Summary: The group heads to the CDC and bargains to be allowed access. Dinner and drinking ensues, leading to a explosion of sorts between Murphy and Daryl.
Trigger Warning: Mentions suicide, suicidal thoughts, rape and domestic violence. Also sexual references.
"Well, that fucking happened." I think to myself as we stand at the doors of the CDC. The stench of rotting flesh is overwhelming, to the point I've emptied the contents of my stomach a few times, which is more bile than anything as none of us have eaten in a few days. I holster one of my guns, bending over once more and dry heaving. Don't think they covered this in med school. I feel Carol's hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I hear Rick conversing with a voice. I can feel the dread, knowing if there is nothing here, we're pretty much just sitting ducks. Most of us are out of fuel and to be honest, I'm not sure how much longer we can go.
"You okay?" I look to see Joshua looking at Carol and I.
"Yeah, just heat getting to me and not eating. I'll be fine." I assure him with a smile before standing up when Rick starts yelling. He's begging them to let us in, to not leave us to die. Others start banging on the doors, my back turning to them. Abby, Joshua, and I are watching the rear, ensuring the yelling doesn't bring any surprises like the horde at camp.
"Don't leave us to fucking die! You want that on your fucking hands!?" John yells, hitting the metal gate with the butt of his rifle.
Just as everyone else is about to turn around, something out of a fucking movie happens and the gate opens, a voice instructs us to step inside. We all look amongst ourselves for a moment before filing in. Those of us armed keep those of us not in the middle, forming a circle as we sweep the front lobby. My jaw hurts from clenching it. We turn and lower our weapons when we hear a voice. A man lowers his rifle, telling us if we had things to bring in, to do it now because the doors wouldn't open again after we assured him no one in the group was bitten and agreed to his request for blood tests. We all nod. Rick, Shane, Joshua, Daryl, Glenn, and John nod. Abby, T-Dog, Joanne, and I are all guarding the door while the guys make a run for our things.
Once the doors are sealed, I listen to John and Rick talking with the man who introduces himself as Edwin Jenner. He explains it's just him, everyone else abandoned ship and fled, many dying just outside the gates.
I offer a smile, staying quiet when he takes my blood. My head hurts, my ears are starting to ring and I'm feeling weak. Abby and I both have bags under our eyes, and I admit that the lack of showering makes me feel disgusting. For lack of a better term, I'm grossed out by my own stench. Laying my head on Abby's shoulder, I close my eyes for a moment, trying to ward off the wave of nausea as Jacqui explains we haven't eaten.
I'd be lying if I said I was paying attention to dinner, half listening to everyone smiling and joking. I slowly pick at my food, lost in thought. Toby crosses my mind, and I almost feel guilty for leaving him behind. I know he'd have left me, but now am I no better than him? I tried to be a decent person but clearly failed. The self-loathing is kicking in, telling me I'm a monster for leaving another human being to die.
When I come into awareness, it's Shane asking about Edwin being the only one left, and what happened to the others with a bit of skepticism in his tone. Part of me agrees, I wonder the same thing. The explanation given, with Edwin explaining that others couldn't handle what lay ahead, was that they had instead "opted out." As I listen to him explain how people were committing suicide in the halls, I admit to wondering if that wouldn't be a good option. Dying on your own terms, instead of waiting to get bit or dying by someone else's hand. The option is tempting, but I also know I would leave those who love me grieving after we've lost so much. I'd be lying if I denied having any suicidal thoughts over the years. Of being tired and being strong and wanting to just end it all. Say fuck picking myself up, fuck holding my head up.
"You still with us, Murph?" I'm drawn from my thoughts with a gentle nudge from Abby.
"Yeah, sorry. Just tired. Good food always makes you tired." I laugh, getting to my feet when Edwin offers to show us places to sleep and asks when we shower to go easy on the hot water. I snag one of the bottles of Southern Comfort from the table as we walk from the dining area. I chuckle to myself about having Irish in my blood and one thing I'm good at is drinking, thanks Dad. I plan on drinking away my self-loathing and tomorrow, putting back on my brave face.
I don't take long to shower, wishing everyone a good night before heading to the rec room with my bottle of Southern Comfort after hanging my guns and holster on the office door I was using for a bedroom.
"Hey, sorry didn't know anyone was still in here." I smile at Carol as I enter the rec room.
"Oh, just up and milling around. Waiting on Sophia so I can tuck her in and tell her a story. She can't sleep without one." Carol chuckles.
"My dad used to tell me stories when he wasn't drunk and passed out." I chuckle, as if that was normal, and sit down on the cream-colored couch by the wall.
