XXII.

Over her tongue there was still the taste of flesh and blood, and her body was burning. The slap had bit at her cheek, bringing her back but Amanda wanted to go back to darkness, wanted it to envelope her, cocooning, making her forget everything.

Rick.

She opened her eyes…and tried to see the blue eyes—electrical but warm…but the blue eyes she saw wasn't the same color—it was doelike—wide, sincere and earnest… Beth?

Her voice—a whimper…so cracked—so throaty…so broken…a whimper…

"We're going home…" her friend told her, pulling her back up, and Amanda thought of Rick again… She didn't know how Beth had found her—she didn't care at all… She just wanted to go home.

"I wanna go home…"

She wanted to see Judith again, hold her in her arms. She wanted to make cookies to Carl. She wanted to kiss Rick, hold him—tightly—wanted him to make her forget everything.

Girls like you need men like me…his voice echoed in her blank mind. You're wanting it, begging for it…desperately. Soft but empty…

She was alone in the room now, sitting at the bed on fire—staring at the wall—over her tongue the taste of flesh and blood…copper, metallic, and vile. Bile in her throat. She just wanted it end now. Go back home… It felt like a dream—or just a horror movie that you watched at TV, knowing it wasn't real, it wasn't happening.

She barely registered anything, even the flames across her skin but she knew it still was happening. To her.

Still, she just stared at the wall. Beth was here—wasn't here at the moment—but she was here. Beth—Beth was going to take her back home.

Her friend was going to take her out of this horror. Amanda just was going to wait—stare at the wall—she couldn't do anything else, couldn't turn her head and look at the body lying beside her… She knew it was there. She knew. She just couldn't see it.

It was hard enough to know he was there—she just couldn't look it. Couldn't look at what she'd done, couldn't look at what he'd done—her photo flashed in the blankness of her mind—red—in pain…

A broken sound poured out of her, and Amanda just kept staring at wall.

A second or a lifetime later there were other people back in the room—with Beth—she wasn't alone anymore, and she felt glad—even though she couldn't register who they were—she was just staring at the wall…

She just wanted it end now.

They were talking—plans and such, and a small—the smallest part of her was telling her she had to get up—get up and fight, but its voice was so faint—so weak—and she was so—tired… So she just stared at the wall.

They came back to her, and started cleaning her—holding her arms up, wiping clean her face, her neck—herself—and she let them do… like a doll.

The thought made another red flash in the darkness, but still she couldn't help herself—Beth—Beth was there. Beth couldn't hurt her.

But then she brought her to the bath and forced to her bend down.

And the memory flashed so red in the emptiness inside, terror seizing her, cutting her insides… she heard a whistle in the air—and a crack at her skin…

And she begged—please, let me lay over your knees…

But Beth was talking to her again…. "Amanda, honey, we need to wash your hair…. Could you please bend down so we can do it?" And, Amanda was falling on her knees—like a doll—a plaything…

She wanted to go home. Why they couldn't just go home?

They took her out, they were going—away from that nightmare…so she didn't need to stare at the wall now but walking hurt—so very badly, with each step she felt she was put aflame more, and everywhere around her, there were whispers, and snickers… and she heard… "she ain't gon' sit on her ass for two weeks at least, wanna bet?"

Wanna bet…? It echoed in her—in the emptiness… and she felt a wetness over her cheek.

"Don't listen to them honey, don't listen to them… We're going home."

"Home…" Yes, home. She—they needed to get back home…but…but…that faint voice scratched in her again, clawing at the back of her consciousness—trying to say something—but everywhere—everywhere there were whispers and snickers…and worse…those looks…those pitying looks…like she was a broken, damaged thing.

Girls like you need men like me to make them whole—his voice told her, and she hated it—she hated it just the first time she'd heard it, because she knew it was truth, because she knew she was just damaged goods, someone who should've never even born, someone who needed someone else to make her forget how lonely she was—how truly alone, empty inside.

But she wasn't alone…she had people now… even now… Beth was there—with her—her friend…her friend was taking her back home… She—she wasn't alone. And… she wasn't even empty inside… she had her babies.

Her babies…

Is this why you wanted to put a baby in there? Fill your emptiness inside?

A piece of Rick—inside her growing—filling her in… she had always known it, and they—they'd created a life—two lives together. Rick wanted to create a life together with her—and they had… In her mind, Rick smiled warmly at her again—even felt the light, gentle touches tingling at the tips of her fingers, and a warmness started spreading over her again, melting the blankness, bringing her back to the serenity…

Rick. She—she had to go back to Rick… Shouldn't let that vile man break her more. The bastard hadn't known a damn thing about her or him.

