_A/N_
Sorry this is so long… but it was hard for me to find what felt like a natural "stopping point"
Also… TRIGGER WARNING.
Self harm, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse.
Please R&R…It's vain, but it keeps me going.
"So" I say leaning into Daryl "If a priest screams in the woods and there is no us to hear him, does he get eaten by walkers"
It's meant as a joke, sorta. Daryl just smiles and shakes his head at me.
He seems to appreciate my unmerciful sense of humor. Which is good, since I cannot say the same for some of the others.
Daryl and Rick were the ones to help him out, by killing the walkers that were pawing at him like a cat does a stringy toy.
I stood back, waiting, gun in hand, just in case this was a trick.
We all saw the collar when he clambered down from the bolder.
Was this guy wearing a fucking suit? Why keep the collar? And who wears a black suit in Georgia in the summer? Maybe it's appropriate considering the whole world was a 24/7 funeral now.
"Who the hell wears a suit to the end of the world" Tara asks me.
"A priest I guess" I shrug.
Rick asks him the same three questions he asked me, and when his answer is "none", all I can think is that this guy is either lying, or totally useless.
Either way, we should have let the walkers eat him…
He turns out to be marginally less useless than I originally thought when he tells us he has a church for us to shelter in.
Even pews sound comfortable at this point.
Along the way Gabriel, that's his name, makes a bad joke about stealing our squirrels.
No one laughs.
But I feel a firm hand press my waist, and I look to see Daryl on my left side.
"Even your joke was better than that one" Daryl smiles at me as we continue walking.
Daryl and I have settled into an easy relationship.
We hunt together, eat together and occasionally do a run together.
He even talks now…sometimes.
It works for us because somehow we have managed to learn each other's moods pretty quickly.
Perhaps it's all the time spent in the woods in silence.
Hunting requires you to be quiet and learn to read your hunting partner's body language and mannerisms in order to be successful.
This is something Daryl reminds me of whenever I start to talk too much.
So while we do spend a fair amount of time together, he can usually tell when I want to be left alone, and vice versa.
I SWEAR that there is a certain TONE that his customary "Hmmm" gets when he is grumpy.
Somehow I have managed to identify and recognize it.
"No one touches your squirrel right?" I say back
"At least not in a long time" he winks at me.
Damnit I hate it when he does that.
Daryl's flirting is overly subtle, yet infuriatingly effective.
He seems to have this system…Say something flirtatious in his ridiculously sexy voice, smile, look smoking hot, then walk away while I blush and gawk like an awkward schoolgirl.
Fucker
The church is close by, so it takes us almost no time at all to get there.
But when we do…it gives me the creeps.
It looks just too ideal, too face, too perfect to bring anything good.
Nothing in the world is this perfect anymore, and I can't help but wonder how this guy has managed to stay alive this long, keep his church spic and span and, he says, never kill anything or anyone.
Old world churches like this always give me bad vibes and I can't help how it stops me in my tracks. I don't know what it is that has be on edge, perhaps it's too may horror movies from before, but I just don't want to go in there.
"What's wrong?" Daryl asks me
"I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about this place. Why does it look unchanged?"
"yeah" he says giving it a more critical look "But for now it's the safest option we got."
He squeezes my shoulder and walks on.
Inside Gabriel treats us to a can each of our choice, I go all out and opt for spinach.
Oh what I wouldn't give for a cheeseburger!
Gabriel is explaining to Rick how he came to have all the canned food, as I watch him I notice how his eyes dart about, the slight wobble of his head when he talks, how he never seems to know what to do with his hands and that annoyingly high blink rate.
He looks like a frigging squirrel trying not to give away the location of his nuts.
"I'm going to look for game" I say handing my can of spinach to Daryl who is sitting next to me.
He just looks at me, confusion in his eyes, mouth over full of baked beans.
I've only walked about ten minutes from the church when I hear a noise behind me, I turn, my bow already drawn.
