Amy Harris dropped her backpack next to the hard plastic chair she had drug from across the street pressing the back up against the middle of the fifteen foot long brick wall that made up the side of the local Food Way. The town was utterly void of life, just like the town before that, and the one before that. And she had traveled each one in complete silence.<br/>She slid against the bright yellow plastic getting as comfortable as she was going to get, pulling the small worn pick from her jean pocket. Silence wasn't in her nature. Amy had wanted to he seen from the moment of her birth, wanted to be heard the instant she opened her mouth. 20 years later she was going days on end in utter quite desperately afraid of drawing the attention of... whatever the hell they were.<br/>She unzipped the soft guitar case pulling the finely crafted acoustic from its confines. The guitar had been her fathers, it had been the instrument he played with her when she was learning to harmonise and was the only thing she had left of her former life. She bit down on the pic flexing and stretching her fingers. they were surprisingly tense, so much so that she was reminded of her first time playing in front of a crowd. Feeling that same nervous chill that churned in her gut and lingered there long after the concert had ended. She knew if they heard her they would come, she knew if they came she would have to face them again and that wasn't something Amy was prepared for.<br/>Amy pluck the strings lightly feeling the instrument vibrate ever so slightly in her grip, it hardly made a sound yet that soft melody was enough to send a shiver of fear down her spine. Amy glanced around, looking forward, towards the street, left down the wall then right. Nothing could sneak up behind her. Nothing could move towards her without her seeing it, she knew there wasn't going to be a safer spot then this. She couldn't be trapped here and unless a mob of them came from every angel, something that was highly unlikely with as deserted as everything seamed, she knew if one did show up she could run off in the opposite direction long before it reached her.<br/>She strummed the guitar again putting a little more force behind her movements this time but still hesitated. Amy took a deep breath setting her jaw. Sliding her fingers along the instruments neck Amy pressed against the thin wires taking on last deep breath. she had been silent for far to long.<br/>Without an amplifier the sound didn't stretch as far as it should have, stretching at the most five blocks and that was only because the place was dead quite having only the delicate sounds of nature to shattered the tranquility of that shell of a town. Amy played as if she had one anyway, slamming her pic down making the interment come alive with notes that ran seamlessly from one to the other. Amy screamed her lyrics out over the deadened town trying to stay in tempo but was unable to restrain herself.<br/>The song she sang was a soft rhythm about a girl lost in a sea of regret yet Amy played it as hard as she could kicking up the notes, speeding them up. It was a damn fool thing to do but she couldn't help it, she was born with music in her veins, she lived for it. She supposed if she had to die for something there was no better reason then dieing for what she loved.