They lay over her on her stomach—she was in the infirmary—she recognized it from the sharp smells—Grady coming to her back, but she didn't let herself think anymore. They were going back home. Then they were going to put this behind—forget about it—and move on.

So Amanda just lay there—and let them do it—open her skirts and prob her burning ass, and it hurt even worse when the doctor cleaned her wounds—biting—snarling at her skin—putting her on fire, and they were talking about meds, and painkillers and such, but Amanda wasn't listening—she was—there was that faint echo at the back at her head again—clinging at her—poking at her…

And she tried to focus on it—trying to find it—she knew deep down she had to—she had to find—she was missing something. God, she just had to stop and think!

Then there were sirens—blasting in the air screeching, and screeching, and screeching, and it slipped off her—like sand through slipping through her fingers.

Beth pulled her up again, standing her up and they left the infirmary in a hurry—even she was walking faster—it was still hurting—and she was still tumbling with her heels—but they needed to get the hell out of here, and go back home—and Amanda knew it… Home—and that thing—the faint echo was crawling at the back of her mind again. She tried to think again, but the sirens just wouldn't let her, blasting in her ears… She leaned down over Beth, "Beth—" she tried to say, her voice still coming out as a whimper, "Home…" she said, there was something—something she couldn't just find—and Beth—Beth—gave her an smile, "Yes, we're going home. We're going to Rick and Daryl."

She shook her head a little, there was something wrong. A hunch—or something—a faint echo in her mind trying to tell her something. She needed to listen to it, it was important, but they were almost running now outside, towards the gate, towards the escape, and Beth was persistence, talking to women with them. Amanda realized—they were escaping together—Frankie and her friends—Beth—Beth had convinced them.

They were running together. To home.

And there was really something wrong with that!

Inside the cabin at the gate, Beth turned to her, "Ready to see Rick again?"

Her mind flashed at the last time she'd seen him—the memory slipping further in her, crawling back at her head toward the faint echo, and she recognized it— And imagine you did, imagine you got me out there—what happens then?

What happened now? "Beth—" she turned to her, blankness slowly lifting off her.

But Beth suddenly exclaimed before Amanda could say—find something more, turning to other women, "Her photo! I left it back there!"

"We can't go back," Frankie said quickly, "We can't."

Then Amanda knew…She grabbed Beth's hand quickly as soon as it came to her, "Can't go back, Beth, we can't…."

Beth nodded, her face grimacing, but said, "Yes, honey. We're going home."

No! she wanted to scream, but she couldn't find her voice. She-they had to leave…they couldn't go back. When they realized they were gone, Alexandria was going to the first place they would come to look for them… She—she had killed Negan. No matter what they wouldn't have let that go…unpunished.

They…they to go. She—she had to protect her home. She couldn't let them destroy it. They were going out again though, Beth had taken her arm—they were leaving this place, leaving her photo back—the thought cut through her—but she shook her head, nothing was important that… They—they needed to find a place—a safe place—and regroup and find a way to contact Rick and Daryl again. They—they couldn't go back home. Not yet. She held Beth's hand tighter, "Beth…we can't…" she told her friend then, trying to find the words—trying to explain—everything was still a mess—and a part of her—the big part of her still just wanted to stare at a wall—darkness consuming her—she…she was tired—so tired—beaten, broken, humiliated, there was one thing she only wanted—to be in Rick's arms as he made her forget everything.

She just wanted to be with Rick, and forget everything, even herself.

But that faint echo was still there—at the back of her consciousness—a thread of something—as thin as a hair and as sharp as razor—she was afraid to touch and get hurt—her skin was still burning. But the thread was still persistence—crawling toward her—demanding—demanding to be touched and heard—so she did, like she was pulled—like she couldn't help herself…like she was drawn to… She closed her eyes, and slowly reaching out…and she touched it.

And she heard it, the faint echo turning Rick's low, rasping voice—the demanding voice she always had found herself listening to—no matter what—and it told her, told her—get up and fight.

Once again Amanda listened to it. She opened her eyes and looked at Beth as her friend looked at her back at the gate, "Beth…we can't go back home."

# # #

Beth was still staring at her as they stood at the gate, "What?" she asked. Amanda looked even more lucid now, Beth noticed again with relief, but she wasn't any making any sense. Not even a bit.

"Amanda—" she started again—but Frankie pushed them out. "This's no time. We need to get out."