"I surrender" Daryl says
"You know if you keep sneaking up on me like that, one day I am going to shoot you"
"Find anything out here?"
"No, but there is a small stream that might have some frogs in it."
"You know there aint gonna be no game out here right?"
"Yeah."
"So what's your deal with the church?"
"It's a long story" I say
"Well it aint like I got someplace t'be"
I turn and walk back towards the stream without saying a word…I am picking up on Daryl's bad habits.
He is trying, trying to be concerned and involved. Like I have been trying to get him to be.
And here I am shutting him down…
"My mom was a single parent, so she worked a lot at a shitty cashier job at the local mom n pop pharmacy. We lived with my grandparents. It was the only way we could make it. And for that I will always be grateful to them."
I stop and turn to look at him
"But not a damned thing else." When I say it I see him visibly tense every muscle.
"What did they do?" he asks
I turn back around, I never have been able to talk about this while looking someone in the eye.
"They were very religious. In that pretentious old south way, you know. Go to church on Sunday, Christmas and Easter. Then be completely fucked up in private."
"Yeah I think I know tha' type. Did they hit ya'?"
"No, though given a choice I think I would have preferred that. No, they never laid a finger on me. They preferred to tell me I was ugly, stupid, fat, worthless…you know all those sweet pet names grandparents have for their grand kids. But never when mom was around. And she had so much on her plate that I never said anything."
The song goes "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."
I am living proof that that is bullshit.
Words continue to hurt far longer than it takes a bone to heal.
"Anyway, I was a miserable kid. But to everyone else, we looked like this model family. Bible Study on Monday, church on Sunday, and a hearty helping of hypocrisy every damned day. My grandmother was a "pillar" of the congregation. And him too."
We have reached the creek at this point, and I sit down to take off my shoes and roll up my pant legs.
"First time I tried to end it I was eight, and then again at fourteen, seventeen and twenty two. Every time they would come to the hospital and play like they gave a damn for the doctors. Then start in saying the same old' shit that made me want to do that in the first place. Then when mom was at work they would bring in the pastor to pray to make me better. Like it was all my fault, and it wasn't."
I say defensively.
I look up to see Daryl sitting with his head resting on his bow, staring at me like he has never seen me before.
"I believe ya'" he tells me with the saddest tone.
"I stopped going to church with them. Since everyone there knew. You see, they liked to tell people about their poor depressed, sick, crazy granddaughter who they were kind enough to put up with and care for. One day I had enough of it and screamed at them, asking how their "lord" would feel about how they behaved? They pulled out the tired "respect your father and mother, spare the rod" crap. Then the next thing I know, the pastor came by with a special invitation for me to go to church. I thought maybe, just maybe he cared and noticed I hadn't been coming. So I went"
Daryl has put down his bow and has come to stand next to me holding out my game bag to receive the frog I just caught.
"What happened?"
"Without my mother's approval, my grandparents had paid the pastor to get me in the church. Then he brought me up on stage in front of the whole congregation and asked them to pray to remove the demon I had inside me. He told them everything, some of whom where total strangers. All the while my grandparents where in the audience…smiling. And the pastor and everyone else was there thinking they were these great, amazing loving people. And they weren't."
Daryl just puts an arm around my shoulders as I stare downstream.
"With all the screaming, yelling and hateful things they would say, I think they were the ones that had a demon, not me"
"We all have demons Amber. See" he says showing me a demon tattooed on the inside of his upper arm "I prefer to carry mine with me."
Its looks almost more like a gothic angel, delicate yet menacing. And I wonder what the other ones look like
"Can I see the other ones?"
"Uhhh" He says, and I can tell by the way his body has become strung tighter than my bow, that it's a touchy subject…and I think I know why.
"I don't really show many people my back"
"Why?"
"Well" he says as he begins to chew his thumb
"They beat you"
When his eyes meet mine, they are wide and wild, the look of a frightened child. And I have to resist the urge to hug him.
"Only dad. How did you know?"
"You flinch when people touch you." I tell him, embarrassed that he will know how closely I have been watching him.
