Amanda and Beth friendships fans, this's our chapter :)
XXI.
After the screams stopped and silence came, Beth started feeling even worse. She lifted her head, listening to the utter silence, her ears trying to pick up something—anything. Nothing. There was nothing to hear. "Is it finished?" she asked, turning her head to Frankie, "Is he done?"
The woman's face had gotten even paler after she'd returned from the room, her hands having a slight shake, and Beth had asked her what Negan had wanted, had asked what he'd been doing to Amanda, but the woman had shook her head and only said the sick man had wanted a photo of her friend.
Beth could still remember the way Negan had ordered Glenn's photos to be taken afterward, and she'd trembled even worse, her eyes tearing more… "Why didn't they still come back?"
Frankie gave her a look after exchanging a quick one with her own people, and sighed, "He's probably fucking her now, Beth," the woman finally said slowly.
Beth shook her head, "No." No… Amanda would've never let that happen, "You don't know Amanda. She would never."
"And you don't know Negan," one of the Frankie's friends, with brown hair, countered, "He's got his kinks out of this. He beats you first, then caresses you, talks you soft, then fucks you."
Amanda was right. This—this was a nightmare. But Amanda—no. Never.
She couldn't sit there any longer. She—she had to something. We should do something! echoed in her mind… They should do something. She stood up. She didn't know what she was doing, she just had to do something.
"Beth—" Frankie whispered after her, but she didn't stop, kept walking.
The corridor was deserted, there was no one around. Negan must've sent everyone away for his…play. The bile came to her throat, and she pushed the thoughts assaulting at her—Dawn and the picture—her hand rising—and Noah—the way he looked after he'd taken the blame for her…
No. This was wrong. Wrong. She stopped in front of Negan's quarters, and tried to listen.
Still no sound. She pressed her ear on the door to hear better, the side of her face completely pressed on the wooden surface, but still couldn't hear anything.
Beth thought about it for a second or so before she made up her mind. Then with a trembling hand, she grabbed the knob and cracked the door open.
Over the crack, Beth peeked inside—then her eyes caught the bed. Her breath stopped—her eyes widening.
Blood—the bed was a pool of blood.
And Amanda was laying over him, straddling his hips, her legs at both sides of the man, and her dress was pulled over her waist—and up over the stockings over her legs, her bottom, almost naked with her fancy G-string, was covered with angry, bloodied slashes down over her hips. She could even see them from afar from the door. Her eyes filled with tears, seeing her friend like that but there was something even more wrong—the way she was sprawled over him listlessly in the bed… so much blood…
No… No…
Opening the door further, Beth quickly slipped inside, and closing it she rushed at the bed. As she did, her eyes caught the whip on the floor, her breath gagging at her throat, seeing it—and her steps fastened—
And stopped dead in her steps when she saw them fully, pressing her hand to muffle out her sudden sobs, tears almost broken over her eyes.
Negan—Negan was dead—his throat—his throat was having a big tear—as if…as if someone had ripped it off. Her stomach twisting, Beth realized what had happened.
Amanda—Amanda had ripped off his throat, like…like Rick had done.
But she— She launched herself over the bed, crawling on her knees toward them over the blood covered sheets and pushed her hair away from her neck where she had rested the side of her head at the man's chest. Her face—her mouth—her neck—everything was covered with dark blood. Beth even saw small pieces of flesh around the corner of her mouth, and saw vomit too, mixed with blood…in her hair and on her skin…everywhere blood and vomit. Praying silently inside without words, Beth tried to feel her friend's pulse…
She couldn't be dead… Her friend couldn't be dead… Please, don't let her be death!
Not like this—she couldn't have died this—over a dead body of a sick man…Momentarily she remembered the elevator shaft—the dead bodies under her—no…no…they shouldn't die here… They—they should die within the arms of the men they loved, circled with friends… after they had birthdays, holidays, and summer picnics…
Not like this! Please not like this!
She didn't want to lose anyone else. They had already lost so many people…
And how many days had passed without an accident now?
"Please—" Beth whispered out, then slowly, slowly fluttering, Beth felt it. Her pulse—beating under her skin.
Relief washed over all of her being, and she raised up her head… Thank you…thank you…
Quickly Beth started pulling her away from the dead body. Amanda had lost consciousness over a ticking bomb.
Briefly she thought what would've happened if Beth hadn't decided to check her out—hadn't come—hadn't found her… She pushed the thought away.
They—they needed to get out of here. Negan was dead. Amanda had killed him. They needed to get out of here. Now.