Letting out a shaking breath, Amanda nodded, "S-she's right. We—we need to get away first. I'll explain later."

Beth was still holding her tighter, but her steps grew steadier as if she was coming back from the shock, and Beth sent another silent thank you inside—this…this was going to be hard.

They started running towards the road—but Amanda said, shaking her head, "Woods—we need to get into the woods."

Yes. The road was always more dangerous, and it was already night. The moon was rising in the sky too, so Beth knew they would have a bit of light too. Walking in the woods at night was dangerous, but between the two Beth knew which she would always pick.

Aside a gun, and Mark's his own weapons, they had nothing. No food, no shelter, not even water. They needed to go back home. Even though Amanda had said they couldn't. Beth didn't quite understand. They—they had to get back.

The night chill was biting as well, only their dresses on their backs and sheer stockings, but there was no other option. They had to keep up. For a second, Beth caught Amanda's still wet dripping hair, her shivering figure. No. She was going to keep up. They needed to keep up. Beth knew their spur of the moment escape plan wasn't the best laid out plan—but they had made it.

Stumbling with the heels, they left the roadside and entered in the wood line.

Still resting at her side, Amanda then stopped, and put her hand on a tree beside her, and tried to catch her breath, heaving deeply. "Lose the heels—" she told them, trying to bend down to take off her shoes—but still couldn't—she turned around and rested her back against the tree as if the cover herself before she leaned down to take of her shoes.

Kneeling down, Beth tried to help, but Amanda shook her head. "I—I'm fine. I can do it."

Standing up, Beth nodded, but gave her friend a careful look. She was still pale and moist with cold sweat, shivering in the chill worse than them, but her skin was burning. She prayed combined with the night chill her injury wasn't going to cause her a fever. The doctor said if she ran a fever but before the man would've given her pills for fever, they had had to leave. They still had the antibiotics and the antiseptic but if she caught a fever, she would've needed other meds too.

They needed to get back to Alexandria. "Amanda—we need to get back Alexandria."

Amanda shook her head again, holding her shoe in her hands, and tightening her fingers around the heel, she pulled it forcefully to break it from the sole. They all did the same thing, and Amanda stared at the sharp heels in her hand, and a small, soft smile flittered across her lips, "The first time Rick saw me in heels, he told me I could kill walkers with it at least. Foresight," she murmured, and lifting her head she looked at them, heaving again deeply. Her green eyes turned to Beth again, and taking a step forward, she hugged her fiercely. Beth hugged her back, tears filling in her eyes as Amanda whispered at her, "Thank you, thank you, Beth."

Wordlessly, Beth nodded, still holding her friend closer, but Frankie said beside them, "I—we don't have time to thank to each other yet. We need to go. Soon they'll start looking for us."

Beth nodded, walking back from Amanda. "Yeah… we—we—" she started but Amanda cut her off.

"We need to be smart. We can't wander around in the woods like this—" She waved a vague hand at herself and turned to Mark, "Do you have a gun?"

The man nodded, and lifting his shirt off, he showed her his gun. Amanda nodded. "Okay, that's better. We've got one gun, and a couple of sharp heels. Not bad for a start."

"I've got a gun too—" Beth said, lifting her skirt a bit up to show her own gun that tied around her hip, "Took it from Negan."

Another shiver passed through Amanda, but Beth knew this time it wasn't because of the chill. For a moment she looked like the same broken woman Beth had found her back in the room half an hour ago, but she collected herself the second later. "Okay. Even better. But we still need to find more," she said, and Beth cut her in.

"Amanda, why don't we go to Alexandria?"

"We escaped tonight, Beth," Amanda told her slowly, her voice still forming low from her throat, having a rough extent to it—as if she was forcing herself to keep it clear, "Alexandria is the first place they'll come to look for us. I'm sorry. We can't go back. We—we have to find a place and regroup. Then—then we'll figure out some way to contact Rick and Daryl."

"But—"

"No, buts, Beth—" Amanda said, letting out another deep breath, "Please, I'm so…tired. I want to go home, too, but we can't endanger them like that. If we go there, their life will be in danger. This Simon—This Simon can get worse than—" she gulped—before she could say her torturer's name, but didn't manage, "—him. We can't risk it. We have to find another way."

Amber gave her a look, "She—she said we can live with you…?" the blonde girl mumbled.

"You can—" Amanda answered, "Just now right now. We ha—have to—" She paused, her brows tightening, "Dammit! I just can't think properly!" she muttered out under her breath with ire.

