The blood from the knife drips from the tip, staining the ground, the grass below watered with the life of him draining.
Maggie stands upright, firmly planted to the ground, the few strands of hair having escaped from her ponytail now dangling in her face, that now lay sprinkled with red dots having sprayed onto her. The liquid painting her face with a fog that seemed to have encompassed her in its wake.
This day had been one she had had nestled in the back of her mind since the lineup. The pain of that night manifesting in her physically, leaving her curled over and crying. The terror living inside her, and presenting itself in a strength and a plan that had led up to this moment.
She glances down, her round stomach no longer able to be hidden, instead prominently displayed, out in the open, vulnerable to the war around them. But she stays frozen, the body laying in front of her, unable to be reanimated, given the position of its wound. It had only seemed appropriate to take him out, once and for all, to the head, the same way he'd done that night. Relentless, overkill.
The sounds still haunted her at night, her eyes would close, and the screams began. With only the steady calm of a Rhee lulling her back to sleep, enclosed in the protection of his promises, one hand resting steadily on her stomach, the other clutching the watch.
When the war began, there were several who thought she'd eventually sit out when she got to be too big, there were even those that begged for it. But she refused, claiming this was just as much her fight as anyone else's, and waiting like a sitting duck never felt right or anymore safe than being out in the action.
Every casualty on their side felt like a stab to the heart, another wound to tend to while stumbling to the finish line. It was in those moments that only Glenn's words could comfort her, the steady mantra of "We have to keep going," played over and over in her head as she gripped the watch a little tighter in her pocket.
That morning, she's struggled to sit upright in bed, the twinge in her back alerting her to overexertion, demanding she take a day for herself, for the baby, but she'd ignored the signs, instead trudging out of bed, pushing the pain to the back of her mind, as she gently rubbed her stomach, the silent kicks to her hand assuring her that everything would be okay. The worried looks shot her way only forcing her to hold back the truth, that she was crumbling.
But the plan had been set, and the opportunity had presented itself, and she wasn't about to back out now. They'd separated, and looking back, that might have been what had done it. Her only regret that she hadn't seen his eyes upon realizing who had finally gotten to him, the knife buried deep in the back of his head, taking him by surprise, the way he'd done that night.
He'd underestimated her, he wouldn't any longer.
She thought that relief would've flooded her immediately, instead it had frozen her. The pain of the day having finally caught up to her, no longer hidden in the adrenaline.
A weak scream can be heard, hunching her over, her back feeling like it's going to snap in half, as her hand flies to her stomach.
"Maggie," she hears, the voice getting closer, the trampling feet running towards her, the worry present even in the wind of the cadence floating carrying towards her.
A hand reaches out, touching her shoulder, and she doesn't flinch, the touch familiar.
"Are you okay?" He asks, eyes wandering all around until it falls on the body in front of her, and then frantically searches around for others to come, but no one does.
"Glenn," she gets out weakly, glancing up at him. "It's over," she tells him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.
He nods at her, their present nightmare done with until the next one begins.
Guiding her back, weapon at the ready, he's quietly joined by other members, word spreading of Maggie's takedown, a protective circle forms around her.
Glenn grips her hand tightly, refusing to let go, soft assurances whispered into her, the way it was always supposed to be.