaw drop in surprise. What had she said?! “Get some rest.”
Quietly she did as she was told and dropped onto the bed, her body instantly relaxing. Her face turned to the pillow, it had his scent all over it. That earthy, natural smell of woods and campfires. Silently she curled up, drawing her knees to her chest and drifting off. A sense of security and safety from the concrete walls coupled with the smell of home and happier times she fell into a deep sleep.
The forest was dark; the distant flickering of a fire drew her attention. Isabelle made her way closer, there was nothing in the clearing but the largest bonfire she had seen in all her life. The heat drew her nearer and she held her hands towards the flames, warming them… she was so cold out here alone. Winter snows were falling in the forest now as the flames rose higher. There were footprints leading around the other side of the bonfire, past where she could see. She lowered her hands from the warmth and slowly followed them. Her heart was beating too quickly as the path of footprints extended away and into the dark gloom of the forest beyond. Someone was calling for help but there was safety by the fire, she glanced back at its warmth one last time before heading back into the cold of the woods. Silence echoed around her as soon as she stepped into the densely packed trees and the cries for help had been replaced with desperate, heart wrenching sobs.
          Brushing aside branches Isabelle found herself back at the fire in the open clearing but now there were people. Everywhere she could see they were crowded and they all turned to look at her with empty eyes as they watched her approach. She needed to reach the fire, she was too cold, but the bodies pressing towards her were too threatening. Before she could step back into the forest and disappear two men grasped her wrists and dragged her into the middle of the gang. A scream ripped from her throat as fear, all consuming, drenched her senses. She couldn’t pull her hands free, they were too firmly held as she was tripped and sent sprawling to the floor. Hands were all over her body, touching and pinching every inch of her.
Her jumper was shoved up to her arm pits as hands groped over her breasts and yet more worked on her jeans. She writhed and kicked but for every body she hit away three more pushed forwards and got more insistent with their tugging at her jeans. Hands were inside them now, fingers roughly brushing over her panties and pushing their way under. She screamed as a finger worked its way inside her and a body pressed down heavily on top of her, someone biting into her neck and pushing their hips into hers roughly. Isabelle desperately tried to pull her hands free as the man on top of her kicked her legs apart and yet more hands grabbed her ankles and wrested them into stillness. She shrieked again and screamed for someone to help her, she pleaded to be released but there was just laughter at her futile attempts to escape. Hands pressed against her throat, forcing her airway closed as she gasped desperately and fought for her life.
Jerking awake Isabelle gasped for breath desperately, her hands pressed over the cold imprints where the nightmare hands had clung. Sweat ran down her back and clung to her skin coldly. Slowly she calmed her breathing reminding herself that it was just a nightmare, nothing more as she stroked the skin of her throat. The sun was up but paler, as if dawn had just broken. She’d slept through the entire afternoon and night. A bowl of rice covered with beans rested on the chair with a spoon beside it and another bottle of water. Slowly she eased herself upright and reached for it. The cold contents somehow more satisfying than the entire four course meal she’d enjoyed at one of the exclusive New York restaurants only a year ago. Sated and full, she relaxed back onto the bed again, wondering where Daryl had slept. Wondering if she’d spoken to him again in her sleep, if she’d screamed something out.
Claustrophobia began to drown her, as if all the hands of the nightmare were still pressing in and on to her, groping and grasping through her clothes. Fear drove her from the small cell and she stepped out onto the metal balcony. A man with one leg was limping down the corridor below, supported by a heavily pregnant Lori and Beth. She paused, wondering if she should follow or stay. Trepidation muddled with the claustrophobia until she was all but vibrating on the spot with anxiety. She couldn’t take it anymore. The dream was pressing against her thoughts, insistent to be remembered and the cold imposing walls of the concrete prison that had been a comfort only hours before now felt threatening. With little extra thought, she clattered down the metal stairway and jogged to the entranceway. Beth was still holding the door open for her when she got there. “Thought you might want to come outside,” Beth grinned pleasantly.
“Thanks,” Isabelle smiled back gratefully as she stepped through.
“You ok? Daryl said you were having a rough time?” Beth queried gently, walking alongside her as they descended the steps.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, just some bad dreams. I’m not keeping everyone up, am I?” Isabelle blanched at the thought of her being noisy enough for everyone to hear. Noises did echo in the cell block.
“No,” Beth grinned. “Just Daryl, but he doesn’t sleep much anyway,” The girl grinned and for a moment Isabelle wondered if she had meant to imply what she had implied. Her sweet little smile denoted that she did not see the alternate meaning of those words.
“I should probably apologise to him,” Isabelle grimaced. “Can’t imagine it’s any fun.”
They reached the bottom of the steps and Isabelle paused as the last door opened and they stepped into unobstructed sunlight. The memories of the dream began to recede as the sun warmed her face and she smiled in gratitude. The gentle light pushed away the last tendrils of dark memory and Beth took her leave quietly as Isabelle paused to take it all in. Laughter and jokes were gently rolling on the breeze from the family to her right causing her to smile despite herself at the simple pleasure of good company and clean air. How long had it been since she’d heard pure laughter? With her eyes closed she could almost believe the end of the world hadn’t come. Her arms stretched up, as if she could reach the sun itself and the last memories of the nightmare fell away with the release of tension in her shoulders.
Her eyes fluttered back open, taking in the prison, the chain link fences and she stepped further into the courtyard. Letting the group fall behind her, their jolly chatter and laughter rippling in renewing waves as Isabelle wandered towards the gate. She rested against it looking out towards her horse, the mare quietly grazing even as walkers thudded their rotten hands against the fence less than twenty feet from her. She smiled at the mare, her first saviour. Her energy was already draining and she turned from the fence to the picnic table not far away. She sank onto the bench and leaned back, letting her eyes slide closed again to block out the sight of the walkers and soak more of the sun in.
“Hey,” Beth’s voice was suddenly close and Isabelle jumped before shuffling up the bench to let the young woman sit with her. They say in silence for a moment. “Did you dance?” Beth whispered, hugging her leg to her chest.
“Yeah, I was a prima ballerina with the Royal Ballet,” Isabelle smiled wistfully, she glanced at the young woman next to her and sat a little straighter.
“I always wanted to learn to dance but there wasn’t anywhere nearby,” Beth grinned sheepishly, brushing hair from her face.
“That’s such a shame, I’m sure you’d have loved it,” Isabelle beamed back, she liked the girl’s sweetness. It was refreshingly innocent.
“We went to see one once, in Atlanta. Me, my mom and Maggie, we saw the Nutcracker one Christmas time a couple of years ago,” Beth laughed. “I loved the costumes and the way that the dancers seemed to float across the stage. There was this one dancer who span three or four times and then went completely still and got her leg so high over her head. She was on her toes the whole time and she didn’t even need anyone to support her! There was so much applause.”
          Isabelle felt her smile falter and she shuffled uncomfortably, knowing that the performance Beth was describing was her own. It had been one of her debuts and she had challenged the director to let her risk both of their reputations by including a move she hadn’t perfected in the practice studios. A triple pirouette into a full stationary extension above her head without a supporting hand or pause between the movements. It had paid off and rocketed both into the halls of ballet fame, it had also been the first time she’d ever done it without falling over or coming off pointe. The audience had assumed it was a move long practiced and scripted, critiques had heralded it a break through and dancers had struggled to replicate it ever since with varying degrees of success.
The peaceful afternoon shattered with a scream, both women turning to glance back at the unfolding scene. Beth was the first to move, on her feet in an instant and running back to her father.
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Survival Isn't An Option