Beth took a step closer to her and touched at her upper arm. "Amanda, take it easy—please," she told the older woman, "It's okay. We'll make it. We'll find a way. We escaped."

Looking at her, Amanda nodded, and closed her eyes, breathing again deeply as if concentrate. Then a few seconds later, she cracked them open. "We—we've got a safe house. Rick decided to prepare it in the woods in case of something happens and we need to run off, remember?" Amanda asked then, and Beth remembered. Rick had also wanted to have a place for them to regroup if they ever attacked like at the prison, not wandering away in the woods unprepared like they'd done.

Like they were doing now. Understanding where Amanda was going with it, Beth nodded. "It's much closer to here than Alexandria is, too. It's also got guns, supplies. We go there, get back at our feet, then we'll find a way to warn Rick and Daryl about our whereabouts."

"And then?" Mark asked.

Amanda sighed out again, "I don't know. One step at a time. Our first priority is finding guns and supplies. We can talk the rest at the safe house."

Beth paused for a second, and her eyes wandered around the former wives, "Don't you have your own communities?" Beth asked, but Nicole and Amber shook her head as Mark.

"They found me in the wild—" Amber said as Mark.

And Nicole nodded, "Same here."

Beth looked at Frankie and Tanya, but Frankie shook her head. "They—they killed all of our men when we tried to fight back," Frankie said suddenly, "We barely managed to leave in time."

Beth felt her chest pinched again, understanding Amanda's words better. They—they could not risk their home like that.

She nodded, "Okay, let's get to the safe house, so we could think what to do the next."

They all nodded, Amanda heaving out again laboriously, and started move out in the darkness.

# # #

Cold. It was so cold, she was shivering madly, yet burning with fire.

Her burning skin was wet with perspiration too, and she was catching a cold out here in the late winter night, and she was afraid she wasn't the only one. Each of them was shivering now, even the guy whose face was burned ugly half—and she tried not to think of it—but even in the mess of her mind, connecting the dots were inevitable.

Mark—Amber's lover must've been the reason of the young girl's whimpers, and the half-burned face must have been the punishment the damn bastard had warned her against.

You wouldn't want me to do that, doll… she remembered his words. If only she could erase the sadistic bastard's voice from her every memory—forget about him

Rick…

She needed Rick. She wanted Rick. She really just wanted to go in his arms and forget anything. He would've taken her in his arms, stroked her hair, kissed her lightly—he…he…

You need men like me to take care of you… his voice echoed in her again, but she pushed it away forcefully, only stayed focused on the voice telling her to get up and fight—only Rick's voice. She just didn't want to think any more about her…submissive inclinations, the way even now—she had managed to find Rick in her—giving her a command, how he'd made her held on the bastard and rip his throat apart.

It'd been him—inside her—the roaring beast—it was him. He wasn't with her, but he was also with her. The bastard had been wrong. He—he'd said she'd taken her from Rick—but Rick was always in her. A part of her… his voice in her mind, his babies in her inside.

The bastard's words—they hurt her as much as lashes at her ass—as much as the way she'd ended up begging at him—but the words hurt because—because they were true—like someone really had opened her insides and was dissecting her…and she hated it—she hated it…

You hate to admit it—hate that you want it, but you do, you want it desperately. You can't help yourself. You want to yield. You're begging for it.

Tears filled in her eyes back as she shivered again, and she bowed her head so no one could understand she started crying again. Why—why everything had to be this—complicated?

It…it was wrong…it sounded pathetic. She—she'd felt humiliated when she'd heard the words. When she had screamed the very same things at Rick a few days ago—they'd just flooded out of her—and she let herself go—and even then it'd felt they were playing with fire, and she didn't want to be burned. She'd been so broken after what he'd done to her, even letting the damn bastard caress her hair—laying docile over his lap almost naked at the bottom until he'd called her baby.

With a shiver that passed through all of her insides, she thought what would've happened if—if he hadn't done that—if—if he'd just kept her stroking her—and…and…and would have she let it then?

Let him take care of her?

No! Never! She—she hated men like Negan! They—they were disgusting. They disgusted her. She'd always loved nice men! She—she loved Rick. More than anything in this life.

Then why the hell she'd let that man touch like that—caress her, play with her hair—just sitting over his lap like a good, pretty doll who he'd disciplined.

Her tears fastened so much she swaggered at her feet—shoes with broken heels making it even harder… then she heard snarls—coming from their left side, and she had never been that happy to see rotters before. She turned and her hand fisting around her heel, she rushed toward them.