"Its pretty bad" is all he says.
I know his secret, it seems only fair to show him mine. So I unbutton my shirt, with its long cotton sleeves and high neck, that if anyone asks I say I use to protect me from the sun.
His eyes go wide with confusion, until he lays eyes on the skin of my arms and chest.
I know how repulsive my skin can be, even I hate seeing it. But I have my standard go to deflection joke
"I know I look like a damned zebra" I laugh nervously as Daryl continues to stare at my scared skin.
My grandmother had said "only a person that's possessed of a demon would take a razor blade to their own skin. It's a sin, the bible says so."
If that was true I was going straight to hell.
Sprouting up all across the olive tones of my skin where lines of white and pinkish-brown scars. Somewhere raised higher than the rest of my skin, others were more like etched lines on a landscape.
Not one was more than an inch apart, most were less than that, and here and there was a perfect pale moon of a scar, compliments of a cigarette butt.
"We all have scars too Daryl" I say, reaching out to hold his hand.
Daryl doesn't say anything, which I am grateful for, I don't cry in front of people… and if tuff as nails Daryl Dixon saw me cry…I would die of mortification.
Instead he runs the callused palm of his hand down the back of my arm and ghosts his fingertips across the inside of my elbow.
I shutter inwardly at how delicate his touch is, and I hope he doesn't see it.
Once his fingers leave the underside of my wrist they move to his own chest and he removes his vest and shirt.
He clenches the shed clothes so tight in his fist that his knuckles turn white.
To comfort him, I rest one hand on his wrist and press my other hand, open against his chest.
He is breathing heavy, in deep labored breaths, his back haunched, head hanging in, what I know is shame, and my heart wants to explode for him.
"Hey" I whisper, and he raises his head to look at me, with those same wide boyish eyes. "It's just me. It's ok"
He takes a deep breath, stands up straight, and turns.
When I see the scars crisscrossing his back, I am flooded with pity and anger.
Daryl may annoy the hell outta me at times, but not even as an adult should injuries like that be endure.
And certainly not as a child at the hands of someone that is supposed to love you.
I feel like if I just can touch them, maybe somehow it will sooth away the hurt I know must linger there.
His scars are raised even higher than mine, but the skin around them seems to be as soft as a babies.
"They are beautiful" I say as I trace the lanes across this back.
"I had a buddy who was an artist"
Oh right the angels…
"Those are beautiful too" the words slip out and I hear a slight growl coming from Daryl's throat.
The sound makes my stomach flip, and before I even know I am doing it, I am leaning in intending to press a kiss to a scar.
"DARYL! AMBER! WE'RE GOING ON A RUN!"
Fucking Rick!
Daryl and I jump apart, like kids caught breaking the rules. He throws on his clothes and I do likewise.
We must look ridiculous.
But when I snap the last button closed on my shirt, I give him a small crooked smile, and he returns it.
There is unspoken understanding in it…but I am not sure what the understanding is of.
"Over here Rick" he calls
Rick comes sauntering around a tree
"Find any fish?"
"This is Georgia. We got Frogs" Daryl responds.
"Great! Maybe we can find some escargot to go with it at the food bank. C'mon, someone needs to watch over Father Gabriel"
Daryl looks and me and says two words before he sprints off, out of the water and back after Rick
"Not it"
Ass
Now I want to shoot him as much, if not more, than I do Rick.
Jesus…Thank god for Rick. I was about to do something massively STUPID!
What the HELL were you thinking Amber? Almost coming on to Daryl Dixon!
That would have been an unmitigated disaster!
Daryl may be a redneck from way back, but that guy had to be used to hot country girls that looked like the Daisy Duke version of Jessica Simpson, coming on to him.
That had to be his type.
Or hot biker babes with big boobs, long legs and covered in leather, to ride on his bike with him.
I had never even been on a bike.
Daryl Dixon could do way better than me. Not a short fat chick, with scared up skin, fuzzy hair and a surly attitude.
