Chapter 30
Where You Are
That evening we had dinner as usual. The meal remained strangely quiet all throughout it, with the only sounds being our forks clinking against the dishes as we ate in silence. Dad's face was down, no doubt thinking over the events of the last few days. I too was speechless, my mind in the same area his probably was.

After the dishes, we went straight to bed, unwilling to really stay up to talk or listen to Bianca while we relaxed with the projects tended to after the sun had gone down.

I took my time using the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face carefully. For about the hundredth time I turned to glance at the bandages covering my stitches. I hadn't gotten a proper look at them since the first time they were bound and I didn't dare unwrap them without help. Still, I was at least able to trace them carefully. I could feel them under the cloth and was curious about how they looked now. My mind ran over the comments Negan made earlier today.

Would I have a scar? Despite his creepy jabs I really did hope I'd get a cool scar from all this, one I could brag about someday.

Michonne normally helped me change them and since we had no professionally prepared antibiotics to ward away infection or pain, we were left with a homemade aloe and witch hazel salve to sterilize them. I had to lie on my stomach whenever it was applied and it killed horribly every time, but only for a few seconds before it was overcome by an icy tingle. It really wasn't too bad once we got passed the first few seconds.

As hard to move as it was, it looked like I was healing rather well according to Doctor Carson when he checked on them back at Hilltop with my father's insistence.

I pulled my night shirt back down once again and left the bathroom, only my feet didn't take me to my bedroom. Instead, I hovered outside Dad and Michonne's room, listening to them talk. I couldn't expect Dad to not tell Michonne the unbelievable news. Maybe leave Carl out of the loop—to protect him—but not Michonne. Dad told Michonne everything and she knew how to keep secrets well. She would never breathe a word to anyone.

It felt wrong to exclude Carl so deeply but it was for his own good. The fewer people to know these things the better. Of course, in the back of my mind that was just to quell the surge of guilt than to admit it was dishonest and unfair. Still, we would need to disclose it to him soon otherwise he would be hurt worse the longer he was kept ignorant. I put that out of my mind for a moment while I continued to listen.

"I can't believe the answer, the solution to all this… it's been with us this whole time," My dad told his wife, "…in her. It shouldn't be possible. It's too insane. Too ironic and easy and… unexpected. I mean… how? Why? After all this time, all this death and pain? Why give this to us now?"

"I don't know."

There was a long moment of silence and I entertained the image of Michonne maybe embracing my father from behind and holding him as she rested her cheek against his strong back.

"It's always been strange with her. Sometimes I really don't know whose child she is."

My heart leapt into my throat by his words, but I just told myself it wasn't anything I didn't already know. I pressed harder against the door.

"I look at her and I see Lori in her face and eyes, but she doesn't look like her… not really. Sometimes she talks like how Shane used to talk back before all of it. But then she'll say something that'll sound like what I'd say." His voice was low and I had to press my ear right up against the keyhole to hear it better. "I don't know why I've been given her. Sometimes it feels like a greater force is trying to mock me through her. Ghosts and dead men, secret gardens, witches, and now a cure?" There was a weighted silence and it seemed like he'd paused to stare off in thought as he all but whispered into the darkness. "What is she, Michonne?"

To that Michonne actually had an answer. "She's our daughter." The woman answered. "She's your daughter. She's my daughter. She's Carl's sister. She's ours. That's what she is. And that's what she'll always be first."

My heart soared by those words. I had never been so moved by something Michonne had said and my throat tightened by the beauty of it. Despite all the secrets I kept they still looked at me as they always have. An enormous weight lifted from my shoulders by the confirmation and I pressed closer to listen more.

"Who else knows?" Michonne asked.

"I'm not sure. Only Carson, David and Jesus know about the cure. Thankfully David doesn't know how he was given it. I think Aaron and Enid think she's just able to divert them, though. We need to keep it as secret as we possibly can."

"All our secrets eventually are discovered, no matter how careful we are. Others will come for her." Michonne interrupted solemnly. "The Saviors and Negan will learn about her and come to take her away. Are you going to let that happen?"

"Negan's taken our food, our supplies, and our weapons and hell our dignity, but he is not taking her." He growled resolutely. "I have to find somewhere safe and I need to take her there myself. And I think I have someplace in mind."

"Where?"

I could almost hear the hopeful smile in his voice. "Maybe the kingdom will help in that regards."

I couldn't leave. I wouldn't. Sometime in the night the full weight of my importance hit me. Now that I understood why I was like this I realized now the whole extent of use I could be to everyone. I could go in places other people couldn't and get us supplies that were otherwise completely cut off to us. I could travel far through whole herds of thousands of walkers and comeback with the treasures and riches of the old world. And if anyone was ever bitten my blood would save them. There was no longer any need to watch as our people died or lost limbs. Everyone would be taken care of.