Plain and simple, killing walkers. How her life was supposed to be.

Being with Rick, having children, being happy, being a family. Plain and simple. Everything else, Amanda was just going to forget.

After the walkers, they walked two or three hours more—she couldn't be sure anymore. She was getting so tired—burning—her bottom aching so bad for a couple of times she just thought to collapse down to catch her breath, but they couldn't stop. They—they needed to get away.

They needed to find a shelter.

She was going back to Rick—she was going to find a way—then—then they would find a way—a way to deal with these bastards—and be happy again. Her hand went her stomach, and she touched her babies—They were going to be happy. She wasn't going to let that bastard's words get the best of her. Amanda wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

Another two hours later, before they all collapsed down with fatigue, they finally found the safe house, the little cabin that had stayed from the old days.

Rick had found it on supply run before and had decided to build it for emergencies. The cabin was pretty deep in the woods, secluded, so it must have safe—though one could've never been sure in these days. They'd been lucky—only had countered walkers a couple of times…in lesser numbers, and no living. The late winter—the chilling air once again was making it safer being outside. No one would've stayed out in this weather if they didn't needed—but that fact also made things harder—because they saw a group in the woods in this weather, Amanda knew they were going to be more savage than usual, having to stay in the woods even in winter.

She raised her hand and stopped them and twisted aside toward Beth. "Beth, gun—" she ordered, holding a hand toward her.

Enough was enough. Beth had already taken enough of risks. She—she needed to protect these people now. She was the police officer.

She took the gun Beth had given to her, and told the other, "Stay here—" She looked at the man, "You're with me. I take the front—you at the back—Beth—you stay at guard," she gave the order and they slowly approached the cabin, Amanda rising the gun higher, emptying her mind from everything but the cabin in front of her.

She grabbed the handle—trying to peek from the windows but Rick had already shut it close—so taking another deep breath, she pushed it open and quickly walked in—taking the first corner first—turning twisting aside quickly seeing it clear and, slowly one step and another, she cleared the hall, two hands on the gun—and suddenly heard a soft cracking.

She spun around on reflex toward the sound, already ready to pull the trigger, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the source of the sound. She stared ahead—couldn't believing what she was seeing.

It couldn't be happening.

Because it was Rick—coming out of another room—his revolver raised toward her at the end of his arm…

"Rick…?" she whispered—shivering again—her resolves crumbling down.

Was…was she turning mad? Started hallucinating him too?

But he was looking at her with the same bewilderment too—those blue, electrical eyes looking at her back… "Rick—" she whispered again, her hands dropping at her sides…

Her tears started running down. He stayed like a stone only for a second longer then, his hand dropping too, he ran to her, and took her in embrace.

Amanda hugged him back fiercely.

She had no idea what was happening, but she didn't care. She was in his arms. Where she belonged. And everything was going to be okay. They—they were together again.

His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist—bringing her closer at himself as Amanda tightened her arms around his neck, her lips already trailing over his neck, kissing him… She—she needed him. She needed him to make her forget everything—

His arms lowered down like each time he did to hoist her up along his body whenever they hugged this fiercely, and he tightened them under her ass—

Pain—a flash of red cut through her insides like lighting—putting her aflame, and she trembled uncontrollably as he lifted her up, her feet hovering over the wooden floor, and before she could stop herself, a groan left her mouth "Ahhh—"

Rick stopped dead, hearing it—understanding her trembling figure. He put her down and pulled an inch, his eyes looking at her questionably. "Amanda—?" He asked, "What happened?"

The questioned turned in her mind as she stared at him. What happened?

She took a step back—No—No… she—she—she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him what had happened. What—what that sick bastard had done to her!

Never.

She—he—he couldn't see her like this.

She just wanted it to end, just be in his arms, and forget everything but seeing him like this, looking at her like this—his blue eyes clenched with confusion and suspicion, she understood it never could be.

He took a step forward to her as she took another back too, and she saw Daryl behind him—Abraham and Sasha and Michonne—they were all here as Beth and the women walked into the room… As she stood there planted on her feet, Beth ran to Daryl and jumped on him, hugging him as tightly as Amanda was supposed to—but she couldn't—she just couldn't do this.

Then—without knowing what else to do, tears welling in her eyes, she turned and ran out of the cabin.


Okay, they finally got back together, Amanda understanding she could not just forget what happened. Her inner struggles about her own self-image and sexuality and needs are getting very completed, but also a good writing example. Hope I'm not screwing it up.

See ya later.