Title: Musings of a Woman Alone
Author: thexxit
Rating: G
Category: TWD – Carol and maybe Daryl and the rest
Spoilers: I think only up until Indifference, but to be safe, let's say up to mid-season 4.
Disclaimer: The characters and premise are not mine, but I think you know that.
Archive: Anywhere, please, just let me know and keep my name attached.
Summary – Alone, Carol reflects.
a/n – I don't know why I wrote this, but I think it's because I've been missing Carol lately. I really hope she comes back soon. I love the show, but it's not the same without her. And shame on Daryl for not finding her. Also, I don't know where I got that title. Please excuse any errors, this was written quickly.
There were times in my life when all I wanted was to be alone.
My father was stifling as a child. He ruled his house with an iron fist. Mom was scared of him, my brothers and sisters and I ran and hid when he came home. Though I never saw him actually hit her, I'm now convinced he did beat my mother. His voice was enough to terrorize us kids.
I used to dream of a house of my own. I wanted to live on my own and be free. I used to curse my mother for ever marrying him. I got away from there as soon as I could, but I fell in with another man. Young and stupid and foolishly thinking I was in love, I married the first man who looked at me with a smile and told me I was pretty.
Ed only started hurting me after he'd lost his first job. We were barely getting by at the time. I'd had two miscarriages. He didn't seem particularly interested in children anyway, so he wasn't overly sympathetic or upset. Once he lost his job and bills began collecting, I asked him if he would do something, work at McDonald's or Burger King or anywhere. He got so furious he threw me against the wall and left. That was the first bruise of many.
The doctors and nurses at the clinic gave me pitying glances. How many times can a woman stumble down the stairs? Exactly how was I opening doors that they kept hitting me in the eye? And did I really think I was cut out for heavy lifting if I'd already dislocated my arm twice?
Then I got pregnant. He didn't hit me. I thought we were better. I thought this baby was the answer.
The charm wore off after he lost his second job. Now we had a baby to take care of. I would work nights so Sophia would sleep and not be a bother to Ed. I learned not to say no to anything. If he wanted chicken for dinner, he had it. If he wanted to go out with the boys drinking, no problem. If I was sleeping and he wanted sex, I didn't resist. If he wanted to smack me around, I wouldn't tell, as long as he didn't hurt Sophia.
Those days I longed to be alone too. Nursing my wounds, I imagined a carefree life, living for myself and no one else. Eating when I wanted to eat, sleeping when I wanted to sleep, and if I wanted to run away for a few days I could. There would be no one to stop me.
Maybe it would have been nice before all this. Maybe if I wasn't in constant fear of walkers or unfriendly people.
I've kept my own in this old station wagon. I sleep in it, I keep my meager belongings in it. I've found clothes, food, things for hygiene. I have medicine, but I've been lucky enough not to need it.
I've helped a person or two get along their way. I've not tried to make relationships and I've shied away from anyone looking for one. It took all my strength to walk away from a family with a little boy and a girl and a grandmother to care for, but I gave them what I could, and moved on. I can't take more heartbreak.
I think of them a lot, my pseudo-family. I think of Maggie and Glen and how they found happiness in this dismal place. I think of Hershel, so strong and wise. I think of Beth, Judith and Carl, Lizzie and Mika, and all the other children I care for so dearly. I think of Rick, and his conflicted mind. I don't hold any ill feeling. It wouldn't do any good anyway.
I think of all the people I've grown close to. I think of Tyrese, and I hope he's able to forgive. I wonder if they miss me. I hope they're safe. I hope the illness has run its course or been cured without more casualties. I think of all the people we've lost. I couldn't bear anymore.
I think about Daryl. I know what it was like when he left us. I missed him terribly. I worried about him constantly. It was his decision to leave, however, so I wished him well and filed the memory of our friendship in the back of my mind and went on with life. I truly thought I would never see him again. Daryl is a man of his word and a man with a code of honour that's very rare. He would never betray his brother, no matter what a jerk he was. Maybe we're similar that way.
I wonder how he took the news of my banishment. I hope he won't decide to do something foolish. I want him to put his memory of our friendship and file it away in his mind, too. I want it to be something he can bring out every now and again and remember with fondness. I know I'll always remember him with fondness. I'll always love him. He's the father Sophia deserved. He may be the very best friend I've ever had.
I've decided the cities and urban areas are not safe, so I've stuck to flat ground mostly, away from houses and buildings packed together that could hide any number of dangers. I've not gone very far from the prison, but I think maybe I should. Maybe I need a clean break. Maybe I should head to Florida with the salty water and beaches. I do have a slight fear of being trapped against the ocean with a wave of walkers heading my way. With my luck, I'd have alligators on one side and the undead on the other. Maybe I ought to stay closer to home.
Though I don't really have a home anymore, do I? Home was where my daughter was, but she's gone now. It feels like another life. I hate myself when I avoid thinking of her. I want to save myself the pain, but Sophia deserves to be out in the open. She deserves to be recognized and remembered, especially by me, the one who failed her.
As I sit here in this old farm field, sheltered on one side by my car, a fire roaring in front of me, warming me and one of the cans of beans I found the other day, I think of Daryl. About now we would be having supper, something I most likely cooked. He would be awkward and easy to tease, as usual. He would quietly check that I had enough to eat and that I was indeed eating, like he always does. We'll both pretend not to notice that our feet bumped under the table, or that our hands brushed grabbing for the much sought after pepper shaker. I'll be bold and wink at him and he'll actually blush. I've never been so brazen in my life as I am with him. He gives me that. He makes me feel strong and fearless and self-confident. It's his courage that allows me to do this now, to be on my own.
I hope he's happy, whatever he's doing. I hope he learns to accept compliments from others in the spirit in which they're given. I hope he learns to be easy on himself, and not blame himself for everything bad that happens. I hope he misses me, but I hope it doesn't hurt like it does in my heart. I hope I see him again, but I doubt I ever will.
I hope he finds love, and I hope I'm never around to witness it.
I send up my prayer to a god I don't think I believe in anymore, and dig into my can of baked beans. They're nice and warm and thickly sweet with molasses. I hope right now Daryl is safe, filling his belly with something warm and hearty. I hope he's wishing the same of me.