I was listening to 9 Crimes by Damien Rice and one line really stuck out for me.
If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?
This fic is inspired by that one line. A short piece, focused on Rick's swimming thoughts regarding his daughter's future.
Rick stares down at the child in his arms. It hits home that her birth is truly the death of their lives before.
She's likely one of the first to be born into this world. One of the first to have no recollection of what life was like before. She won't understand why everyone is so mournful of 'the days back then' because this – this life – will be all she'll ever have known. She hasn't lost what the others have. She won't understand it's weight. And perhaps, it's better that way. Perhaps it's better that she hasn't come from a better way of life. You can't miss what you've never had.
She'll never know true innocence.
She'll never know real safety.
She'll never leave out milk and cookies for Santa. She'll never watch Disney movies and dress up like a Princess. She'll never be nervous about her first day of school, and making new friends. She'll never learn to ride a bike…
Instead she'll be taught how to skin an animal. How to hold a gun. Where to aim.
The first (and perhaps only) words she'll learn to read and write will be "Help,""Danger," "Dead," "Alive." Because why bother with anything arbitrary like the names of zoo animals? Hell, she may never even know learn what an elephant is.
She won't learn about nutrition or why eating too many sweets makes you sick. Instead, she'll tear desperately into anything that they're able to find and be grateful for it.
She'll never know true innocence.
What she will know hunger… fear… survival. She'll likely kill before she grows her adult teeth. And she won't question it. She'll have been raised to face it. She'll not feel the remorse that the others did the first time.
One day she'll go out hunting with Carl. They'll spot a rabbit. For a moment, Carl won't be a hunter, he'll be a big brother. He'll point it out to her with a smile. She'll gasp and she'll stare and she'll ask him to kill it. He'll look at her, silently mourning the childhood she was never allowed. She'll turn to him and ask;
"If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?"
She won't see the walkers as these unnatural things that shouldn't exist. She'll just understand that they're there – the next stage of life… death… She'll have grown up with the smell of blood and rotten flesh forever filling her nostrils. It won't repulse her, it won't frighten her. She'll just accept it.
She'll never know what Lori looked like. She'll never even see photos of her. She'll just have to take her family's word for it that she looks just like her. She'll be told her mother loved her so much that she died to give her life. That sort of sacrifice she'll understand, for none of them have much else but their lives to give.
She'll never trust any survivors that they may come across. She'll shoot first and ask questions later. She won't believe in a world where people – strangers – once lived happily amongst each other.
She won't live with the constant hope that soon it will end, soon it will go back to how it was. She won't know any other life, she won't long for a world full of people worried about mortgages and school grades and electricity prices skyrocketing. It'll all just be a story to her, one a little too far-fetched for her to actually believe.
One day someone will realise that yet again her birthday has come and gone. They'll make a joke about blowing up a few balloons for her. Her brow with crinkle in confusion and she'll ask what a balloon is. She won't understand why her question will make everyone so sad. She won't understand the sympathy in their eyes.
She'll learn to take care of her own. She'll learn to watch her back. She'll learn to watch and listen and smell for danger. She'll run and hide and fight all her life, however long or short it might be. She'll be drenched in blood. She'll never know why every single day she breaks Rick's heart.
Rick stares down at the child in his arms. It hits home that her birth is truly the death of innocence.
Judith.
Just a very short fic. Wanted to keep it simple, you know? Anyways I hope you liked it! Any feedback would be lovely. :)
Thanks for reading!