Chapter 3
Daryl's POV
I am quickly becoming familiar with the feeling of complete and utter uselessness.
It. Pisses. Me. Off.
I just sat back and watched as the girl destroyed the room. I probably should have stopped her but I'd rather her break a few things then do what she had thought about doing. I had silently watched the battle she had with herself about the knife. Watched as her hand was hovering over it and damn near let out the breath I had been holding when she grabbed my vest instead. I couldn't tell her what the right choice was, she had to decide on her own.
She did.
I don't know why I care so much but my eyes keep going back to her to make sure she is okay. I see she is still holding the vest. Her fingers rubbing along the edge and her eyes focused on the fire in front of her like she is in some trance. At least her eyes are no longer red and her cheeks no longer tear stained. I don't know why I brought her out here. Well, other than the fact that she sounded like she was in physical pain when she said she couldn't be in that room or house anymore. I understood where she was coming from on that end at least.
Having all those walls and people around you can be suffocating.
"Get some sleep" I nod toward my tent set up behind her.
Her eyes never break away from the fire as she shakes her head dismissing me.
What the hell was I doing? I should be worrying about taking care of myself. Not some girl I just met.
All of my life it has always been just me and Merle, we didn't need anyone else. I knew my brother was the only one to give a damn about me. Everyone else saw us Dixons as garbage. Hell, they were probably right. We never gave them any reason to think otherwise.
Once again I find my eyes drawn upward and studying the face of the girl sitting across from me. I notice the soft light from the fire causes her to look even more delicate. The dark circles under her eyes make them seem more sunken in, the once vibrant green now seemed dull and her cheekbones more prominent.
She's on the verge of giving up I can see it in her face.
I run my hands over my face out of frustration. Merle's deep voice sounds from the back of my head telling me to forget her, she's nothing to us but for the first time in my life I ignore him. He's looked after me my entire life but he isn't here now. I don't know the first damn thing about babysitting someone but I do know she and I are both alone.
Mel's POV
I miss my family. It's not the first time since I lost them that I wish they were still here but for the first time in my life I don't have my support system. No matter what was happening I could always go to Harmony or daddy and after talking to them I knew everything would be okay.
Not now. Not this time.
Even knowing that Daryl is sitting near me I still feel alone.
I am too horrified to face reality head on. I can't. Not after finding out what I did.
So I sat focusing on the fire Daryl had made, I know it is more for my benefit than his, and I let my mind wander. It can do whatever it wants as long as it kept blessing me with this veil of numbness that had settled over me as soon as I followed Daryl out of that room.
As I gust of wind blows I think about the volatile relationship fire and wind have. Wind should be fires worse enemy and at times it is. Like the flame on a birthday candle, one puff of air from a child and the light is extinguished.
But when the fire is strong enough it becomes a different story. I think about the beginnings of a wildfire in California when the wind blows it only excites the fire causing it to fight back. Mocking what is trying to snuff it out. With each blow of the wind the fire grows proving that the wind is only fueling its fight. Until it ultimately destroys everything in its path.
I wanted to be like that wildfire. No matter how hard the wind blew I wanted to fight back but I wasn't kidding myself I was nothing more than the birthday candle and at the rate things were going I was going to give in sooner rather than later.
Just like my sister and father did.
"Let's go." The clipped command takes me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed that Daryl was standing beside me until I look up just in time to see him start walking toward the woods. Further from the house.
A short debate starts up in my mind. Do I want to follow him?
Ultimately curiosity and the fact that I don't think I can sit here by myself without my problems making a reappearance in my mind has me standing and following after him.
The sun is barely starting to rise above the pine trees. I shiver, now that the fire is no longer fighting back the chill from the night before I feel exposed. Without thinking I take the vest that I have grown so attached to and put it on. It doesn't offer much protection from the cold. The vest is too large and hangs off me but I find comfort in the weight as it rests on my back.
Neither of us has said a word since we started walking. I haven't said a word since leaving that room but I really don't have anything to say. I just stare at his back as the sound of birds waking up start to fill in the silence between us.
The funny thing about being numb is that my brain is only telling my body to do what it needs to keep me alive. Which right now was breathing and stumbling through the woods.
When Daryl finally stops walking, I'm vaguely aware that I'm sweating and the sun is now shining down on us. A part of me wants to keep walking. As illogical as it sounds maybe I can keep going and leave my problems behind.
A sudden flash of movement catches my attention and I turn to see that Daryl is now kneeling on the ground, motioning for me to come closer. It takes five steps to close the gap then I'm kneeling down next to him. At first I think he has spotted some kind of danger but when I look at him his hand is stroking his chin like he is lost in thought.