So I should be thankful that Rick showed up before I could screw it all up.
Then Daryl would try, and fail, to let me down easy, and things would probably get weird between us.
And I didn't want that.
To avoid that, I would babysit Father Gabriel without complaining.
I took my eyes of him for one damned minute, one minute and this guy goes and gets himself cornered by a walker.
Rick doesn't say it, but I can tell he is mad, and me? Well I just wish I had volunteered to go with Carol to get water. But I get the idea that she and Daryl need some time to talk.
Instead I got stuck watching a guy in a tight collar flail around in a batch of walker stew while relying on god to save him.
Unfortunately for him, all he has is us.
It's my own fault I know. I have been in a silent panic all day, since the near miss with Daryl.
I have a bad feeling about this guy, so maybe it's just a subconscious excuse to try to get him dead.
But Rick and the others being far better people than I, are quick to rescue him.
Personally I think we have him to blame for Bob almost getting bit.
The walk back to the church is quiet, and gives me time to think. Of course it seems that we always have time to think now.
There was a time when I would have killed for a quiet walk, now I just might have to kill to finish it.
It seems like forever long ago when I had essays to grade, lectures to give, places to go, money to spend.
Now, canned peaches are worth more than my whole college education.
That's worth nothing now.
A year ago I had a Lexus, nice clothes, friends, and a dog.
Now I have no car, none of my old friends and no dog.
Today I have three pair of pants, five shirts, two pair of shoes and seven pairs of underwear.
Luxury.
I wonder if any of my colleagues made it out alive?
Janice, the art history teacher, who taught me how to knit.
Dean Anderson, who was always trying to hide his drinking problem. Even though we all knew and didn't care.
Gillian, the very severe "Woman's study" teacher who likes to teach the girls to be independent, then went home to a husband who she knew was cheating on her. So much for feminism.
And James…James the Economics teacher, who I had gone out on three dates with.
We had another one planned before all the shit hit the fan.
Mark's was the restaurant we were going to go to that night, it was swanky and not too far from where either of us lived in the Montrose area of Houston.
I was going to ask him to stay the night.
He had black wavy hair, dark brown eyes and a disarming smile. He and I could talk for hours about everything and nothing, he was eternally wearing a suit, even away from work.
He looked every bit the professor that he was.
The students liked him because he made economics fun. How, I don't know.
But they liked him, and at faculty functions he was always the one to crack a joke, and at Christmas parties he was the MC who had all the lame one liners.
I had admired him from afar for the first two years I worked at the university, then only a few months before the world ended I ran into him at the supermarket.
I remember the heat blooming to my face when I saw him, and hoped he wouldn't judge me for the cinnamon toasted crunch cereal in my cart.
"Hi Amber! I didn't know you lived around here."
"Ummm yeah. Just a few blocks over."
"You are always so quiet that I don't really know much about you"
"There isn't much to know. You know us history professors, always living in the past."
"I bet there is more to you than that. You should come over some night and I will make us dinner."
That turned out to be a few days later, and I can still remember how neat and tidy his house was.
Pristine white carpet, everything dusted and in its place.
Whereas my house was a giant tangle of books, dog toys and laundry.
"I hope you don't mind, I am a vegetarian, so I made veggie lasagna."
It makes me smile now, despite the heat, thinking about how different he and Daryl are.
James…professor of economics, vegetarian, confident, talkative, sharp dresser with a model family. Who's biggest concern when I knew him was how long it would take him to get tenure.
And Daryl, squirrel eating, trepidatious, introverted, self admitted red neck, who seems to be boycotting sleeves and showers, and comes from a more jacked up family than mine.
Daryl's biggest concern…if I had to guess, besides just staying alive, was to find Beth.
Two men, who were so different, that if they ever were to meet would likely hate each other.
It's amazing how a change in circumstances can change your taste in men.
Alive was the biggest thing men had going for them now.
Not that Daryl didn't have plenty to recommend himself.
