Hi. I'm honestly not sure whether I want this to be like an introductory chapter or if I wasnt it as a one shot/two shot so if you could review, or PM me then I'd really appreciate your opinion. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead.
He could hear her high pitched screams, begging for mercy as they slowly stripped her bare.
He could hear her whispered prayers prior to her kidnapping when she thought he was out of ear shot, praying for Maggie to come find her.
He could hear her soft, melodic singing as her fingers danced along the vintage piano.
He could see her scars, swollen and pink. Like a branding from her captors, showing him she was no longer his.
He could see her crouched over her fathers body, weeping silently as not to attract unwanted attention just as she'd been instructed.
He could see her bite her lip as her mind attempted to remember the last time she had sung that particular song.
He could feel her arms wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him as she mumbled nonsense about him being her safe place.
He could feel her regret for staying with him, someone who couldn't handle their own problems let alone hers.
He could feel her pain and anguish when she reminisced about her losses, her brother, her mother, her father and possibly her sister as well as the family she'd made at the prison
He could smell her, a lingering scent of vanilla and strawberries even when she wasn't there, it followed him to remind him of her.
He could smell the corpse of her mother, that he'd witnessed attack her and frighten the only one who ran for her.
He could smell the wood of the piano she had played, memorising as she was he did notice her surroundings also.
He couldn't hear her mumble his name in her sleep, smiling as she did so.
He couldn't hear her thank God for giving her him, allowing her to break the barriers he'd built around himself.
He couldn't hear her mutter that the love song was for him, before singing with her whole heart in it.
He couldn't see her cowering from her torturers, gazing out the window hoping he'd arrive for her.
He couldn't see her, watching him as her mother attacked her to see if he'd rescue her.
He couldn't see the love her eyes held, waiting for him to show her a sign of his.
He couldn't feel her iron hard grip on him, because she had gotten weak and couldn't muster much strength.
He couldn't feel her admiring gaze, while he killed the reason she had nightmares.
He couldn't feel her pride that he could've saved anyone but chose her.
He couldn't smell her perfume, that she'd applied to impress him instead of disgust.
He couldn't smell death off of her, she realized he only cared about the good qualities she had.
He couldn't smell the musty piano while she played, he'd only focused on her and the passion her voice held.
He could show her how he felt.
He could show her the effect she had on him.
He could should her the love she needed.
But he didn't have her.
He didn't reach her on time.
He didn't think she was alive.
