Chapter 2
Mel's POV
Looking over what I managed to accomplish, I start to feel pretty proud of the meal I made. Pot-roast, green beans, and corn bread. It isn't much but this is my first time making a real dinner by myself and I hadn't burnt down the house. I would call that a success.
While everyone is still gathered outside I start to set the table. After what happened at the barn earlier today, Beth seems to have fallen into some kind of catatonic state. I know Maggie is worried for her younger sister but I'm trying to be optimistic that Beth will pull through once she is able to process what happened. Hershel, Glen, and Rick are still missing which has a lot of people worried, myself included. People are already coming up with scenarios of what might have happened to them. I know what dangers are out there but I try not to think about them.
I also try not to think about the fact that I haven't seen Daryl since the funeral. It's not like he owes it to me to check in or anything but I am worried about him. I don't know how close he was to Sophia but he had been out looking for her. Loosing anyone is devastating. I can't even imagine what it is like to lose a child. My train of thought brings me back to yet another issue I have been avoiding and my hand comes up to my stomach. I can't help but wonder if a child might already be growing there.
"Need some help?"
With a startled gasp, I drop the plate I was holding. Luckily, I was holding it over the table so it only fell a few inches and is completely unscathed. Only a few pieces of cornbread managed to escape.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you." I turn to see the woman from earlier standing next to me placing the silverware on the table next to the plates I already set out. I can't remember her name but I can remember the screams she made when her daughter walked out of the barn. "I'm Carol by the way."
"Mel." I offer since I have not spoken to her before now. I want to say that I am sorry for her loss but those words are meaningless to the person grieving. It is nothing more than a way to acknowledge someone's pain and I don't want to do that. If she is anything like me, then you try not to think about things. In hopes that they become nothing more than faded memories until one day you aren't even sure they really existed in the first place.
I'm still working on the first step myself so I'm not sure if it is a proven method of coping.
We finish setting the table in amicable silence then Carol helps me carry out the food I prepared. Now that I See the food on the table, all of the pride I had been feeling starts to falter. It is then that I start to realize that other people are going to eat it. What if it isn't any good? I know I'm not much in the kitchen but I have never cooked for strangers before. If it was my family they would have suffered through my horrible cooking all the while sporting smiles and giving nonstop compliments about how great the food was.
I know in a world where the dead are walking, people probably can't be picky about what they eat but I am still nervous.
"It looks wonderful." Carol says from beside me and I'm not sure if she knows I am having second thoughts or if she just has excellent timing. Either way I appreciate the reassurance.
"Thank you."
Wiping my hands on the apron I'm still wearing I try to remember the last time I have eaten at a table gathered around others. You know, like a civilized person.
It has been a while and oddly enough I find myself looking forward to it. Having a sense of normalcy might do me some good.
I look up as the others start to come inside and I'm introduced to some of the people I haven't met yet. I offer a smile but I don't really hear what is being said to me. I am too busy trying to keep my breathing calm. Being completely surrounded by unknown people is making me nervous and for some reason I seek out Daryl. Hoping that he will be here and I can focus on a face I know, but he is nowhere to be found in the crowded room.
While I am searching for him I do see Shane walk through the door. Our eyes briefly meet and before I can look away he has the nerve to wink at me. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he terrifies me on every level, I turn around and walk into the kitchen. Once I am alone in the room I grab the pitcher of tea I made earlier and allow myself a few deep calming breaths before having to face all those people again. Shane included.
When I return to the dining room a few minutes later Shane is sitting where Hershel normally would. At the head of the table. I want to punch him in his smug face. He knows damn well that if Hershel was here he wouldn't even be allowed into the house after the stunt he pulled earlier today. Yet here he is acting like he has been elected the new head of the household. I haven't been here long enough to know the dynamics of their group but from the small things I have seen so far, Rick is their leader. Even if Shane doesn't want to accept it.
I start to wonder if he has done something to Hershel and Rick. He is way too comfortable sitting where he is and making jokes with people. A smug smile on his face. I hope I am wrong and they are fine because I don't want to be a part of anything Shane is leading. I'd rather take my chances on my own again.
