She felt like one of them. The walkers. Trudging down the road. With the others, but not with them. She let them take care of her, but she didn't really care if they did or not.
It felt like they'd been on the road for years, but it had only been a few days. She was sure she knew where they were headed, but she had no interest in it. This world was like a dream she had just woken up from and was slowly forgetting, piece by blurry piece.
Glenn was always by her side, but it wasn't him she wanted. There was some kind of numb guilt about this, but she couldn't make herself care enough to respond to his pleas for her sanity. She simply drifted, body and mind. What in the world had happened? Something terrible. It was right there, pushed deep into a corner of her mind; hidden but not very well. She kept it there, held it at bay. She wasn't ready to open that door yet. She felt she might never be.
Rick was in front of her. He always was. She felt the others drift around her like loud ghosts. She heard their voices, but nothing registered. She envied their peace of mind. She knew what they were all thinking. Thank God it wasn't my loved one. No, it wasn't. Beth was hers. Her grief to carry forever and ever and ever.
Unless she just shut it down. Walked like an animal across the earth, no mind for anything but her next breath. The loneliness and solitude behind this thought was so enticing; yet at times, it could unleash that torrent behind her eyes. Make her throat choke up, make her want to beg for mercy from someone, anyone. She cut it off, stared at the ground in front of her feet, let Glenn's hand on her arm guide her to wherever. There was nothing.
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She heard him whispering about her at night. He had laid her down just outside their circle, pillowing her head gently on an old jacket of some sort. She stared out into the trees, waiting patiently for the monsters to come. She knew he thought she wasn't listening, assumed her catatonic state would shield his voice. But she heard him. She didn't care, but she heard.
"We have to do something. I don't know what's wrong with her. I mean…I know what's wrong. But she can't go on like this."
Rick's rough grumble: "She'll snap out of it. She's gonna have to. Until then, she's still up and moving everyday. As long as she's keeping up with us, I'm not worried."
Glenn, more vehemently, but still trying to whisper in the dark: "Well, I'm worried. We've been lucky so far. There haven't been any herds. Or for God's sake, any other people. But how long is that going to last? She needs to be able to take care of herself. I can only do so much in that situation. I can't lose her."
His voice was starting to break. It almost moved her. But she didn't want to be moved by anyone. It was too comfortable here in the unfeeling void.
She heard a noise from amongst the trees, directly in front of her. The others were still talking, but this soft tread of footsteps on leaves was more apt to draw her attention. If it were a walker, would she get up? Would her subconscious animal self take control? She listened more intently and decided she would continue to lie there like a stone until she found out. The footsteps moved closer, and now she could tell it was no walker. She was still attuned to the sounds of this new world. The idea of a living person alerted her slightly more. Enough to shift her gaze around and try to find the source.
There he was, his sullen face drawing light from the small campfire as he entered the clearing. The only other person who seemed as broken as she. Of course, he was used to all of this. He may not be over it, but he could live with it. He pulled the strap of his bow over his head, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked consumed with anger. She wished she could feel angry. Anger meant the possibility of change. She held his gaze purposefully, willing him to see something behind her eyes.