All night the only thoughts I could think about was the use I could be to everyone. My own safety hardly mattered if it meant I could do more for my people. I could do much more for them and I addressed the issue the next morning with my parents.

"Dad, Michonne, I want to talk to you both about something."

"We wanted to talk with you, too."

I shook my head before he started. "I know what you're going to say. You want to send me away." They looked startled momentarily that I'd discovered their intentions, but I continued before they could regain their thoughts. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm not going. I can't. Now that you know I'm like this and why I'm like this I want to do more. I should be used more."

Dad looked shocked by my wording. "You want to be used?"

"Yes Dad. I should be used more for the benefit of our people. I can go in more places that were otherwise cut off to others because of walkers. I can get us better supplies and tools maybe even find more livestock."

"No." Dad said without even considering the possibilities. "We aren't risking your life like that. We're well provided for here enough as it is. We don't need anything that's worth putting you at risk."

I was stunned by those words. He'd been presented with an enormous advantage, and he didn't even want to use it?

"Oh yeah?" I fired back quickly. "What about medicine? Antibiotics? Tools and weapons? Machines? And I still need to fetch something incredible for that fucking overlord, otherwise he's going to take one of the Waifs back and hurt them!" I challenged. "In Washington there's a plethora of all of that, but no one can go near it because of the army of the dead. No one except me. I can be in and out and get as much stuff as we need."

"No, you can't!" He insisted firmly. "That place is impenetrable. That army won't let anyone through."

"They'll let me through. Think about it. They don't want to get near me, Dad. I'm the only one who can—"

"No!" He nearly shouted leaping to his feet so fast he knocked over his chair. "This whole business has got you thinking you're somehow invincible! You're not special, Judith. You're just arrogant and it's going to get you killed if I don't step in."

My throat tightened by those words from him but I shoved through it getting to my feet as well. "And you're small-minded and a coward!" I blurted back my voice rising with his.

"Judith!" Michonne cried, stepping in by my outburst, but I didn't let her continue.

"You don't want to take risks anymore, even if it saves us!" I yelled. "Mrs. Byron has cancer. She's dying and we could get the things to save her."

"Mrs. Byron is old! It's just her time."

"That's bullshit!" I blurted.

"Watch your mouth!"

But I went on. "Well what about when it's someone else's time, huh? What then? What if Carl or Tanti or Mari or Luis gets sick and we can't help them because we don't have the proper supplies? What if we can find more than just tools. What if there's people—survivors? They could be stuck and just waiting for someone to find them. There could be doctors, engineers, scientists! Aren't they worth something? Shouldn't we risk it for them?"

"NO! WE WILL NOT!" His words were a roar and there was something in his eyes by that declaration; a sort of unhinged madness echoing through images of terror and turmoil from shadowy memories. My mouth snapped shut and the room was silent while both Michonne and I stared at him. I could barely see his face while his hair shadowed his wide wild eyes. Then he began again in a guttural hush.

"The worst thing I could imagine is finding survivors in that place because if they've lived this long it's because they've managed to do unforgivable things—things you can't possibly imagine, Judith. You're… you're too young. You're too young and good to possibly understand."

I glared, far from swayed or terrified by those words. "Too young to understand that some people take advantage of other people? Too young to understand that some people dominate other people? Too young to understand that some people torture other people? Or too young to understand that some people eat other people?"

He stared back at me in anguish, they both did.

"I'm probably very naïve about a lot of things, but I'd like to think I'm not completely clueless about cruelty."

"Judith," it was Michonne that spoke this time her voice heavy and imploring, as if she was desperately wishing me to understand what they were trying to say. "You are just too young. You're our baby."

"I'm not a baby!" I snapped, my voice tightening and tears stinging my eyes by her tenderness. "I'm… not a child!"

"You are a child. That's all we ever wanted for you. We want you to have a childhood. We want you to live long and happy, free of fear and strife as much as we can give it to you. You don't have to push yourself for us. You don't have to sacrifice for us."

"Yes, I do!" I cried back, the tears coming to my eyes at last. Why couldn't they understand? Why couldn't they just take what I was trying to give them? "You're… everyone… is my people. I have to take care of you."

The kitchen was silent once more.

"You don't have to do anything for us, Judith. You don't need to take care of us." Michonne said and it was like a plea. "You don't need to worry about us. We're not worth it. Please… just… stop this."

"…I can't." I explained, angry frustrated tears sliding down my face. "I can't stop worrying. Sometimes I want to so bad. I even try not to, but I just can't… any more than you can." I looked towards them and they each had identical looks of confusion and worry. They were trying so hard to understand, I knew they were, but they still didn't get it. So, I tried harder to explain. "Everyone doesn't want me straining myself or worrying so much about them. It's not my place. I'm just a kid. Everyone thinks I should be playing. They want me to. That's what everyone always tells me, but has anyone ever considered that this just might be the way I play?"