"What do you see?" His voice is a stark contrast to the silence just moments before.
I'm confused by his question because when I scan the woods in front of us there is nothing but trees. We are surrounded by trees and as far as I can tell nothing else.
"Not there. Here." He points at the ground in front of us and I notice a few indents in the ground.
"Animal tracks?" Is that the answer he is looking for?
He nods once, "What kind?"
Jesus what the hell was this? Some kind of quiz show. How was I supposed to know the answer, I wasn't a boy scout or even a girl scout for that matter.
He points again and I look closer. It rained a few days ago and a critter must have run through here then, leaving nothing but four distinct little paw prints in the mud. I know it's not a dog and they are too big to be a squirrels.
Racking my brain, I think of all the animals that live in these woods. Daryl is quietly waiting for my answer while I do a little deductive reasoning. The outlines of the little claws give me a clue. Since we don't have a lot of dangerous game in southern Georgia I figure they are probably used more for climbing trees.
I take a guess, "Racoon?"
He nods again confirming my answer. I feel a little pride at being right.
That is until he asks, "How old are the tracks?"
Oh come on. Did people other than forensic scientist and Bear Grylls really know things like that? It was honestly luck that had me getting the last question right.
He must have seen the unbelieving look on my face and decided that I would have no clue how to even begin answering that. When he took my hand I froze and had to fight my initial reaction to pull away from him. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I trust Daryl. So I let him put my hand flat on the ground, next to the tracks in question. Then he applied a little pressure on my index finger and I felt the damp ground give way as it squished into the dirt. When his weight pulled away from my hand I lifted it and saw the clear imprint left in the dirt.
We spent all day in the woods. I learned more in a few hours with Daryl then I have in a year at college. At least the things he was teaching me were useful these days. I was by no means an expert tracker but he had taught me some basics. Like how a bent blade of grass could tell me how long ago a deer walked through or how the crispness of a track outline could tell if something was nearby or not. The most important part was that I wasn't thinking or worrying about what had happened yesterday.
When I saw the farmhouse coming into view I started to feel that weight in the pit of my stomach again, it was no longer my safe haven. Luckily Daryl made his way to his camp and I followed after him hoping that he wouldn't tell me to go back to the house. There would be questions and looks of sympathy thrown at me by all of those people and I couldn't handle that right now.
Sitting in front of his tent were two Tupperware containers, he picked one up and opened the lid. I was embarrassed when my stomach growled as the smell of the contents reached my nose. I couldn't remember the last time I ate. Other than the overly salted roast I think it was a sandwich Beth had made me but that was days ago. Still when he held the container out toward me I held up my hand refusing the offer.
"Eat." The word, like most of his words, was growled at me but it was the look on his face that had me reach out and take the food. I knew Carol had been the one who left it for us, she seemed to be concerned when we ate.
Even though my stomach wanted the food I felt sick when I thought about eating. The knots in my stomach told me that it was highly likely that whatever went in was quickly going to come back up. But I was still under the watchful glare of Daryl so I picked up a green bean and took a bite. It seemed to please him because he turned his attention to his own food.
Daryl's POV
The last three days have become a routine.
Before the sun comes up we go into the woods then we come back right as the sun is setting. Other than Merle I've never spent this much time with another person. I don't mind her company though. She's quiet, only talking when she has a question, showing a genuine interest in learning what little I can offer.
For the last couple of mornings, she has been up and waiting for me. I'm starting to wonder if she sleeps at all. Judging by the growing black rings under her eyes whatever sleep she is getting isn't enough.
There is only the one tent and even though it is capable of holding two people comfortably I don't want to cross any lines. Not that anything would happen between us but people talk and we didn't need to give them any more than we already have to talk about. I personally didn't give a shit if they talked about me but it was the girl I worried about. She didn't need them assuming anything about her. She's already been through enough in her young life.
She must think it is rude if she sleeps in the tent while I sleep outside so she's declined each night. Both of us have been falling asleep under the stars. It was getting too cold for that though so tonight I was going to make her sleep in that tent even if I had to pick her up and throw her in.
I decided to change it up a little bit today and follow behind her. Letting her lead as we tracked a deer. She is quiet and when she turns back to look at me I nod to let her know she is on the right track. So far I have only had to correct her direction twice, but they were things that only someone who spent a lot of time tracking would have caught. So I'm pretty impressed by how quickly she has caught on.
The sound of a twig snapping further ahead has both of us crouching down. The weight of my crossbow is now balanced in my hand and I scan the woods. It doesn't take me long to spot the flash of white from the tail of a deer. Bumping her shoulder with my elbow I nod in the direction of the prey she had been following for the last couple of hours. Her eyes light up and a smile that punches me right in the gut fills her face.