Whenever I look at him a sinking pit starts to form in my stomach. There is no doubt in my mind that he is nothing more than self-serving. He doesn't care about any of the people currently gathered around him. It is all a show and he would have no problem throwing any one of them under a bus if it ultimately benefitted him.
Patricia walking past me on her way to wash her hands brings my attention back to the room. When I look up I see Shane watching me and holding up an empty glass. Signaling that he wants some of the tea I am still holding.
Alright. Well, I guess I'm a waiter now.
I want nothing more than to act like I didn't see him but I also want to take back control of my life again. And I am going to start by refusing to be bullied by the likes of him. My feet are surprisingly steady as I walk across the dining room to fill his glass. I only stand as close as I need to pour the drink giving me enough space to keep my distance from him.
I have the thought that this might be some kind of mind game he is playing but luckily, he doesn't seem too interested in what I am doing. Instead he is talking to Rick's son, Carl.
"Carl. I want you to keep your head up. Your old man is a tough son of a bitch-"
"No cussing in the house." Patricia interrupts him and adds a stern glare to her words.
He nods and I presume that is his form of an apology. I just finished filling his glass and I'm about to walk as far away from him as I can when I feel a soft brush against my arm.
The unwanted touch has me pulling my arm away with such force that the liquid I am still holding splashes all over me.
"Woah now." I hear Shane's voice over the sudden noise filling my own head. "You alright?"
I open my eyes even though I don't remember closing them and see everyone staring at me. Shane seems to be just as shocked as I am. I start to think that I imagined the touch on my arm but I can still feel it like a dull burn. I look around the table to see everyone still watching me with different expressions on their face. Ranging from shock to pity. It is all too much and I mumble what I think is an apology before I quickly make my way out of the room and into the kitchen.
I put the pitcher, which was now mostly empty, on the counter and lean over the sink.
Deep breath in…. deep breath out.
I stay here forcing myself to breath until the trembling in my limbs starts to slow. The tears rolling down my face are the only clue I have that I started crying. They are coming more freely these days and it is to the point that I find myself wiping them off my face without even realizing I started crying in the first place.
I'm sure if I was in the old world I would be put on medication by now but unfortunately things can't be fixed with a simple pill anymore. I am required to deal with it on my own because even in a room filled with people I am still alone.
"Mel." A soft voice comes from the doorway. I quickly wipe the remaining evidence of my breakdown off my face before I turn around. When I do, it is to see Carol standing there holding a plate of food. "If you don't mind would you bring this out to Daryl? He won't eat if someone doesn't make him."
She doesn't try to come closer. Instead, she puts the plate on the counter in front of her and slides it across toward me. Carol understands what it is like to lose so much. To be on that edge of hopelessness. I can see the look in her eyes. It is the same one that stared back at me when I looked in the mirror.
Defeat.
Without waiting for my answer and without another word, she turns around and joins the others back in the dining room. I can hear Shane's voice followed by his thunderous laugh. Suddenly filling sick to my stomach again I grab the plate Carol made and push open the back door. Escaping into the night air.
Now that I have a task that needs to be done I start my search of Daryl. He isn't next to the RV where Rick and the others are camped out at so I scan the farm hoping for some clue of where he is. I'm about to give up when I see the faint light of a campfire fire next to the remains of a plantation house.
It is a good hike but I don't mind. I found the more distance I put between me and the farmhouse full of people the easier it is to breathe. I did wonder why he was camped all the way out here and not with the rest of his group but he did seem like the type that liked his privacy. When I finally make it to what I hope is Daryl's camp, the fire I had been using as a beacon was quickly fading.
There is a tent set up and I suddenly worry that he might be asleep and he might not want to be bothered. He is probably still healing. After all it has only been a couple of days since his whole gunshot ordeal and because of me he has spent those two nights sleeping in a chair instead of in a bed.
I had every intention of turning around and going back but the thought of being trapped in the room makes me stop. Carol said that he wouldn't eat unless someone made him and his body was still healing so he needed food. That is my reasoning of why I continued to walk until I was standing next to the tent.
"Daryl." It was more of a whisper but I have the feeling he is always alert even when he is sleeping.
