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14: Truth-Telling

When I woke up the next day sun was pouring through the living room window. I must have slept in late; I rolled over and walked upstairs to my room. There was no sign that anyone slept there last night. I changed into my work clothes and began to make my way down to the gate to clear another tree before I realized Daryl still had my keys. Instead I went over to see if Hershel needed help with anything.

"How's the field working out?"

"It's been hard getting used to it, but it's better than just sitting around, so I can't complain." I nodded. "You don't happen to have any tarps to cover the ground with when winter comes, do you?"

"I think I have some in the shed, actually I know I do. Tarps are too useful to not grab. Do you think maybe that would be a good time to throw the compost on?"

"I was thinking that, give the soil the whole winter to get enriched." I nodded and helped him with a few things before I made my way back into the house.

"You didn't go hunting today?" Carl asked from his book.

"Slept in too late. Let that be a lesson to you." I smiled at him as he looked up.

"I think that's enough for today, why don't you spend some time with Annie this afternoon? I have to talk to Dad." Lori got up and patted me on the shoulder with a smile before leaving the room.

"Well, Bud, what would you like to do today?"

"Do we need more firewood?"

"Yeah, but I don't have the keys just yet. When Daryl gets back we can do that."

"You gave him your keys? You never give anyone your keys."

"I gave you my keys." I poked him.

"That's different." I tousled his hair when he stood up beside me. Then we made our way to the roof for watch duty. We sat for a long time in silence as he practiced stitching on a pillow. When I first told him and Lori to do this he said sewing was for girls. I quickly corrected him by showing him one of the scars I had and saying how stitching skin is different, and the only way to practice for that was with fabric; he would thank me later. He was getting good at it, too. "Why are we friends?" I looked over at him, surprised and conflicted with the question.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"You know what I mean. The other's treat me different. And you're the bravest of all them, it doesn't make sense."

"Why thank you." I smiled at him. "You remember when you all first got here, how no one would talk to me. It was like they were scared of me or something. But you weren't. And then you helped save my life when no one else would. That's grounds enough for friendship." I could tell he wasn't satisfied with the answer, "But the truth is you remind me a lot of my brother."

"Was he young, too?"

"Only four years younger than me, but I try to remember him from when he was your age."

"What happened to him?"

"Oh look, Daryl's back. We can get to work." I hopped up and made my way downstairs, followed by a complaining Carl. Daryl was lugging a big doe up to the house on his own. I reached at it, "Here let me help you."

"I don't need your damn help." He dropped the keys on the ground.

Carl picked them up and handed them to me. Well, that pleasantness was short-lived. Gamble lost. I shrugged it off and we went and got the axes and wheelbarrows and made our way out of the gate. Once we reached the stumps we picked one and began chopping away.

"What happened with you and him? I thought things were good, you were hanging out a lot more." The tree crashed to the ground.

"Back in school, did you ever tell anyone you like-liked them?" I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

"In kindergarten." He leaned on the butt of his ax.

"And what happened?"

"She said I had cooties and ran away." I laughed and he joined me.

We started to cut the trunk into smaller portions, "I think that's what just happened." He stopped and started to laugh again. Not like before, this was a totally different laugh, the likes of which I hadn't heard since before the civilized world went up in flames and the dead began to walk the earth feasting on the living. It was what joy sounded like. "Yes, laugh at my pain."

He calmed himself after a minute, "It's just, how can that happen? You're grown ups."

"You give age too much credit." I hacked once, "I think you'll find that as you get older nothing really changes. People are still the same immature kids they were on the playground."

"But you changed? And I have, too." He chopped a few times.

"What do you mean I've changed?"

"Whenever you tell me stories about before everything, you make yourself sound so shy, and scared."

"And?" I took a few more swings.

"You aren't anymore. And I'm not either." I took a few breaths; the work was starting to get to me.

"I know you aren't." We worked for an hour more in the quite. Had I really changed? I still felt the same. More weighed down by the things I have done. I still had the same thoughts. They were a bit different, everything was a bit different, but I was still the same girl from Louisiana who secretly hated herself. Once we had dismantled the tree we loaded up all the lumber we could and walked back to the house. "I miss marshmallows."

"What?"

"Shelf life of 3ish months, and even then they were stale. One of the first to go." I opened up the gate, "During winter at home we would roast them over the fire, did you ever do that?"

"A couple times."

"I'm glad. There is nothing quite like a slightly charred 'mallow." We dropped off the logs and went back to get the rest. By that time it was getting closer to dinner. "You want to help us make dinner?" I walked into the kitchen after him.

"Okay." And we went to work. Once he got bored Lori had him set the table. Then before you knew it the whole group was sprinkling in and taking their seats, all except for Daryl who came in, grabbed a plate, and then went back outside.

To my surprise Carol sat right beside me. "He'll be like that for a while, but he will warm up eventually," she said softly as she leaned towards my ear. I looked at her, and upon seeing my confused face she let out a little laugh, "Oh come now, I've seen how you two look at each other."

"But you guys…"

"Don't worry about that." More people started sitting down so she started eating, "We'll talk more after dinner." And she wasn't lying. That night she joined me on my perch and we had our first real conversation. She told me about her family, and her daughter. "I think that's why he was with me, because he thought he owed me something. So I told him that the only thing he owed me was being happy, and that I saw how you two were and I wanted that for him."

"Why?" Did she think he looked happy around me? I didn't think so, I thought he looked more annoyed than happy. She knows him better, I guess.

"I had my shot at a family, and even though my husband and I had our differences he was still the man I loved. Besides, I just liked having him around because it was better than being alone." She smiled over at me, "I'd tell you to be good to him, but I know you will."

"You really think he will stop being mad at me?"

"I do. You just gotta keep trying, alright?" She looked at her hands, "Not just for him, for me, too."

"Alright." I looked up at the sky for a while, "Why are you being so nice to me about this?"

I heard her shift in her seat. "You seem understanding enough, so I better just tell you. When you came back that night you got shot. Well, Hershel wanted to help you, but I stopped him. I just thought it would be easier if we didn't have an outsider. And a part of me was jealous with the way Daryl was talking about you."

"Oh."

"But I want to fix it. I think I wanted to fix it then, too. Even when I was just watching you, pale and bloody, stitching yourself up like a ripped shirt and telling Carl jokes and singing. I've never seen anyone like that, so brave. You were so good at hiding your pain; it was like you were more worried about how he was feeling than yourself." There was quiet again, "I wish I was like you."

"You shouldn't." I turned towards her. The truth is most of the time I didn't even want to be me. What was I now? Carl was right, I had changed. I had become an occasional monster. Evil enough to spawn healthy doses of self-loathing, but just nice enough to keep me from pulling the trigger. Did my good really outweigh my bad? And now all of these connections. "I think I'm going to go get some sleep. It was nice talking to you though." I crouched inside, "And don't worry about telling Hershel not to help me, I don't blame you."

That night I barely slept; the ghosts of my misdeeds loomed too closely. There was a comforting thought though, something I clung to desperately, only the people who deserve it, and as painlessly as possible for my prey.