"Oh, honey." Carol's gentle tone almost makes me regret saying anything. One thing I know about abuse is you can tell when another woman is going through the same.
"Sorry." I nod and unscrew the cap to my bottle.
"Was he the one abusing you? I um… I can see the signs. One battered woman to another." She admits. I think it's the first time she has openly admitted to the abuse. Maybe because she sees the same in me.
"Uh no, actually… Highschool sweetheart. You know, whirlwind love, then he rapes you and becomes an asshole." My response is emotionless as I take a long drink from my bottle. Then again, autopilot has kicked in. I note I've done that a lot recently.
"I'm sorry." I can tell Carol was caught a bit off guard, not by what I said, but by how I said it. When she sits next to me, her hand comes to rest on my knee.
"It's okay, he's probably dead now anyways." Glancing at her with two-toned eyes.
"Suppose that means we're both free." She states, even shocking herself with the bluntness of her words.
"That it does. Good riddance to him and Ed." I get an awkward chuckle from her, offering her a shot from my bottle. She hesitates for a moment before accepting my offering.
"Are we bad people?" She asks softly, handing my bottle back.
"Part of me wants to feel bad, but the other part… I don't care if I am, they were bad people. I almost want to feel bad for leaving Toby, my ex, behind, but I know he'd have done the same to me." I shrug and take the bottle, knocking back what had to be a double shot and enjoying the burn the alcohol leaves in my throat.
Our conversation is cut short by Sophia, who smiles when she enters the room. She's so innocent, and part of me is sad she lost her father, yet at the same time, at least she doesn't have to live in fear.
"Goodnight you two, see you in the morning." I wave as Carol wishes me goodnight and exits with Sophia.
Settling back on the couch, resting the bottle between my legs as I lie my head back for a bit and close my eyes. The last few weeks play in my mind, over and over. Wondering when I'll break. Knowing it's coming, it always does. I'm also annoyed with myself because I'm such a fucking self-loathing cliche. Then again, does that make me cliche for thinking I'm cliche? My brain is an asshole. It's almost like a never-ending cycle. Alcohol only does so much.
I'm stirred from my thoughts, head lifting and eyes opening. Sighing, I lift the bottle to my lips, another double shot, as I watch Daryl walk in. Sure, I could get up and walk away, but at the same time, I was here first and if anyone was going to leave, it was gonna be him. I think back to what Abby said, about being harsh because Daryl reminded me of Toby. The only real thing that reminded me of Toby was the redneck vibe. Toby wasn't bad looking and I admit, neither is Daryl.
"Evenin'." Holding my bottle up in greeting as he sits on the couch opposite of me.
"Evenin'."He answers back with a nod.
"Don't like drinkin' alone?" Asking as I drink from my bottle, noting three-fourths already gone.
"Eh, more like needed to clear my head. This seemed like the best place." He shrugs and settles back, as we both take long drinks.
We fall into silence, drinking and existing. This is the most time I've spent with Daryl, but I'm stubborn and not about to leave. Even when we are both down to almost less than half our bottles. I laugh to myself, head swimming a bit, but nothing I can't handle. I've had worse on St. Paddy's day with Abby and Joshua. Daryl and I have remained silent, but have stolen glances at one another. Cue my sarcasm.
"Lightweight," I mutter with a grin.
"I ain't no fuckin' lightweight, you goofy bitch." He retorts.
"Fucking look like one. Is that why you keep staring at me?" I taunt and take a long drink.
"You're the one over there staring, that's all you fucking do. Grunt and glare at me, when I ain't ever done shit to you." He growls out, sitting up and taking a long drink before he lets the bottle dangle between his fingers. Resting his forearms on his knees, the look he gives me is almost challenging.
"So fucking what? Ever think maybe I just don't like you?" I laugh, mirroring his actions.
"Don't no one like me, but 'least they're civil. You though? I half expect you to rip my damn throat out." He snarks and follows it up with a long drink.
"I don't owe you an explanation." Rolling my eyes.
"You're right, you don't, but seein' as if we're gonna be in this for the long haul, hows about you pull the stick out of your ass." Once he downs the rest of his bottle, he places it on the table and continues his glare.
"What, you want me to make room for you?" I snark and polish off my bottle, placing it on the table.
"Maybe that's what you fucking need, someone to fuck the bitch right outta you." He laughs.
"And you're the asshole to do so?" Laughing sarcastically.
I know I should walk away, especially when he leans back on the couch and lays his arms over the back. I know this is the alcohol talking, Daryl hasn't been this brash, not this way. Standing up, I roll my eyes and actually do start to walk away. Until I hear him laugh and call me a virgin.
"You know what… Fuck you, Daryl Dixon."