There is no response and I see that the flap of the tent isn't secure. I push it aside so that I can peek inside to see if he is even in the tent.
There is nothing but an empty sleeping bag and a backpack occupying the two-person shelter. Still holding the plate, I sit down next to what was once the fire. Now it is nothing more than glowing embers. The heat still radiated from the pit though and managed to battle some of the chill in the air I felt.
Picking up a stick I spend some time poking at the bright red pieces of wood. Watching as each time I prodded, specks of orange shot into the sky and danced briefly before burning out. It reminds me of watching fireflies with my sister when we were younger. I remember that I once suggested we use mason jars to catch some but she refused. Insisting that something so beautiful shouldn't be trapped.
The sound of footsteps coming towards me pulls me out of memory lane and has me standing up. I am suddenly uncertain of why I am intruding in Daryl's space. He hasn't invited me here but then I remember the plate of food sitting beside me and pick it up. Holding it out like a peace offering.
When he walks around the tent he seems taken aback by my presence and stops short. He's holding an armful of sticks and lets them drop to the ground.
"What're you doin here?" he asks as he starts to break the larger sticks over his knee.
"Carol asked me to bring you some food." I hold the plate up a little higher as proof of my words.
"Ain't she a peach." I flinch as he basically spits the words at me.
"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you." I find myself placing the offering on the stump before I start to walk in the opposite direction. Back towards the suffocating room.
Daryl's POV
Dammit I didn't mean to scare her but there is no missing the way she jumps when I speak.
I hate that I care. That I am the reason she has a hurt look on her face. I'm not someone she should be around. Honestly after finding Sophia earlier I'm done caring about anyone else. Merle hammered it into me early on that the only people who mattered were us. I need to remember that.
And yet, despite all that I still open my mouth to talk.
"What happened to ya?"
I hold my breath until she stops walking and turns around. I nod my head at the light blue shirt she is wearing. Parts of the shirt have turned a darker blue and I can see several outlines of brown stains splattered all over the garment.
Her eyes go down to see what I am looking at and she pulls the bottom of her shirt out so that she has a better view of the damage.
"It's nothing. Just an accident." The sigh and the way she is trying to scrub the shirt doesn't make it seem like it is nothing but I would drop it if she wanted.
"How's your friend?"
She stops trying to clean her shirt and looks back up. "Beth? She is the same. Maggie thinks it might be shock. I guess Rick and Glen went to find Hershel but they aren't back yet."
I nod as I throw the last of the firewood on the fire. Lori had come to me earlier asking me to go fetch her husband. Like I was at her beckoned call. Hell, the only time the uppity bitch talked to me was to ask me for something. Like I said, I am done with these people. They are nothing but drama.
The girl is still standing there so I grab the plate she brought up for me. Using my hands, I pick up a piece of the meat and take a bite.
"Je-Jesus" I manage to say in between a coughing fit. I grab my canteen of water and take a long sip.
"Sorry." I watch as she nervously plays with her hands clearly upset, "I accidentally spilt more salt then I wanted on the roast. I thought I washed it all off before I cooked it."
"Apparently not." I say as I take another drink. Hoping to drown the overwhelming taste out of my mouth.
What did she do spill the whole damn can of salt?
Mel's POV
I knew I should have tasted the food before serving it. Now everyone is probably eating the roast and talking about me. The only reason I even care is because these people know nothing about me except what has happened to me. So, there was no telling what they are going to say.
Everyone knows. I'm not stupid. I heard them whispering when I walked by: "That poor girl", "She's so young". It is impossible to forget things when is was the only thing people see when they look at you.
"Cornbread's good."
"What?" His words stopped the spiral I was beginning to fall down. When I look at his face I see that Daryl doesn't look at me the way the others do. He doesn't see me as that one defined thing.
"You make the cornbread?" I nod as he takes another bite "Not bad."
"Thanks." I find myself smiling at the compliment and I even walk back toward the fire. I sit down opposite him with the flames between us. He looks even harsher with the glow of the fire highlighting his face but I don't feel that bubble of panic I am starting to grow used to.
I watch in horror as he picks up another piece of tainted meat like he is going to eat it.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Wasn't that bad." He shrugs and continues to bring it up to his mouth.