He could be funny, without even trying. And understanding, on a deeper level than most gave him credit for. And no one would ever doubt that he was loyal, caring and Brave.
And out of my league.
At least with James, while he was undeniably as handsome, if not more so, than Daryl. He and I had in common the fact that we were both nerdy, bookish teachers.
We related to each other.
I get the feeling that there are a thousand things that Daryl has experienced that I would have no way to relate to.
Screw it I think I will just hook up with Tara.
Even though I know it isn't going to happen.
Stupid Daryl Dixon and his amazing arms….
Stupid Hormones….
Stupid Zombies…
Stupid….
"We got water" Daryl says sneaking up on me from nowhere. And showing me his two gallons of water.
"Jesus Daryl you scared me!"
"I been here for the last five minutes"
"Really?"
"Yeah I was talking to Rick, didn't you hear me?"
"No…I was…thinking"
"Yeah, you looked like it."
"Hmmmm" I say as I schlep the bag of cans higher on my shoulder.
"Family?" he asks.
Why the hell does he only want to talk when I don't?
"No, just… thinking about a … friend"
"Boyfriend?"
"Yeah I guess so"
"Hmmmm"
I feel like I should clarify, but I am not sure why.
Daryl has never expressed any interest in me, to where I should feel like I have to tell him it wasn't serious.
So I ignore the feeling and change the subject.
"So do you think it was Gabriel watching in the woods the other night?"
"Nah, he aint brave enough to venture out in tha' dark. But it was someone…just gotta keep on our toes."
"If you want I can take watch with you at night, have an extra set of eyes"
"Might be a good idea. So did ya find anything good at tha' food bank?"
I rummage around in my bag and show him
"Yams! And even some brown sugar! It'll be like thanksgiving!" I smile.
"Never had thanksgiving before"
"Well this is a sad excuse for one, but it's a start. Maybe in a few more months we will find some cans of cranberry sauce."
"That sounds revoltin'"
"Says the man who eats pickled pig's feet."
"That's right, a red necks gotta have his standards."
I just laugh, he may not be a professor, or even have sleeves for that matter, but he makes me laugh in the middle of the chaos that is the world now.
Back at the church, we all find a place to settle down and feast on our looted canned goods.
Apparently I am not the only one that things the yams remind me of thanksgiving, as I hear Maggie, Michonne and Carl all say something about it.
"Well" I say, as I dollop out some onto Rick's plate "We are family now"
"Yes we are" says rick "and a damned fine one too." As he kisses Judith's head.
"I can take her and feed her if you want" I offer
Rick knows I like playing with Judith, so he hands her over and I leave the serving line to feed her.
Living on canned food is great… for Judith.
Yams and creamed corn are even more of a feast for her than us.
Daryl scuffs his way over to me and Judith.
"Well at least li'l asskicker likes the yams. Can't be all bad"
"Your confidence in my cooking is overwhelming"
"Does this really count as cooking?"
He has got me on that one.
"Well, there was fire involved"
"Hmmm"
"So did you and Carol talk?" I would have had to be blind to not see there was some sort of tension between him and her.
"Yeah, we're just gonna start over"
"Were you two… Involved before"
Daryl just looks at me like I asked him if he likes wearing woman's thongs
"Corse not. It's just a long story."
"Oh, well, if you want to talk about it."
"Nah, not really. She doesn't want to either…so I think its best if we all just let it lie"
"I get that. We all have things we've seen or done that we just want to forget." Lord knows I do.
"Actually the things I regret are from before" he says stoically.
"I find that hard to believe." I say
"Believe it, I wasn't a good person. You wouldn't have liked me at all" he mumbles
I dislike hearing him talk like that, self deprecating is something I am sure he is used to doing. But I won't have it; I want him to see what a good person he is.
I hand him Judith and he takes her without a word, I stand, and I can see in his eyes that he thinks I am going to walk away from him because of what he has said.
Instead I hand him the yams to feed Judith and take a seat next to him.
As he spoons her orange mush, I just look at him.
