After the transfusion, Herschel seemed to have noticed my inability to turn my head whenever I attempted to glance at Lori, whose hand was firmly placed on my shoulder.

I'd already gotten scolded about my hands; It wasn't difficult to notice the fresh blood on my palms after the initial panic of helping Carl. Apparently digging your fingernails into barely scabbed wounds makes them bleed again.

"Come out here for a moment." Hershel motioned at me after he'd finished removing the— thing from my arm.

I rolled my shoulder, trying not to shiver, and pushed out all thoughts about what had been inside my arm. Carl got what he needs from me, that's what's important.

My stomach rolled a little as I stood up; slower than I should have for someone who just gave as much blood as I did, and this sharp old man definitely noticed the grimace I tried so hard to disguise.

I pat Rick on the shoulder and squeezed Lori's hand before I followed the doc out of the room.

Herschel had me follow him into the dining room and bandaged up my hands before taking a look at my neck.

"Turn your head for me" Hershel's calloused fingers reached for my neck and I jerked back.

He put his hands up much the same way Rick does when showing he doesn't mean any harm. Hershel reminds me a little of Dale in that regard.

I ducked my head, clearing my throat and looked back up stiffly; allowing Hershel to touch my neck. No matter how hard I tried though, I couldn't stop myself from trying to lean away. Having a stranger's hands on —or anywhere near— my neck is disconcerting to say the least. Doctor or not.

Hershel motioned for me to turn my head, feeling around my spine and pressing on the sore muscles. I did turn but didn't take my eyes off him.

It feels weird and definitely hurt in places but nowhere near as much as my ribs do right now. Starting like that before brought on a new bought of searing throbbing.

"You got lucky. It's just a muscle bruise near a nerve cluster. It'll heal up on it's own in a few days. It'll be sore for awhile. Try not to aggravate it. Now lift your shirt please. Let me see about those bruises."

I lifted my shirt without resistance this time(as long as his hands get away from my neck), so he could poke and prod at my torso.

The sharp intakes, and horror stricken faces of the blonde woman, T-Dog, and the porch girl(who I'm 45% sure is sweet on Glenn), aren't helping my attempt at a positive outlook.

Hershel barely put any pressure on my ribs before I grabbed his wrist with a sharp exhale out my nose.

I let go a second later and beared with it, grinding my teeth as he poked around. Literally.

"Well, good news is they're not broken, just cracked. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do for these either. They'll heal on their own in a few weeks but we'll see about something for the pain in the meantime."

"Maggie, could you get her some painkillers and fix her something to eat? Make sure she drinks some water."

"Course" Porch girl Maggie nodded, motioning for me to follow her and I stood before doing just that.

I watched her shake out a few pills from a bottle of ibuprofen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it in the sink before handing both to me.

I popped the pills into my mouth, and as soon as the cool water hit my throat I chugged the whole thing. God I didn't realize how thirsty I was. Or how good tap water tastes.

Maggie fixed me a sandwich, eyeing me through her eyelashes every few seconds while she spread jam on a piece of bread.

I wonder if she's assuming I can read minds.

"You're not much of a talker are you?" Finally, I was starting to think she was never gonna speak up.

The corners of my mouth lifted and I gave a limited head shake.

Maggie set the sandwich in front of me and I most certainly did not marvel at the use of a plate before less than gracefully shoving half the sandwich in my mouth. I haven't eaten since this morning before we left the RV.

I never thought I'd miss peanut butter so much. The thick creamy substance tasting like pure heaven on my tongue. If I could make my own peanut butter nowadays I would eat everything with it. Lord knows it'd make 90% of the stuff taste better.

I smiled gratefully around a mouthful and Maggie returned it with her own slightly amused as I followed her back out to the other room, plate in hand.

Maggie looked out the window and wandered outside as I sat down to devour this peanut, strawberry goodness.

Hold up, is that Glenn on the porch?

My cheek muscles strained with the grin on my lips, watching Maggie sneak up on him.

Maybe he does need a bodyguard.

After I finished the sandwich(in record time), I washed the plate —with gloves so I don't get yelled at for soiling the fresh, clean bandages— and stopped to admire the running water.

It's the little things in life you miss the most, isn't it? Running water, a mattress, peanut butter, heated water, having more than two changes of clothes. A sense of familiarity.

Honestly I'm jealous. They still live in their house. They still have all their belongings. The little things they've collected over the years, things with memories that aren't attached to death or pain, guilt or sorrow.

A stampede of footsteps had me shutting off the water and spinning on my heel in one quick flourish, going through the other room to see everyone rushing out the door.

I caught up with T-Dog standing in the front doorway, and everyone else was moving towards a blue truck where Shane all but fell out of the cabin, limping, with two giant bags on his shoulders.

I can see his chest heaving from the porch 30 feet away.

Hershel and Glenn took the heavy bags from him, Glenn nearly dropping his at the unexpected weight.

"Otis?" Hershel looked around before halting on Shane as I made it down the staircase.

Shane's empty stare fixed on him, and he hung his head. The shake he gave barely noticeable.

"No" he breathed, eyes flicking between Glenn, Hershel, the ground, not focusing on anything.

A heavy silence weighed the atmosphere like a car in a river; souring the relief from moments before to woe.

"We say nothing to Patricia." Hershel turned back and forth, struggling with which way to go, pain tinging his voice. "Not till after."

"I need her" he headed for the porch steps, rushing back inside; followed by Glenn.

Shane looked everywhere, movements fidgety and trembling but not from fear. From hyperawareness. I've seen it often enough in my time to recognize the distinction.

Wide unblinking eyes, no trouble boring into Rick's eyes.

Rick stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Shane. Shane stared at the ground over his shoulder, hands rising meekly; that's when they began to shake. Right after he looked at Lori next to me.

Rick pulled back, and Shane's gaze dropped to nothing on the ground.

"They kept blocking us it was... every turn" Shane breathed, so low I almost couldn't hear him.

"We had nothing left. We were down to 10 rounds." Shane swayed back and forth on his feet, like the slightest noise would send him running again.

"Then he said— he said he'd cover me and I should keep going." Shane jabbed his finger towards the ground. "So that's what I did. I just—..."

He looked at Rick, "I kept going." his eyes directed to the side, "But I—"

The muscles in his face contracted like he was angry but his eyes remained blown wide, throwing it off into something indiscernible.

"I looked back and he—" Shane shook his head, again looking anywhere but at Rick. "Just—"

I set my hand on Maggie's trembling shoulder and Lori stepped closer to her, rubbing her back the way a mother comforts a child.

"I tried" Shane mumbled, the adrenaline looking like it's finally dissipating.

Rick stepped forward, placing his hand on Shane's shoulder in an effort to comfort. "He wanted to make it right."

Shane stared at him, nodding, and pulled his hand over his mouth.

I turned, giving Maggie's shoulder a squeeze before heading back into the house.

I don't know who Otis is but Carl has a chance now; whoever he is— or was...thank you.