"Judith…"

"I'm not stupid; I know I'm different from the other kids—in more ways than one! But I can't change myself and… I don't think it's fair to ask me to, especially when all I want to do is work to help our people."

"I still can't let you do it." Dad said. "Supplies are important, but you're more important—to us at least."

I glared back at him. "I think the town should be more important, that's what makes you a poor leader, Dad. You can't value our lives over everyone else's. You just can't!"

He and Michonne once more shared identical looks of shock with my statement and I used that distraction to leave. I didn't care if it got me in trouble and I didn't care if they were calling me back. I was just so angry about being immediately shut down. They didn't even try to understand or imagine the good I could do for everyone. They just wanted to keep me shut up and safe forever behind these walls.

But who wanted to live like that?

Angry about their decision there was only one place I wanted to be right now.

"Eugene, can you open the gate for me?"

The man on duty looked hesitant about the idea. "I'm sorry, Miss Grimes, but you know the rules, I'm afraid that children…"

"You know I go out there all the time even without an escort or partner!" I snapped at him. Normally I was never so rude but after the argument with my parents I was in no mood to tolerate anyone's patronizing. "Everyone does, already! I am the single person who is the least at risk outside these walls, so you can either let me out here or I'll climb the walls later. You know perfectly well that I can and will. Least this way you know where I went."

He looked speechless and very much taken aback. Then his brow lowered attempting something that barely resembled an authoritative tone. "Miss Grimes, as the guard on duty I'm in charge of who comes and…"

I puffed up to my full height and looked him square in the eye, lowering my voice commandingly. "Eugene. Open. The. Gate."

It's still not completely clear to me why exactly he stepped aside and drew back the bars for me. Any other adult probably wouldn't have taken such lip or demands from a kid, but Eugene had always been frightened and ordered about easily. In my darkest moments, I was guilty to admit I hated him for such weakness and even thought him pathetic at times. Yeah, he was smart, maybe he was one of the most valued minds in town, but he was spineless and weak.

In the back of my mind I carried a deep grudge for him. He was the one that sold the others out that night—that ultimately sold us to the Saviors, because for one moment he tricked the others to think he was brave when he wasn't.

People like that pissed me off!

There was so much anger inside of me right now that the only thing that I was sure would calm it was the quiet and seclusion in the forest. As nice as it was to enjoy the peace I wasn't really looking to be alone, so I decided to go to the island where I could speak to an actual friend.

I sat in sullen silence in one of the old garden chairs while Vanessa lounged in the opposite one with me. We were both quiet while I fumed about the events of the morning and past few days. She didn't seem inclined to interrupt or add anything for conversation until she said, out of nowhere, "Tell me a story, Beetle."

I wasn't in the mood for stories or talking, though.

"Once upon a time I hated being ten years old. It was the worst age in the world. The end!"

"Oh, I'd yank off my own nails to be able to be ten again." She responded easily. "I think you're just being a bit melodramatic."

"Am I?" I snapped furiously. "No one takes me seriously, my dad treats me like a statue of glass, the people in town look at me like some kind of time bomb, and I can't do anything for anyone! The only one that lets me do anything is that swine-ass overlord and I hate him so much it almost kills me! Oh and now I guess I have to find something fucking incredible for him so he doesn't cart off one of the only innocent people in town back to his house of horrors where he can do god-knows-what to them!"

Vanessa's brow went up in surprise by my outburst. With her expression, I drew away in shame and tried to amend my rant.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult, I'm just so angry about everything. I want to be used more often for our people but Dad just doesn't see the good I could do. He's so afraid someone else will find out and hurt me for it. I get what he's saying and I'd be dumb if I didn't worry about that, too, but I'd rather be using it frequently than being held up somewhere and not being useful for anything at all and then have somebody find out anyways."

"I can see how frustrating that is." Vanessa answered.

"What would you do, Vanessa?" I asked, deeply needing some sage advice. "If you were me, what would you do?"

"Me? I'm not quite sure. Sometimes it's best to listen to those who watch over you. They've suffered many trials to keep you safe, after all."

"I know." I said quietly looked towards a line of ants. I studied the leader as it led the way to a squashed peach on the ground. "They're good people and they'll do what they need to make sure I'm safe, but… now it's my turn to keep them safe. They've been through enough. If I have the power to help them, don't you think I should use it?"

She smiled and looked up at the sky whimsically. "I think you are very wise to see where your help is needed most, but you are very young. You know more beyond your years and that may have made you a bit arrogant in ways. I fear your eagerness to leap into things could lead to a rash decision soon. However, I am confident that when the time comes, you will do what you believe is right, and if you can live by that, it will never lead you astray."

Her words made me feel better about things, though I did feel a little stung for being called arrogant twice in one day by two different people. Was I really arrogant? I kept my gaze down at the ants as they piled up onto the peach.

Maybe I was.