How? Beth asked herself then.
She—she had to wake up Amanda first. She couldn't carry her. Amanda—she had to wake up. Beth rested her at the edge of the bed and started shaking her shoulders. "Amanda! Amanda! Wake up—!"
She didn't. Beth shook her friend even harder, her tiny figure rocking with the force of her movements, "Amanda! Wake up…" Still no response… "Amanda! Please…."
She must've been in shock or something. Her eyes wandered around the room, and they fell on a photo at the bed. Beth reached out for it. When she saw the picture, her tears finally broke loose, and she started crying. It must've been the photo Negan had asked Frankie to take and this…this was what Amanda had gone thorough…humiliation after humiliation—
She threw the photo away as if it burned her—and it had, in a way it had, and her gaze moving downward, she saw her friend's lower body closer; the lacerated skin—angry lashes, bloodied… This… this was going to leave scars on Amanda, just like Daryl's back. She was going to have them on her skin for the rest of her life, but Beth always knew it was nothing next to the scars that his broken back had left on Daryl inside, just like Dawn's scar over her cheek. The pain had faded, but memory had stayed.
It pained her now seeing Amanda was going to have these memories, too, as if she wasn't already scarred enough. As if none of them was already scarred enough.
Her eyes caught the whip on the ground, the vile thing—nine tails with knots at each end…to scar them more, to hurt them more, to break them more, and with all the hatred and fury filling in her veins, Beth turned and kicked the cursed thing away.
No!
Their life was not going to end like this! Scarred, broken, in a pool of blood and vomit, next a bastard's body, away from their loved ones, away from the men they loved. Not if she had a say in it. She felt the fierce determination she'd found inside her at the elevator shaft filling her up again—the will to live—the will to survive…to fight…to get back home.
They were going to be happy. They were going to have birthdays, holidays, and summer picnics, and when the death came, it was going to be inside their bed, peacefully, with the men they loved, with their children… Children… Amanda was going to have her babies, and so Daryl and Beth. She decided it. She'd been so afraid before, so—so afraid, but she'd made up her mind. They were going to have a baby, too. She wanted it. She wanted it with all of her being.
They were going back home. Not a whole seven nation army could hold them back now!
She leaned over her friend's consciousness body and shook her again, "Amanda! We're going home. Wake up now!" She had to wake up, she had to… They also needed a plan. But first Amanda had to come to.
Then Beth pulled back an inch and slapped her friend right across her face. "Wake up." she whispered fiercely, and another slap, "Wake up now!"
Her face tossed aside, and Amanda gave out a low whimper, and Beth felt relief washing her over through her determination. She leaned over her friend closer and held her cheek over blood and vomit at her face, "Amanda, honey, you have to wake up. We need to go home."
"Home—" Amanda whispered out, her eyes fluttering.
"Yes. Home."
She opened her eyes, glazed eyes trying to focus on her, "Beth…?"
"Yes. It's me—" Beth held her hand and started pulling her up, "Are you all right?"
In answer, Amanda just stared at her—her eyes still unfocused, staying up where Beth sat her at the edge of the bed, and whispered almost inaudible, "I wanna go home."
"Yes, we are," Beth told her, "But I need you up." She knelt at the older woman's feet and tried to pull her dress down over her legs again… as Amanda didn't do anything, but only let her do it.
All right! They needed a plan, a real one. Standing up, Beth tried to get the facts clear, like Amanda always did, like Daryl had told her while they were hunting. Always be aware of your surroundings.
Amanda—even awake, was still in shock, couldn't function properly.
And, there was a dead body in the room, a dead body that would start reanimating in any time now.
They had to get out of here before anyone understood what had exactly happened, that Amanda had killed the Savior's leader, and Beth was getting to realize that they were going to need help for that.
Giving Amanda another look, Beth made up her mind then. She bent down over her friend, and gave the older woman's hair a soft, quick kiss, "Stay here. I'm coming in a minute."
Amanda made out another whimper but didn't make further protests. Beth felt a pinch at her chest, leaving her friend behind like this, especially with a dead body, but there was no way else.
She quickly checked herself if there was blood over herself, wiping off her hands with sheet's clean parts, then walked to the door and stepped out. She ran along the empty corridor, quite grateful that there were no guards around and walked into the parlor again. Her eyes quickly found Frankie. She had no idea how many of those women they would actually trust, but Frankie—Frankie was their only chance.
"Negan's calling for you," Beth lied to the woman.