That is how she should look. My chest puffs out a little more knowing that I managed to chase away the look she has been wearing the last few days. The one that didn't fit with who she was as a person, and it didn't take a genius to see that she was an honest to God good person.
Raising my bow, I have a clear shot of the deer. My finger is on the trigger even twitching slightly when a soft touch lands on my shoulder. I see her pointing at the deer and that is when I notice a fawn next to my target. It's a little late in the season to see such a young one but I know if I shoot I would be sentencing the fawn to death as well.
If we were starving I wouldn't care but the farm had plenty of food and from a hunter perspective the baby would grow up to ensure more game filled the woods. So I lowered the bow and heard the girl release a puff of air she had been holding.
I wasn't a softy. Even Merle wouldn't have been heartless enough not to appreciate the small act of compassion. Plus, it gave me another few moments to see the girl happy.
It's a little unsettling the fact that I care so much about the girl's happiness but if it means chasing those dark clouds from her eyes away I'd probably let the whole camp starve to death.
Mel's POV
It's beautiful out here. What's amazing is that not that long ago I was stumbling through these woods and at that time I was cursing them. I couldn't wait to get out of them. Then Daryl found me, well saved me was more like it. Even though I had enjoyed my brief reprieve from nature, now I preferred it over civilization.
It seems more simple out here.
There are no power plays or veiled threats being thrown around. You just existed. The smell of damp dirt, decaying leaves, and wet moss is quickly becoming my favorite perfume. Sorry Victoria's Secret Love is heavenly, but I won't be needing your services anymore.
It probably helped that I had a mean crossbow toting redneck by my side but I wasn't afraid out here. Watching momma deer and her baby remind me that miracles still exist.
When I was a younger I remember sitting in Sunday school and listening to the teacher talk about the miracles that Jesus had performed. I couldn't have been more than eight but even then I didn't understand why God chose to hide away from us. He wanted us to believe his word and yet we didn't know if he was real. So I raised my hand and asked, "If God loves us and wants us to believe in him then why doesn't he preform more miracles to prove himself?"
She had seemed taken aback by my question, being the preachers daughter she probably thought I would follow blindly without questioning such things.
Her answer, "He is not a magician that preforms, he doesn't need to prove himself. We just need to have faith."
Young me had felt cheated by the simple answer but I knew better then to question her further. Then that night at dinner I asked daddy the question again. He didn't look mad, or shocked. He just set his fork down, clasped his hands in front of his face and gave a small smile.
"I don't understand your question Mel. We are surrounded by his miracles every day."
"Not things like turning water into wine."
"Why is the sunrise and sunset less miraculous then that? I think it's even better." I didn't understand why he thought a sunrise was amazing. It happened every day and I told him that. "But why do you think that is Mel? Maybe God knows how beautiful and perfect those things are and wants us to see them at the start and end of every day. Why is something as routine as a sunrise so easily forgotten? It was one of his fist miracles after all. It's because we as humans forget to take comfort in the beauty he has given us. They are taken for granted. We are flawed but each day he still gifts us with a sunrise he found perfect enough to never change. His miracles are all around us, we just have to look."
The familiar sound of growling and feet shuffling pull me out of my past memories and I start trying to find the source. It starts to get louder. Mamma deer hears it as well and is already running away with baby in tow. It doesn't take long before the dead, or as Daryl affectionately calls them walkers, shows its decaying face. This isn't the first one we have come across since our time in the woods but I still feel a bubble of terror as the thing spots us and starts to stumble in our direction. I am still perched on the ground but quickly stand up. My feet can definitely outrun one of them. My main goal is just not to let them get close enough to touch me.
I was ready to start running when a sharp sound sounds to my right then a second later the walker falls to the ground. The end of a bright orange bolt sticking out of its head. Daryl walks over to the thing like it is no big deal, I wish I had his kind of composure. Nothing seemed to get him rattled where as I am ready to pee my pants and start running as soon as I see one of those things. His worn boots were on the head of his latest kill and with one quick pull he pulls his bolt out. The sickening sound of it being yanked out of flesh, bone, and whatever else has me leaning over and throwing up anything that is in my stomach. It isn't much but my stomach wants to make sure it does a thorough job of emptying itself.
I hadn't heard him walk back to me but Daryl was standing beside me. I could see his now bloodied shoes in my peripherals but bless him for not saying anything. This isn't the first time I have gotten sick in front of him but it's still embarrassing.
"Sorry." I stand and wipe my mouth while nodding toward the walker "The smell got to me." It was a lie and he knew it. I could smell the rotting thing but I was still too far away for it to be overpowering. I just refused to call it what it was -morning sickness.