All my earlier assessments of him remain the same, expounded by the sight of this dirty, shy, hesitant, amazing man coddling the infant Judith.
"I don't believe that"
"Oh believe me…"
"No…I guess I should have said "I don't believe in that". You see, you have always been the person you are now. Deep down."
Daryl looks at me like I am speaking Zulu.
"What I mean is. Sure, before you may have been different and done bad things. But when horrible things happen, that's when the true nature of a person comes out. You and I both know that there are people out there that once were moral, upright, law- abiding preschool teachers, or accountants or doctors, that are now little better than animals. But you." I say pressing a finger to the centre of his chest.
"You faced this … shit storm, and have come out a better person. Brave, loyal, honest, trustworthy, valuable and cared for. No one is going to miss those "good people" that are anything but now. But all of us would be a mess if we lost you. So no…What you were like before doesn't matter anymore. Only who you are now…and that Daryl Dixon is pretty awesome."
Daryl raises his eyes to me, and the emotion in them is so raw that it feels like its bleeding into the very air around us.
I want to hug him, comfort him, coax out the tears I can see he is fighting back. But Judith coos and the moment is passed.
"See, even Judith agrees with me."
"We get to start over." Daryl says
"Exactly"
Then I hear a tapping of a Tin Cup, and Abraham asking us to go with him to Washington.
I have my doubts about this whole thing, but it falls to Rick to make the decision, and whether it's true or not, whether we can be saved or cured or not,
Abraham, Rosita and Eugene are trusted by Rick and the others, so I will trust them too.
There is also safety in numbers … and even three more can make a difference.
We stick together…Like family.
"Here, hold l'il asskicker. "
"Wha…Where are you going?" I ask as Daryl hands me the child. And walks away
"I'll be right back. Stay here"
But he doesn't.
Neither does Bob or Carol.
And by 11pm I am frantic and nearly beyond being reasoned with as I get sick of waiting and stalk over to the door with a rifle, two 16mm, my bow and two extra mags.
Fuck this I am going to look for them.
"Whoa whoa whoa… you can't go out there in the dark" Glen says hopping between me and the door.
"Watch me." I say sidestepping him
"Amber, stop"
Fucking Rick
"Going out there now is too risky. I know you want to look for them, I do too. But if we go out there blind, more of us are going to be picked off. We need light to see them coming."
"Maybe they are just hurt or lost or something"
I know it's a weak excuse, but I am desperate to believe it's only something minor and not that we are being hunted.
"Three of us in one night?" he gives me a look that says it all "No way. You know it's more than that. And I think we need to keep Gabriel close."
"Why?" Asks Maggie" Do you think he has something to do with it?"
"All I know is this all happened since we met up with him. And, well, Carl found something."
"What?" I ask.
"Someone carved the words "You'll Burn for This" out back on the church."
"And you didn't think we needed to know that?!" I growl.
"What's done is done. We just have to wait until morning to move forward. No good will come from arguing"
Glen is always the voice of reason, the peacekeeper, and the level headed one. But right now I want to pistol whip him.
"Hey there is someone in the yard!"
"It's Bob!"
I'm washed over with relief to have even one of them back…but sick that its only Bob and not Carol and Daryl also.
Sasha is the first one out the door, the rest of us are hot on her heels. And it's a damned good thing too, because there are a handful of walkers to be dispatched outside the church walls.
I help Sasha drag him inside, and only after the commotion outside dies down and the doors are barred again, do I notice that his leg is missing.
But it's no walker would, not a savage mess of tern flesh & tendon.
It's bandaged, and cauterized. And we all know what that means.
Rick was right… we should have gone back to Terminus and killed them.
We lay him down in the rectory, and with labored breathing, Bob tells what we already know.
It's the "Termites".
What we didn't know was about the walker bite he received at the food bank…the one he said didn't happen, the one I can now freely blame Father Gabriel for.
The last thing he says, when asked, is that Carol & Daryl were not there, after that we all leave him with Sasha.