The redhead's dark blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she stood up a second later. When Negan asked for you, you just had to go. When the woman came to her side, they walked back together to the room.
Beth opened the door, and walked in again, and the other woman followed—and stopped dead at her tracks, seeing the scene; Amanda still sitting at the edge of the bed, her glazed eyes staring ahead at the wall, her face—mouth—her cleavage, hands… all covered with blood as Negan lay dead in a pool of blood, sheets red and tangled dropping over the floor—a scene of macabre.
Looking back at it came even to her terrifying, so Beth wasn't surprised to see the terrified, stupefied expression over the other woman's face.
Beth closed the door behind them. "Wh—what happened here?" the woman whispered out.
Beth walked beside her, "I told you she would've never let him touch her."
"She—she killed him?"
Beth nodded, "Ripped off his throat with her teeth," Beth almost snarled, "Yeah…she killed him."
The redhead's head snapped at her, "We—we need to go," Beth then told the woman, "All of us. We need to go."
Frankie shook her head, "How?"
"There must be someone who could help us here—someone!" Beth cried, "We need to leave this place. We don't belong here. I know what you tell yourself, I know you say there's nothing to do, but it's not true. There's still hope."
The woman gave her another look, "Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that we can escape?"
"We have to try—" Beth told her back with all the determination she felt, "I'm not letting one of them come and punish my friend again. We're leaving—" Her voice came out certain, because she was—she was certain, "No way or another."
Giving her another long look, as if she was testing her, trying to decide, the woman finally nodded. "Mark," she then remarked, "The guy Amber was fooling around. The man who got the iron for her. He's still at guard at the posts. If Amber asks him—if she asks him to come with us, he'd help us."
And now they had a hope. A plan. Beth nodded quickly.
Frankie turned around, "I'm getting them. Wait here," and with that, she left.
Staring the door after her, Beth wondered—a suspicion finding her, trusting a stranger like this—what if, what if the woman had turned with one of the guards, selling them out.
Beth shook her head. No. Frankie wasn't going to betray them. She—she could play placid, calm, but Beth had seen her hands shake after she'd come back from the room.
Seeing Amanda like that—seeing a woman like that— Amanda had looked so broken in the photo, her teary eyes carrying shame, being forced to it, exposed and humiliated, and hurt. It'd shaken the other woman, as well, and Beth wondered if the cool, aloof woman had ever had to go through that herself, too, and if Negan had a picture of her just like that…
The picture, then Beth remembered.
They couldn't leave it there. If anyone saw it—no, they were going to burn it together, like how Daryl and she had burned the ramshackle cabin and elevator shaft together, Amanda and she were going to burn that damn photo, too.
At home, when they got back to home.
She walked to pick up the photo from where she'd thrown it away just as the moment Frankie returned, with the other three of her friends.
The girls looked terrified upon seeing the scene, and Frankie quickly closed the door behind her. "Don't be afraid. It's okay. He's dead. Amanda—Amanda killed her."
Amber made out a frightened whimper, and Frankie turned to them, "Listen to me. We're going. Beth and I—we talked about it. We're going," she repeated, more to herself perhaps, Beth couldn't be sure, "But we need help. Amber—" the redhead looked at her blonde friend, "Amber, you need to talk with Mark. We need help. He can help us get through the east gate."
Frightened, Amber shook her head, "What if—what if we get caught?" the girl whispered, "I—I can't live through that again. I can't, Frankie."
"We won't," Beth assured her, "We're gonna leave this place, and we're gonna happy—You can come with us. You all can live with us." She looked at the new arrivals, "Don't—don't you want to leave this place?"
Frankie turned to Amber, "Beth is right. We can do it. When Negan will turn, and they'll understand he's dead, shit will hit the fan here. We can escape in the chaos."
"We can't wait until then here—" Tanya cut in.
Frankie nodded. "Yeah…We…" She stopped, as if thinking, "After the punishment, it's expected to see the doctor. He takes care of us. If we take her infirmary, no one will question it. Almost everyone knows she's to be punished tonight now. Negan cleared off the guards from our corridors because of that. He likes to be alone when he punishes us."
Well, it hadn't worked on him well this time. But for them, it was a blessing. If there had been guards in their quarters, things would've been a hell. She nodded, but her eye skipping at Amanda, she frowned, "We can't make her walk around the compound like this," she remarked, eying her wild figure all covered blood and vomit, "We—we need to redress her. Can you find a dress?"