Still he doesn't call my bluff and just hands me a bottle of water he packed, "We're done. Let's head back."
Disappointment falls over me; I don't want to go back to the house. So far I have been lucky in not seeing anyone else but Daryl. The chances of that continuing are dramatically less the more time I spend on the farm.
A refusal to follow him is bouncing around in my head but I know better. There is no way I can make it very long out here without Daryl. I am still surprised I made it as long as I did alone in the woods before. Luck was the only thing that kept me alive previously. I had no survival skills and nothing but an old hunting knife then.
Realization that I didn't have my knife anymore hits me and I start to hate myself even more for completely relying on him to take care of any trouble we might run into. I wasn't his responsibility but I was basically helpless, the most I could do was run away if I ran into trouble. The feeling of vulnerability and knowing that your life depended on another person was not a good one, in fact it was frightening.
For the most part I trust Daryl, I know that he will take care of any threat we might run into. Even with the fact that he is basically still a complete stranger to me. The dialog we've said to each other wouldn't even fill up a page and none of it told me anything about him. All I knew was how he acted around me which apparently is all I need to go on these days. It's a very different world from what I was used to just a few weeks ago. I need to remember that. I need to protect myself.
The walk back to the farm felt entirely too short. Even though Daryl's camp was a good distance from the other's I could still see them hurrying about the farm from my spot on the log. My eyes stayed on one form in particular. Shane was out in the open barking orders while the others did actual work. Guilt started to make an appearance when I thought about all the chores that needed tending to. If it was anything like daddy's smaller farm, then there was always something that needed done.
The guilt quickly disappeared when I thought about having to force a smile on my face and carry a conversation with someone I don't really care about.
"Dammit!" My head turns toward the shouted curse and I see Daryl bending over the motorcycle that is parked near his bounty of squirrels.
I have nothing better to do so with a quick shrug I stand up and walk over to him. I am no mechanic and have absolutely zero clue how something as simple as a clock works let alone an engine but curiosity had gotten the best of me.
Daddy always hated motorcycles, he used to call them "Death on two wheels" but even with my fathers hatred of the two wheeled death traps I always found myself reading romance novels centered around a bad boy who was in a motorcycle club. You know the really trashy ones that you prayed your family never found if something happened to you.
Since I was useless and didn't know how Daryl would feel about me watching him I stayed back, silently observing as he worked. I could see his face in the reflective black surface of the motorcycle. His brows drawn together and his face smudged with black marks.
"Hand me that wrench will ya?" He spoke with a cigarette in his mouth and caught me off guard. I thought I was being quiet and out of the way but from my short time with Daryl I should have known he knew I was there. He seemed to know everything about his surroundings.
Luckily I know what a wrench looks like. I was in charge of handing daddy his tools when he worked on the tractor while Harmony held the flashlight steady for him.
Pushing the favored memory out of my head I step forward and hand him his requested tool. He never turns around and I avoid meeting his eyes in the shiny surface.
"What are you doing?" My voice is soft and unused but he hears it nonetheless and stops to take the lit cigarette from his mouth.
A cloud of smoke fills the air around him when he answers, "Tightening the axle nuts."
Oh okay. Makes sense. You don't want the nuts falling off. I say to myself since I have nothing intelligent to contribute to the conversation.
Feeling like I have nothing to do and that I am most definitely creeping on Daryl I start to shift my weight from one foot to the next. I don't know where I fit in now, not in this world. It was so easy before when all you had to do was follow the rules laid out in life. It had been instilled in me since I was too young to remember. God's rules, daddy's rules, and the law pretty much told me everything I needed to know and do.
I'm not naive I know people broke rules before the dead started walking but it was like all rules were gone now. People who were once good were doing horrible things to the ones they were supposed to care for. Everything has been turned upside down and I didn't know what to think or do anymore. Someone like Daryl, I would have avoided at all costs in my other life. Everything about him screamed runaway and yet I find his presence soothing now.
"There you two are." Carol's voice is very motherly and when I look up she is smiling at me. At first I'm confused by how quickly she has managed to recover from the death of her daughter but then I remember what I am doing -forgetting. It's possible that she chose the same way to cope. "Mel I wanted to let you know that Beth is finally awake and has been asking about you."
My eyes squeeze shut when she tells me the news. So caught up in my own problems that I had completely forgotten about Beth. I don't think it is possible to be anymore selfish and more of a worse friend then I am. I owe it to my sister and to Beth to check on her but just the thought of going back to that house has me physically feeling sick. It's irrational. It's just a damn house.
My arms wrap around my stomach and I pull Daryl's vest tighter around me then I nod to Carol. Letting her know that I'll walk back with her. I think I feel the weight of Daryl's eyes on me but before I can confirm it he looks away and lights another cigarette. He's probably sick of having me around, following him like a second shadow.