"Wasn't that bad? You almost choked to death." I reach over and grab a piece from his plate and take my own bite.
As soon as it hits my tongue I spit it out.
"That's awful! Don't eat that." I take the container of water he offers me and I see what I think might be the resemblance of a smile on his face. I would call it more of a smirk but I find myself laughing at my failed attempt at cooking for the first time.
I haven't laughed since that night. It feels good to laugh. I have Daryl and my lack of cooking skills to thank.
Of course, the rare feeling doesn't last because I hear an engine of a car coming our way. We both stand up watching as the car races away from the farmhouse and toward the main road. I was barely able to see Shane sitting in the driver's seat from all the dust he was kicking up from the dirt road.
I'm curious where he is headed in such a hurry but I am gladder to see him go.
"I should head back." I don't want to overstay my welcome and Daryl is probably tired of dealing with me. Plus, the house doesn't seem as bad now that Shane is no longer occupying it.
"I'll go with you. See what's going on." I watch as he grabs his crossbow and dumps a bucket of water on the fire. The hiss of steam rising and joining the night's air breaks the silence.
When we get back to the house I go to check on Beth. Her door is open but she is still lying in bed. The exact same way I left her in earlier.
Her blue eyes are open and fixated on the ceiling above her. The only movement and sign of life is her chest rising slowly up and down and her eyes occasionally blinking. It is incredible what your body will do in its attempt to protect you.
Harmony had been in a state like this after what happened to us but it wasn't this severe. It got to the point that she no longer resembled my sister at all. She would walk and nod when I asked her a question but everything else was shut down. My sister hadn't been able to handle what happened to her and in the end neither could daddy.
I hold Beth's hand hoping to focus on the girl in front of me. Then I found myself praying to a God, that I'm not sure is even listening, that Beth would pull through.
I must have made it back to my room at some point because I woke up alone and under the blankets of my bed. My hand now clutching Daryl's vest instead of Beth's hand.
I 'm still thankful to see that my nightmares are taking a break and have stayed at bay since arriving at the farm. I want to believe that it is because nothing bad can break through a place so beautiful but then I remember Beth lying in the room down the hall from me.
The first thing I do is walk to where she is. Maggie and Patricia are looking over her but Beth hasn't improved.
"How is she?" I ask.
"Dehydrated." Patricia looks physically drained as she speaks. "I'll set up an IV but without Hershel it's the best I can do."
Patricia leaves the room to get the items she needs to start Beth on an IV. Leaving me alone with Maggie.
"Can I get you anything?" I ask in an attempt to feel useful.
"No. I just want daddy to come back."
"He will. We just have to be strong for Beth until she pulls through." I have no doubts that she will.
Maggie turns to me and offers up a sad smile, "I was just reminding her of the time she and Harmony caught me with Jimmy Novak in the barn one night."
I returned her smile with one of my own, "I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing that story."
"Figures. They promised not to tell a soul." I can do nothing but watch as Maggie brushes a strand of Beth's blonde hair off her face before continuing. "My first summer back from college and Jimmy drove me home since I didn't have a car and we both went to Georgia Southern. When we got here daddy and them weren't home yet. You might recall I was a little wild then and I got it in my head that I needed to repay him for his troubles. Plus, you remember how good lookin he was in that football jersey?" I nod remembering the former quarterback for our high school "Well we went out to the barn and things started to get a little heated. I guess at some point daddy and the girls came back from bible study and Harmony was going to spend the night. They saw my bags in my room and went looking for me. Beth figured I was in the stables and she was right. I was about to take my shirt off when the next thing I knew I had two teenage girls screaming and running toward where I was on the floor all the while hitting poor Jimmy."
We both laugh as she retells the story
"Luckily things hadn't gotten too far between us but I swear he fell from the hayloft straight to the ground and didn't stop running until he was in his car."
The story brings me mixed emotions. I did love hearing someone else's memory of my sister because it was proof that she had been real and that others remember her. On the other side a sharp pain started in my chest every time Maggie would say her name.