Frankie turned to Tanya, "Tanya, get our quarters and find one of my dresses. Talk to no one and be careful." The woman then turned to her other friends too, "Amber, Nicole—you go and find Mark and wait for us there. We'll come to find you when the confusion starts."
They all left, and Beth started going back to the bed. Frankie turned to Amanda, as well, looking at her sitting still figure, eyes still looking ahead, she asked, "Is she in shock?" Beth nodded. "Did—did she really do it? Rip his throat off?"
Beth looked at the dead body, and the tear at his neck, "Yeah."
"She will be okay?" the woman asked in a whisper.
Beth stood at the edge of the bed, her eyes turning to her friend, "Yes. She will. When we return to home."
The other woman nodded. Beth leaned over the dead body and started checking his waists, looking for guns or knives. "Can you find a sponge or something to clean her?" she asked Frankie.
The woman nodded. Beth found a gun and a knife at Negan's waist, and started looking to find something to tie the gun around her thigh. Her dress had nothing to hide something, so she had to tie it around her upper leg like women did in the movies.
She walked to the whip seeing it at the floor, and with a grimace took the vile thing and cut it loose with the knife. She started tying together each rope together, her fingers feeling the red wetness over the length of them but mostly over the knots the lashes had—Amanda's blood. Her eyes teared again, this time with fury and anger.
She made a rope enough long to tie around her thigh, and putting her foot at the bed, she started tying the gun around her inner leg, binding it a couple of time, tighter and tighter, so the thing couldn't drop off if they needed to run.
When she was done, Frankie returned from the bathroom as well, her hands having two washcloths. Beth took one of it from her, and together they started cleaning Amanda.
For a split of second, Amanda's eyes flickered toward them, but she didn't do anything else, just let them clean her, still sitting listlessly at the bed, catatonic, like a stone gargoyle.
Beth rubbed the blood over her mouth and chin, as Frankie worked on her hands, and Tanya came back, another black dress hanging over her arm, a dress of flared skirts, adorned with lace. It was different than what Amanda was wearing, and Beth felt glad of the flared skirts, because she knew when Amanda had started coming to herself, even that fitting fabric over her bottom was going to hurt her like hell.
Kneeling in front of her, Beth started rising the fitting dress over her hips again—and Amanda whimpered softly as she did—still hurting through her catatonic state, "Shhs—it's okay. We got you, honey—" she whispered at her as Amanda leaned over her chest. With much difficulty, and with Amanda's soft whimpers, Beth managed to take the damn dress off her, and Frankie and Tanya cleaned the rest of her body quickly and pushed the clean dress over her head.
When they were done, they all took a step back from her, and looked at her. She looked clean once again—her face pale as ghost, and her expression vacant as much as her eyes, but Beth didn't think it would've been a problem, because like Frankie had said everyone knew now Rick Grimes's wife was going to be punished tonight.
Beth was sure the damn bastard made a point in that. Beth looked at her friend again, her chest aching, and her eyes caught her hair. It was still tangled with blood and vomit, not as bad as her face, but there were still there.
Beth gave a sigh. "Her hair… We have to wash it, as well."
She wondered how long Amanda had actually passed out—she was remembering not hearing screams for more than fifteen minutes—so it had to be happened somewhere around then and that made it almost half of an hour now.
Coming back from death differed for everyone, sometimes it took hours, sometimes only a few minutes, so in any case—they had to be prepared now.
She turned to Frankie, "Tanya and I will wash her hair in the bathroom—you stay at guard over him, okay?" She turned around to find something to deal with him in case that he turned, and her eyes caught the baseball bat—grimacing, she walked to it with a purposeful pace.
Taking it from the wall, where it stood rested, she gave it to the redhead. "Just smash the bastard's head if he come backs."
Quite poetic, all things considered.
Beth walked then back to Amanda, and leaning down to take her arm, supporting her weight on her shoulder, she pulled Amanda up at her feet.
Amanda swayed on her feet, and Tanya held her from her other side, then they stared walking her to the bathroom. Goodness, this was going to be hard. Beth thought for a second taking off her shoes, the heels were making it even harder for her, but the wives always wore shoes with heels, no matter what. She could not walk in Sanctuary in boots. She didn't even know if they would find boots for her. She had no idea where their own stuff was now—and remembering her cowboy boots Beth felt a pang of guilt, she'd been having her boots since the very beginning.
When they walked into the bathroom, they moved to the bathtub. Beth put her hand on her friend's back and tried to bend her down over the tub so they could wash her hair—but Amanda whimpered out, suddenly shaking her head agitated. Flickering her eyes at the older woman, Beth saw her vacant expression turned into a terrified one as Beth forced her to bend down.