Carol is still smiling at me and I have the urge to slap it off her face. It's not fair I know, but what the hell was there to smile about? Pushing down the uncalled for anger I take a step and start walking back to the house. Hopefully I will be in a better mood before I see Beth.
"How are you holding up?" Carol asks and I already miss Daryl. He doesn't ask stupid questions but I shouldn't be mad. I think she is genuinely concerned for me.
"I'm fine."
It is a simple answer. One that is vague and hopefully gets the point across that I don't want to talk. It seems to work because the rest of the walk is quiet, only the sound of the grass under our feet makes any noise until we get close to the farm.
"We need more wood." Shane is yelling to someone in the distance. I have to shield my eyes to see him since he is a good way off the ground. It looks like he is using the old wind vane tower to make some kind of lookout post. Which means he is planning on staying for a while. The moment he sees me looking at him his face transforms and he now has on a sickening smile. And if that isn't enough to make me even more weary of him he has to talk to me. "Well, look who decided to come down off her hill and bless us with her presence. How ya doin darling?"
The only thing I can think about is the night he was in my room. I was helpless and if Daryl hadn't shown up there is no telling what could have happened. I'm frozen. I should walk away but my brain isn't working right. I'm weak and he knows it. He even seems satisfied that he is able to get that reaction out of me. I have no clue what he is trying to prove or why he hates me so much but he does. I can see it in the way his eyes darken and the way his upper lip basically goes into a snarl when he looks at me. He is one of those people who didn't care about rules anymore.
"Enough Shane!" Rick yells and I watch as the hatred Shane has for me turns toward Rick. Managing to break whatever hold he has on me. I would feel sorry for the other man but Rick seems more than capable of taking care of himself. I'm just relieved not to be under his glare anymore. Carols hand on my back urges me closer to the house and I allow her guidance. Anywhere away from Shane is a great idea.
The house looks the same. Even smells the same, like anise and vanilla so I know Patricia has recently made a batch of her famous cookies. They always sold out at the church bake sales and more than one person had tried and failed to pry her family's secret recipe from her.
"Why don't you take a shower while we finish up. Then you can take Beth her food." After receiving a motherly smile from the older woman I start up the stairs to the bathroom. I catch sight of my hands and pull away from the banister.
They are filthy.
I shouldn't be surprised since I've been in the woods all day everyday but I hadn't thought about how I must look.
Here I am standing in a house that Hershel took a lot of pride in and kept it clean. While I no doubt look like I just rolled through a mud puddle. Trying to avoid touching anything else I practically run the rest of the way into the bathroom and close the door.
Rushing to the sink I turn the water on and shove my hands under it. I Watch as the water turns dark as it washes the dirt from my hands. When I finally get all of the dirt out from under my nails I relax and look in the mirror. I don't recognize the person looking back at me. I've always been a tidy person and taken pride in my appearance. Nothing extreme. I was a practical person who was raised by a man that poured everything he had into the church or the farm. My haircuts weren't fashionable but they only cost me $6.99.
This person in the mirror -I don't know who this is.
I look like I've lost ten pounds and even with my face slightly pink from sunburn I know underneath I have an unhealthy color to my skin. My hair is a mess and I grimace when I pull a stick out of the tangled maze. How had I not known there was a stick in my hair? Dirt is everywhere and I can't believe Daryl or Carol never said anything. Well I guess it makes sense that Daryl didn't -he was in about the same shape I was in.
Maybe I did know how I looked but just didn't care. Why should I worry about if my clothes are clean or if my hair is perfect? The dead are walking around trying to eat us. Daryl understood that. It was probably why he is currently camped so far away from the people trying to pretend everything was fine and literally baking cookies. Suddenly as I looked at the person in the mirror I didn't care. Like I had said earlier, it is a different world and I was going to change with it.
But I am still going to have that overdue shower.
I forgot to bring a change of clothes and decide to throw back on what I had been wearing. My jeans that were quickly becoming more holes then denim, a grey t-shirt that Maggie had given me my first day here, Daryl's long sleeve flannel shirt that he threw at me yesterday, and his vest.
I really should give it back to him and I will. Just not right now.
After throwing my hair up into a messy pile on top of my head I know I must look ridiculous. A shirt and vest two sizes too big accented with a tangled wet mess of hair. But I walk out of the steamy room without looking in the mirror and feeling a lot lighter.
"Mel will be here in a second, she's just finishing up in the shower." I follow the sound of my name and see Lori setting up lunch for Beth "-Maybe when your done eating you two can take a walk. It'll do you good to get some fresh air." Lori turns to me standing in the doorway and I return the small smile letting her know that I'm on board with her plan.