I head back to my room and take up my spot in the corner of the bed. The now familiar piece of leather is once again in my hands. My fingers tracing the outline of the angel wings like it is an old friend. I try to figure out the fascination I had with it but for the life of me I couldn't make the connection. The leather is worn and smooth to the touch. The stitching is coming apart in several places and yet even damaged it manages to keep me captivated.
A floor board squeaking brings my attention to the door. Daryl is standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.
"Headed out to look for Hershel. You good?"
"Yeah." I answer.
With another one of his nods, he turns and starts to walk down the hallway.
"Wait." I say and I realize it sounds more frantic than I intended but he still stops and looks at me. "I -uh. Can I have my knife back?"
After Daryl went back to his tent last night I heard Shane return. I quickly realized how alone I was with Daryl and Hershel gone. I know it isn't their job to protect me but I feel safe with them around. Last night I stayed with Beth worrying if every sound I heard was actually someone that wanted to hurt me.
Before handing me my knife I see him watch my face. He is probably looking for any sign that I want to use the blade to hurt myself.
I don't. I just want something so that I feel a little more secure even when I am alone. I can't live my life relying on others to keep me safe.
He must approve of what he sees because he finally hands me the knife hilt first.
"Thank you." I tuck it under my pillow and watch as he leaves again.
I want to tell him to be careful but what good is that going to do? He is more than capable of handling himself and my words aren't going to change that. However, I do find myself looking out the window of my room and I watch as Shane finishes packing the car. I think it is strange that Shane wants to go look for Rick and Hershel since I know he is perfectly fine without them being here.
Without them he thinks he is the leader and I don't think he would fancy having to step down and fall back in line when the others returned.
The roar of an engine stops what everyone is doing and I see a red bronco making its way toward the farm. I know it is Hershel's car. He would drive that thing everywhere around town. It isn't long before what I thought is confirmed and Hershel, Rick, and Glen exit the beat-up truck. I stand watching from the sidelines as everyone is reunited with the people they love.
The exact words are silenced from the glass of the window which muffled any sounds from reaching the second story but I am still happy to see the reunion. I'm happy that Hershel and the others have made it back and I'll admit that I am a little happy that Daryl doesn't have to leave the farm.
It's not there is anything good out there anyway.
I start to get confused as everyone gathers around the backseat of the truck. From my angle, I'm not able to see anything other than the back of everyone's head. Whatever is in the car seems to be causing trouble because everyone is yelling and pointing. Curiosity is about to win out and I am about to head downstairs so I can see what everyone is looking at when Daryl and T-Dog pull someone out from the back seat. The face is covered by a bag but from the body I know it is a man under the hood.
He is limping as the two men push him toward the small shed next to the barn.
Daryl's POV
I have no damn clue what was going through Rick's mind when he decided to bring this guy back to the farm. I know I brought the girl back without approval but she hadn't been firing a gun trying to kill me seconds before I decided to save her. Which according to Glen, was what this guy was doing right before he took a quick tumble off a roof and onto the pointy end of a wrought iron fence.
"He's a heavy son of 'a bitch." I say to T-Dog as we both struggle to keep the unconscious guy upright.
Patricia and Hershel are rushing around the small space trying to set up a makeshift operation room. I personally feel like we shouldn't be wasting all of this medical stuff on someone we don't know. Not when we have at least one pregnant woman, Lori, in the group.
Not to mention that at the rate everyone keeps putting themselves in danger it is only a matter of time before another serious injury occurs within our ranks.
What if we use everything on this piece of shit and someone we actually care about dies because of it?
But no one asked me my opinion.
"Lay him down here." Hershel points to a rusty rolling cart and T-Dog and I maneuver the dead weight over and we try our best to lay him down gently.
Patricia immediately pulls the bag that is been covering his face off and replaces it with an oxygen mask. He is no more than a kid. Doesn't look more than nineteen maybe twenty.
"Tell me when your done I'll tie him up." I offer as I walk out of the barn so Hershel can work.
Mel's POV
The floral print wallpaper is starting to give me a headache.
After rolling up the vest I slide it under my pillow and feel something that I somehow almost forgot about. My fingers grasp it hesitantly. You would think it is a snake I am touching by the way I'm acting. I check to make sure my door is still closed before I finally pull the small package out from under the pillow and into plain sight.