Suddenly Beth understood, tears threating her again…
"Amanda, honey, it's me—Beth—" she told her slowly, "We have to wash your hair. Could you please bend down so we can do it? It's okay. I'm here—it's okay." Beth slowly lowered her on her knees on the ground as she talked, Amanda still making another whimper, and her chest ached so badly seeing her like this, Beth wanted to go back and smashed the bastard's head with his bat.
She made Amanda bow her head inside the tub and took the shower head's cord and started washing her hair quickly. They rinsed the blood and other stuff from her curls and put a towel on her.
They returned to the room. Beth quickly started blow-drying her hair with the towel, and wanted to comb her hair too, but Frankie shook her head. "Leave it like that. We gotta go now."
Beth knew the woman had a point. They—they had to leave, get her away from here. They need to fing themselves a sanctuary in the infirmary until all hell broke loose. But they were going to be out soon—and the winter air was still so cold to wander around with wet dripping hair.
But they got no choice else, either.
Tanya opened the door for her, and entering her elbow from each side, they started making her walk out. The corridors were still deserted, and they dragged Amanda forcefully, their heels echoing at the floor as Amanda walked on them with difficulty, stumbling on her feet.
They stopped for a second at the main entrance of their living quarters before they walked out of the Sanctuary's public spaces. Beth let out a deep sigh, and exchanged a look with Frankie, and nodded, "Come on, let's do it."
Tanya pushed the door open, and they emerged out.
The first guards were a few feet away from the gate, two of retinues of Amanda, Beth recognized. The man gave them a long look as they approached, seizing Amanda up and down, and upon seeing her stumbling, broken figure they started snickering silently, and one of them muttered, turning to his friend as they passed them, "Oh boy, Negan did it good this time…she ain't gon' sit on her ass two weeks at least…wanna bet?"
With the corner of her eyes, Beth saw tears slipped off Amanda's eyes. "Don't listen them, honey…Don't listen to them…" Beth whispered at her friend, leaning toward her ear, "We're going home."
"Home…" Amanda whispered back.
There were some pitying looks and ashamed running away seeing them walking in the corridors, forcefully holding Amanda at her feet, but it was mostly snickering and laughs, giving her those looks, and each time Beth leaned in on her, swallowing through a heavy lump over her throat, telling her they were going back home.
And each time, she whispered back the same, "Home…"
When they finally got the infirmary, Beth wanted to fall on her knees and pray crying. This—this was a nightmare… She wished Amanda had been really out of consciousness, not having to live through this, not having to listen all these snickers or seeing those pitying gazes. She wished they'd never been here, never had seen these people, never had left their home. Never.
They walked into the infirmary, and for all the good and sacred, it wasn't Doctor Harlan, but his big brother at the duty. If he'd been the doctor—if it'd been the man who had betrayed them, Beth didn't know how Amanda would've reacted.
At their arrival, the doctor rushed at them quickly and pointed at the examination gurney. They lay her over there carefully, on her stomach. The doctor nodded then, "I—I was told tonight she would come. I was expecting her."
Beth nodded. "She's…she's in pain and shock. Can you give her something?"
If she could walk without help, it would've been really great. Soon they were going out, and outside was as dangerous as this place. Especially at nights. The woods—walkers were everywhere, and they only got a gun. She hoped at least this Mark had a gun as well and was good with it.
Amanda needed something. Hell, if she started to be her usual kickass self, it wouldn't be bad either. She was a police officer, had been trained for this. Beth—Beth was just going along—Amanda—Amanda would've planned something, a real plan.
She pushed the thought away. Amanda—her friend—needed her now. She was going to save her. They were going back home. She would fight them all, if necessary. But they were leaving.
But the doctor shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'll give her antibiotics for infections, but painkillers aren't allowed for punishments."
Beth shook her head, angered, this was wrong! All of it. Wrong! Twisted! Vile! "She's suffering!"
"She's supposed to," the doctor answered slowly, "I'm sorry. It's the rules. If I break them, I'm getting punished."
For a moment or so, Beth thought of pulling out the gun and threatened the doctor, but Frankie cut in before she could do anything, "Yes, doctor, we know. Beth is just worried. Please give her antibiotics."
The doctor nodded, as Beth exchanged a look with Frankie, a long look, then she turned her away. She—they had to work though it. Amanda was tough. She was going to handle it. If they—they acted early, they would fuck it up. They couldn't risk it.