"We know they are watching right? So we need it to look like only the weakest are here. They haven't been doing this as long as we have. They have relied on tricks to lure people to them. So they will be waiting out there for us to do what we do and take the fight to them. Waiting like cowards in the dark, and that's how we will get them" Rick tells us.
It's a good plan, and it will work.
"I am going with you" comes from Sasha.
"You should stay here with Bob" Tyreese tells her.
Poor Sasha, I cannot imagine her pain right now. But I agree with her brother, there will always be more killing in this world. But love and life are rare.
Every second of those should be grabbed up with un-abandoned greed. For some reason she must not see it this way.
It's a sad reality that she probably only will after he is gone.
So she comes with us as we walk away from the church, where rick has left his children with Gabriel.
Under different circumstances this would worry me, but we are only going a short distance into the woods to wait for the right time.
And Carl has three handguns, he's a good shot and we all know he would never let anything happen to Judith.
Even if that meant killing a priest.
Waiting just inside the tree line I can hear my heartbeat in my head, but the thing that bothers me is that it is steady and even.
We are about to kill six people…and my blood pressure hasn't even risen.
For all the ways I told Daryl he has become a better person, I am worried that I am becoming a worse one.
The church is too creaky for us all to get in quietly, so we left a few of the pew windows open…from there Tara and I take out the two men by the rectory door, then come around to the entrance to cover our rear, Tara goes in and I keep an eye on the forest.
It only takes a minute to realize no one else is coming, so I turn to watch the scene unfold inside the church.
"But you will cross paths with someone, and you, you would do this to anyone." Rick tells the man.
And they would, in a horrible way, they are even worse than the walkers.
Walkers are the walking dead, they don't think, or plan or scheme. They eat people because the people they were are dead and gone, only the shell remains. Driven by some form of horrible disease to do what they do…they aren't that way because they want to be, because they intended on it.
But these people are.
There is no shortage of animals to hunt and kill, but still they hunt humans.
"You don't know what it's like to be hungry" he pleads with Rick.
Which is a lie, we all have known hunger, fear and the infliction of pain.
But we have not resorted to cannibalism, to the eating of human flesh in front of its original owner.
And hunger is not what drove them to keep and torture that man at terminus…that was motivated by pure, hateful evil.
They are disgusting, and they must be stopped.
So when Rick reached for the red handled machete, I know what's coming.
Its then that my heart begins to race…and I look away as the killing starts.
"I can't leave without them" I tell Tara
"What if they don't come back?"
"They will."
"Just, do me a favor and listen to Rick ok?"
"I will, besides, you and I have a date in a year" I say smiling
"Ten months" she says hitting me in the arm
"Owww… "I whine "you're such a dyke"
She just laughs with me.
"I promise we will catch up as soon as we can. Once Daryl and Carol are back we will be on the road immediately"
We hug before she gets in the van.
Glen tells me not to do anything crazy and to watch after Tyreese, Maggie just gives me her best smile and says to take care.
Abraham and Rosita I think are still mad that I changed my mind about going with them.
And Eugene…well Eugene is Eugene.
Once they are gone, there is nothing to do but wait. Sasha stays with Bob until the end…and I find myself wishing I had known him better.
As odd as it may sound in a world where there is more heartache than happiness, I wish it because I would like to share her grief at his death.
But I cannot.
And with as angry as she is, I don't know if she would want me too.
Michonne & Gabriel sit on the front steps while I rest on the ground, trying to calm my nerves…it's been two days, and Rick is getting antsy, though he hasn't said it, I feel it.
I'm past being antsy to being outright worried.
They should have been back by now.
My stomach is in knots and I am too distracting with trying to keep my food down to hear the bushes rustle.
Daryl…
Like a shot I am across the lawn and squeezing him tight.
"Oh my god I was so worried!" I say pulling back for a split second to look at him.
"I'm fine girl"
Looking around I see that while two have returned… it's not the same two that left.
"Where is Carol?"