Without looking at it, I stand up and slide the test into my pocket then open my door. Surprisingly I am pretty calm. I think it is because I'm still not certain I am going to go through with taking the test. The bathroom is unoccupied and I go inside, shutting the door behind me.
I stand here frozen with my back against the door for what feels like hours. Completely afraid to move. All the while the item in my pocket seems to grow heavier by the second. Just begging to be used. My hands finally realize the turning point my life is at and start to shake as I make up my mind.
It's amazing how something so small has the power to change my life forever. I debate if I should just put it back in its hiding place because what good is knowing going to do? I am either pregnant or I'm not and there is nothing that this stick can do to change that. All it will do is confirm it either way.
My hands are fumbling in their attempt to open the thin plastic wrapper until finally they succeed. I check the door for the third time to make sure the door is still locked. Then, not finding another way to stall, I move toward the toilet and start to unbutton my jeans. I don't have the directions on how to use the thing but from everything I have seen on television and in movies it seems simple enough.
It's done but I still refuse to look at the stupid little stick. It is just sitting on the counter next to the sink and here I am sitting on the floor staring up at it still trying to work up the nerve to read the results.
I'm faintly aware that someone is knocking on the door and rattling the old metal knob. There is another bathroom they can use if they need to. Don't they know my future depends on a piece of plastic?
"Mel?"
I continue to ignore them. I think the voice belongs to Carol's but I'm not sure. I don't care.
"Honey open the door. You are scaring people."
Still don't care. I'm relieved as I watch her feet from the space under the door leave my sight. I know it wouldn't be long before the next person comes to the door in an attempt to make sure I am okay.
I'm out of time. Slowly I gather the strength I need to push myself off the floor. My arms are shaking under my own weight and with one last deep breath I force myself to look at the results.
Daryl's POV
"What do you mean she won't come out?" I ask Carol.
"Exactly what I said. She has locked herself in the upstairs bathroom and won't come out. She won't even answer me."
Before the woman has the chance to finish her last sentence I'm already running back into the house. My feet take the stairs two at a time as fear pushes me faster. I ignore all the shouts of concern from the others as I run past them.
When I gave her the knife back I thought she was fine. What if I was wrong?
The thought of what might be on the other side of the door has me kicking at it before I even try the doorknob. On the third kick the old wood splinters and the door pushed open giving me access inside.
It's empty.
I was already working on an apology for Hershel about the door when I hear muffled crying. The shower curtain is pulled closed but the sounds are definitely coming from the other side.
Slowly I pull the plastic back to reveal the girl sitting in the dry tub, fully clothed. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and her head is buried into her knees. A messy curtain of auburn hair shielding her face.
"Daryl." Carol calls my name and I look over at her. It takes me a second to realize what she is holding but when I do I quickly figure out it is a pregnancy test. The word 'Pregnant' in purple letters faces looks back at me.
"Shit" I breathe and start rubbing my hands over my face. My first thought is to run away. I only need to look after myself. None of this is my problem.
But the muffled sniffling is becoming full blown crying and I know I can't leave her. I reach down but as soon as I touch her arm she throws herself backwards, slamming her head against the tiled wall behind her.
"GET AWAY FROM ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" She's screaming and slapping my hands away. I let her because I know she is feeling a pain I can't begin to imagine.
After a while she starts to exhaust herself and the desperate screams die back down to soft crying. Her arms are limp at her side. This is when I decide to pick her up. Sliding one arm under her back and the other under her knees. She weighs practically nothing. I expected more fighting from her but the only movement she makes is when her arms lock around my neck and she clings to me. Her crying is being muted by my shirt.
Of course, everyone has decided that this is somehow their business and are all gathered in the hallway. I turn in a way I hope is shielding her from all the nosey on lookers. This is her hurt and she doesn't need to share it with all of these people.
Carol follows until the girl and I are inside her room then she shuts the door behind us. Shutting everyone else out. I lay her on the bed and she instantly turns to her side so that she is facing the wall. Putting her back to me. Curled into herself like she is trying to turn her her body into the tiniest ball she can. She hasn't stopped shaking and I'm not sure if it is because she is cold or if it is just from her crying.