Beth is still in bed but at least she has moved from the last spot I saw her. Instead of laying on her back and staring at the ceiling she is now turned on her side facing the wall. All I can see is the back of her blonde head. She might be awake but she is definitely not better.
"You're pregnant?" I stiffen at her words. Not only because of what she said but because of the way she said them. Harsh and accusatory, she didn't sound like the Beth I knew. "How could you do that?"
I think that she is talking to me but then I realize that she doesn't even know I am in the room. Lori answers, "I don't really have a choice."
"Do you think it will make a difference?"
"Of course it will." Lori gives me a look that I have been avoiding. Pity. Then walks by me to get out of the room. I would like to say I know what she is going through but I honestly have no clue. She has a husband, a son, a family. I will be doing it all on my own.
Beth still hasn't turned around and I'm seriously thinking about just about-facing and taking my own leave unnoticed but I owe Harmony and Beth a little more than my cowardice.
Forcing a now unfamiliar smile on my face all I can do is hope it looks genuine and more than a grimace.
"Knock knock." She doesn't answer. This could be my last chance to turn around and go back to where I'm more comfortable but I can't bring myself to leave her like this so I walk further into the room. Everything about the room screams teenage girl. Posters of male pop-stars are scattered on the wall quickly replacing the few horse posters that have managed to hold on to their space a little longer. The Yellow and grey color scheme make it seem bright and cheerful.
"Hey kiddo mind if I take a seat?" the only answer I receive is her scooting closer to the other side of the bed. Allowing me enough room to lay down beside her. I've known Beth for years, I'm almost certain her and my sister have been friends since before kindergarten. Every weekend they would alternate spending the night at each other's houses. It got to the point that people honestly thought Beth was our sister. Admittedly I was a little jealous of their friendship. I had friends but nothing like what they had.
I feel a slight tremble in the bed and see Beth's shoulders shaking like she is silently crying. Without thinking I have her in my arms and brushing her hair out of her face. With her back to me I can't see her face but the sobs become louder and I just hold her tighter.
It's something I have done for Harmony countless times. The first was when she was thirteen and her boyfriend of six months broke up with her to be with another girl. I was fetching her for dinner when I walked into her room and saw her crying. I had held her just like I am Beth and told her it was going to be alright. That Eric was an idiot and wouldn't know a good thing if it bit him on the ass. She had laughed at my cussing; it was something neither of us were comfortable with but I felt it was appropriate then.
It was difficult going to daddy with any girl issues so she always went to me. I tried to be both a sister and a mother to her since we didn't have one but I had nothing to go on. Mom died when I was too young to remember and way before I had any of my own issues with boys or my body. Still, I think Harmony knew that I tried.
"Wh-What happened to her?" Beth was still hiccuping and sniffling but at least her crying stopped.
I know what she is asking me but I don't know what to tell her. She couldn't be sheltered in this house, oblivious to the dangers outside the pretend safety net of the farm. But I don't want her to know. I don't want her to become jaded and I lose that piece of Beth that makes her special. The part her and Harmony shared. It is probably selfish of me but I need something from my past. An anchor and Beth is it.
"It doesn't matter."
She sits up in the bed and it's the first time I've seen any part of her vertical in days, "How can you say that? I deserve to know."
"Please don't. Not now Beth."
"I loved her just as much as you did. Tell me."
Anger quickly surfaces to the front of my brain but I close my eyes and push it back.
"It. Doesn't. Matter." The bite of my nails in my palms tells me that somewhere along the line I clenched my fists. A few deep breaths and I manage to relax them and open my eyes. I'm met with such raw pain on Beth's face that it makes me soften my own. "You're here. She's not. We have to move on."
Before I'm able to comprehend what is going on she jumps off the bed and slams the door to her bathroom. My head falls back on the headboard with an audible thud. I wish there was some way to speed up the healing process for both Beth and myself but only time is the cure for our pain.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed I rest my elbows on my knees and give my face a quick rub with my hands. I need to get out of here before I screw anything else up. Before I leave I put my head against the door separating me and Beth. I hear the water running and that's it.
Almost to the exit and I hear glass shattering from behind me but its muffled. I know it's behind the door Beth is in and I start to panic.
"Beth?" I knock and turn the handle at the same time but it doesn't move. "Beth. Open up. Are you alright?"
The crying is back and my gut tightens.
"Maggie! Hershel!" I'm screaming now but no one answers. Only Lori stands in the doorway a few seconds later.
"What's going on?"
"Beth's in there and I heard glass."