The doctor lifted her flared skirts and seeing Amanda's bottom made her blood boil in her veins again. She forced herself to stay calm—not yet, not yet. It wasn't still the time. Amanda also needed to get treatment. If her scars got infected, she would've gotten blood-poison. And—and she was pregnant… even the poisoning wouldn't have been fatal to her, for the babies—Mentally, Beth shook her head. She needed treatment.
The doctor washed her skin first with antiseptic and put on some light bandages to cover the open scars, then made a shot of antibiotics through her arm and covered her back.
The doctor then turned and walked back one of his drawers and pulled out a couple of pills and antiseptics. "She has to take these in every eight hours." He showed them antibiotics and raised a bottle of antiseptic and a wrap of clean bandages in his other hand, "And wash and change her bandages every twelve hours. We can start taking off bandages after the fifth day, but until then let her keep it, even if it hurts and itches. You have to keep it clean."
Nodding, Beth took them, grateful. "If she starts running a fever—" the doctor started, but a sudden sound erupted outside, and sirens go off too—and Beth understood it'd started.
The doctor opened the door and looked outside as Beth and Frankie took Amanda off the gurney and started carrying her out. "We—we need to turn to our quarters. We're not allowed to be out when sirens blast," Frankie said, and Beth wondered if it was a lie or not.
Not that it made any difference.
All around them was in chaos, people started darting at every direction—the lambs at the walls flashing red as the sirens filled the air.
And no one seemed to give them a shit as they walked away from their living quarters towards the east gate.
Beth wondered how long their luck would've kept going before someone realized Negan had been killed by Amanda—it wouldn't have taken long, and they needed to get outside before that happened.
Even Amanda had started walking a bit faster, still stumbling at her feet, but faster. She didn't know it was because of the medicine she'd been given, or because somehow sirens had managed to get through her almost catatonic state, but Beth was damn glad. "Beth—" Amanda whispered out over the sirens, leaning down toward her, "Home…"
"Yes—honey," she told her friend, "We're going home. We're going to Rick and Daryl," she said, "We're going to sleep with them tonight."
She made out a whimper again, and gave a little shake of head, as if—as if she wanted to say something, "Home—" she started but arriving the east gate, they ushered at it before she could continue.
A man—a man with half of his face burned— open the door of his little cabin—and darting looks at around, he took them inside. Inside, Amber and Nicole were there, too, waiting as Frankie had ordered.
"We need to leave now," Beth told them quickly, "We need to leave before they come to shut all gates."
Frankie nodded. Beth took Amanda's elbow again, "Ready to see Rick again?" she asked, giving her friend an encouraging smile.
Amanda gave her a look, a bit more lucid, Beth realized with happiness, "Beth…" Yes, they were going home… they were going to the men they loved, to their families, and they were going to put all this nightmare behind themselves, they were going to burn them all—
Beth stopped, her mind flying back at Negan's room… The photo! The damn photo. It'd been in her hand when Frankie had come back, but while dealing with Amanda, changing her clothes, she'd put it down on the bed, then forgot it there!
She'd forgotten the damn thing back there! "Her photo!" she turned to Frankie, "I—left it back there!"
"We can't go back!" the redhead quickly said, "We can't."
No. No. They couldn't leave it there, with those people, to look at and laugh—making bets, snickers, and god knew what else! No. They had to burn it. It should've never been taken. Amanda should've never been violated in that way. "Beth, we can't go back. We have to go," Frankie nodded.
And Amanda sputtered out too, leaning in on her further, holding her hand, her fingers going through hers, "Can't go back…Beth…we can't…"
Yes! Dammit! They couldn't go back. "Okay, honey," she said, started walking her out, and other quickly followed too, "We're going…we're going home."
But Amanda shook her head, her fingers tightened on hers as they stood over the fences, the dead lined up at both sides. "Beth… we can't," Amanda again said as Mark slid open the gate.
Beth stopped, turned and looked at her friend, at her sister not by blood but by love, before she took her out of this damn place, out of this damn nightmare, and Amanda said, "Beth…we can't go back home."
A whole Beth chapter, being awesome :)
I know a lot of people love Beth and Amanda's friendship, as much as I love them together, and I wanted Beth to get them out of there from the start, like she did at Grady, finding herself new alliances, all the while taking care of Amanda while she has a complete breakdown after her ordeal-but still trying to tell Beth they can't go back home.
We'll see what Rick and Daryl are up too, as well in the next chapter, I haven't forgotten them. Quite happy to announce that they will get back together soon.