I don't know what to do. I have never been in a situation like this before. Maybe I should grab Carol and have her come in here. I find myself going to the door three times before I stop myself. Each time I never advance past touching the door knob. As uncomfortable and useless as I feel right now a part of me doesn't want to leave her.
My hands run over my face like they can erase what is happening but when they fall away nothing has changed.
I sit in the chair that might as well be my second home and listen as her soft cries continue to fill the room. My chest grows tighter with each sob.
Mel's POV
I don't know what to do. A part of me wishes that my body would diagnose how much trouble I am in. Maybe double its efforts to protect me. Just allow me the pleasure to shut down like Beth did.
But in what I can only assume is some sick attempt to drive me insane, my mind is instead working overtime. Managing to pull up every thought and image it can possibly think of to push me further over the edge.
I cry until I feel hollow. It's like the well has simply run dry. There is nothing left. It doesn't matter because even with all the crying I still don't feel any better. Picking up the tear stained pillow I throw it off the bed.
I don't even remember how I got here or how long I have been sitting in this room. The only clue I have of what time it is, is the pink light flooding my room as the sun makes its way below the horizon. Casting its dying light on the two things that were hiding under my pillow.
Daryl's vest and my daddy's knife.
I stare at the two objects as I lay on my side. I can choose either one right now. Gradually my hand goes toward the blade. I have seen it hanging off my daddy's belt since I was a child and never once had I thought it was anything special. My fingers hover over the textured handle. This is the last physical thing I have of his. Everything else is lost.
My mouth feels dry and I know what I am doing. If I pick up that knife then I can end my problems and there is the possibly that I will see my family again. I think about it for a long while. It is the easier route and even though it might hurt for a little bit in the end I wouldn't feel pain ever again.
Pain to end pain.
Clenching my fist as an inhuman noise leaves my throat I reach up and grab Daryl's vest. In doing so I abandon all thoughts of giving up. I don't run my fingers over it like I normally do. Instead I just bring it up to my face and feel the leather against my wet cheek.
Numbness starts to set in as the room becomes dark. I don't move. I don't do anything but stare at the godawful wall. Patterned pictures of magnolias surrounded by a deep burgundy cover the entire thing. Every wall in this room has the same suffocating thing repeated over and over again.
I hate it.
I hate everything about this room. I sit up and grab the lamp that sits on the side table next to me. I feel the weight in my hand and take a second to admire the glass etching circling the base. Some artist spent a lot of time putting those small details into it.
I hate how pretty it is.
With a grunt, I throw it across the room and listen as the satisfying sound of it shattering fills the perfect space. I don't want to be in a room that is perfectly made. I don't belong here. I grab the next thing on the nightstand and don't even bother looking at it before I toss it. Then the next and the next.
When the nightstand is empty I get off the bed and turn the table itself over. Then I start to scream as I pull the blanket and sheets off the bed. I scream until my throat is raw. I want to share with the room all of the anger I have. I want to make it understand.
My life wasn't supposed to turnout this way.
Harmony didn't deserve what happened to her.
I don't deserve what happened to me.
I've done everything I was told. I tried to be a role model. I followed rules. When you do those things you are supposed to get rewarded.
One last scream and I fall to my knees. My breathing too fast and my heart pounding in my chest.
I see movement from the corner of the room but my fight or flight senses don't care. I just stay here waiting until the thundering in my ears starts to calm down.
"You done?" I know that voice. It's Daryl.
I should be ashamed for throwing a tantrum like I just did but I don't have it in me.
My head stays bowed but I nod my response.
"I-I can't stay in this room anymore. This house." I manage to say between my struggles to bring air into my lungs.
His boots leave my field of vision and I hear him walk toward the door.
"C'mon."
I look up and see him standing at my only exit. What is he saying? What does he want me to do? He jerks his head toward the door and I make myself stand up. My legs are shaky but I force them to take those first few steps.
A familiar black piece of leather is crumpled on the floor and I bend down to pick it up before I follow Daryl out of the suffocating room.