My hand is pounding on the door and I can feel the sting but it doesn't matter. I need to know Beth is okay. Lori puts her hand on my shoulder and pushes me back, its then that I see she has a fireplace poker and is using it to pry the door open. I don't think I'm breathing, all I can do is pray that Beth hasn't done something stupid.
The sound of wood splintering followed by a metallic clink precedes the door opening. At first I'm relived because Beth is standing facing a broken mirror and my first thought is that she might have punched it out of anger but then she turns around. Grasping her wrist as blood pools around her fingers and drips to the floor.
Lori runs out the door shouting for Patricia and I'm frozen in place.
"I'm sorry." She says between sobs.
I start crying and bring her into my arms. I know she will be fine there isn't enough blood to indicate she did any real damage but I need to physically know she is alright.
"I don't want to move on. I don't want to forget them. I can't lose anyone else." She's rambling one short sentence after the next. Her voice is barely audible as it's muffled into my shirt. All I can say is "I know. It'll be okay."
Beth is being bandaged up and is with her family and I'm standing here feeling like an outsider. Hershel's hands are shaking, which is something I've never seen from him before. He was always calm and collected but I guess having your daughter intentionally slice into her arm with a piece of broken glass will shake anymore to the core.
With a quick kiss to the white gauze now wrapped around her wrist he stands up and walks out, but not before patting my shoulder. Beth starts a new round of crying this time with Maggie joining her and I know I'm intruding on this intimate moment.
The rest of the house is eerily quiet and when I step out on the porch I'm disappointed to see the sun is sunken below the horizon. It's the first sunset I've missed since everything has gone to hell and I feel a little empty not having the satisfaction of witnessing one of God's last miracles. I need to take them when I can because I'm pretty sure they are going to be few and far between here on out.
The glow from Daryl's fire is like a beacon calling me. I wait for the uncertainty to kick in but it never does. If he didn't want me there he would say it. He wasn't the type to spare someone's feelings.
Daryl's POV
I wasn't sure she was going to come back. Then I heard her.
I could hear humming before I heard her steps. The noises alone told me that she had a beautiful voice and I hated that she stopped when she got closer.
I made it seem like all of my attention was on cleaning a few squirrels as she sat down across from me. The sleeves of my shirt that she was wearing were hanging down over her hands making her look like a child playing dress up. The pile of hair on her head didn't help repel the image.
After she got sick again in the woods earlier, concern that she wasn't doing well had me in search of Hershel while she was back at the house. I told the old man that I didn't think she was sleeping and everything she ate seemed to come right back up. The only advice he gave me was to keep an eye on her, apparently the human body will make sure that her and the baby get everything they need. I don't know how that is possible but I'm not the doctor.
"You eat?" I ask and she shakes her head. I wanted to yell at her to take better care of herself but instead I grabbed one of the squirrels and a stick. Roasted squirrel was better than nothing.
The look on her face was part shock and part disgust when she saw the little eyes of her dinner looking back at her.
"I'm not hungry."
"Eat it." It was a command and earned me the first sign of spunk from her. I raised an eyebrow at the glare she gave me and then frowned when she uttered an apology. She didn't need to apologize.
Hesitantly she picked at the meat with her fingers and brought a small piece to her lips. I know most people wouldn't think of eating squirrel meat but it was my main diet when I was younger. When dad was out on a bender and Merle was off I had to fend for myself and the woods of Georgia are overrun with the tree rats.
She seems surprised that the meat isn't as repulsive as she thought it would be and eats another piece. Satisfied that she is eating, I go back to cleaning my knife.
"Who taught you to track?"
I think about ignoring her question but she is probably trying to distract herself from the idea that she is eating a cute fluffy animal.
I light a cigarette and take a long drawl before I answer, "Brother."
"Oh, sorry." She goes back to eating and looking at the fire but I don't like that she felt she needed to apologize again.
"When our dad was in a bad mood Merle would take me out and show what he knew." I leave out the part where we were out in the woods all the time. Dad was in a bad mood when he was liquored up. Which made it hard to be around him since being drunk was a constant state for him. Merle saved my life on more than one occasion.
"It's okay we don't have to talk. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."
"Stop apologizing." I snap and regret it when she flinches. I'm no good at this. I don't know how to handle people with kid gloves and I feel like that is what she needs.
She sighs and goes back to eating, but the bites are smaller and I think she is just going through the motions. Only eating to make me happy. As a rule, I make it a point to keep a distance from people. Less disappointment can happen on either side if you keep space between you. But I find myself breaking another one of my rules and ask, "Do you sing?"
She seems as shocked as I am that I asked the question but shakes her head again, "No. My sister and Beth were the singers. I preferred the piano and guitar. You-you should hear Beth sing she's beautiful."
The last of her sentence was said in a whisper and I watched as her face went back to the hardened mask she has been wearing for a while. Then she yawns and sets the remainder of the squirrel next to her. She is running on fumes, has been for days and its starting to catch up to her.
"You're taking the tent tonight."
"No- it's yours. I'll be fine ou-"
"Just get in the damn tent. You look like shit."
Her mouth opens like she is going to argue but I think the look I give her shuts her up. I didn't think you could audibly stomp on dirt but she managed and I'm pretty sure I heard her mumble, "You don't look that great either bub", as she violently shoved the flap of the tent open. I couldn't help but smirk at her. It was the first real spark of life I'd seen in her. It was good to see she wasn't completely broken.
Mel's POV
"Mel."
I hear the broken scream but I can't find her. I need to make sure she is okay. My head won't turn. No matter how hard I try I can't get to her. Then like every time the nightmares get this far my sisters face comes out of the darkness, but something isn't right with her. The tears and pain in her eyes shouldn't be there.
Her hand is grasping for mine but I can't reach her. My own arm feels like it is burning from the efforts.
"Just look at me. It'll be okay." My voice no longer sounds like my own and my throat is burning from trying to suppress my own cries. I have to be strong for her but I know we won't be okay. Someone else is screaming and I recognize without seeing him that it's my dad. That is what pushes me over the edge and I can no longer stop the tears from falling.
A new pressure lands on my throat forcing my head away from my sister and into the eyes of the monster above me.
There are hands on me and I claw at them trying to get them off of me. I have to get to my sister.
"Shit."
That one simple word has me pausing. I know that voice but I don't want to open my eyes and see that he isn't really there. My cheeks are wet and my chest is trying to draw in enough air but I still feel like it's not enough.
The fog starts to lift and I'm aware that there are hands holding my arms still. They are most definitely real and when I open my eyes I see Daryl looking at me with concern. I also see a scratch on his cheek with a small amount of blood surging to the surface.
"Oh my god." I gasp and cover my mouth "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I- I didn't know."
"I'm fine. You okay?"
Why is he asking about me? I just mauled his face. All because of that one nightmare that won't let me forget what happened. I knew it was only a matter of time before it resurfaced. Which is why I have been avoiding sleep. I close my eyes hoping to clear my head but I see my sisters face and snap them back open. Why is it that I never remember my dreams? Not the good ones anyways. It's the nightmares that leave their haunting images behind in my head.
Speaking is no longer an option so I nod. His grip loosens slightly like he is afraid I'll hurt him or myself if he fully releases me. I'm okay but there is no way I will be getting back to sleep. His touch lingers on my skin like a balm when he finally let's go of my arms and stands. The top of the tent preventing him from standing to his full height.
I want to call out to him when he walks out but that's too pathetic. It looks like it's going to be a long night. I have no clue what time it is but I know it's pitch black outside and I can tell the glow from the fire is even more dim. Laying back I rest my head on the lame excuse of a pillow sewn into the sleeping bag and lay my hands in front of me. Before the images of my dream start to force their way into my thoughts, I start to move my fingers like they are playing a piano. If I concentrate hard enough I can feel the smoothness of the keys under my fingertips. I can hear the notes like I am actually playing them. I've done this since I was a child first taking lessons and it's a habit I haven't been able to break.
The sound of fabric moving makes me sit up again and I see Daryl coming back into the tent. He is carrying something in his hands and passes them off to me. A lantern and a worn paperback book. I want to protest and tell him that we need to save the batteries but the fact that he knows I need a distraction makes me smile.
I look up to tell him thank you but he is about to leave the tent for the second time tonight.
"Wait." He stops and turns around waiting for me to finish but I'm suddenly unsure what I was going to say, "I uh- I can read it aloud if you want."
What? There is no reasoning why I just said that. I'm only confident that I don't want to be alone right now. I can't look at him so I direct my gaze downward and watch as my hand rubs the front cover of the book, tracing the bold lettering on the front.
I'm certainly surprised when he turns around and lays on the spot where his sleeping bag used to be. His arm behind his head and he gives me a quick nod letting me know to start reading.
I turn the lantern on and open the cover of the book, A Painted House by John Grisham. I'd never heard of it but then again I thought Grisham did crime novels and the cover didn't look like one. Without looking up again I start to read and find that I'm not as uncomfortable as I thought I would be. I would read aloud to people all the time before, at the nursing home, in church, even at home when daddy would ask me to. Falling into the flow of the words makes me forget I'm in a tent trying to distract myself and almost immediately I'm completely engrossed in the story.
That's the nice thing about stories though, you could live someone else's life for a while and forget about your own.
You can escape.