Sorry! I'm a horrible person yes I know. It's been over a month since I've updated, I deserve an angry mob to throw rocks at me… (pebbles preferably but you get it). Promise to update within a tiny-tinny time frame next time.
Glares were thrown my way, as well as another bowl of oatmeal from my favorite old woman. Carl completely shunned me, Beth is, well Beth. Daryl is freaking scary and Rick won't let me leave without a jacket. That's the full summary of my dilemma. Oh and the little voice inside my head is on full blast, apparently he isn't too happy about me leaving.
What the fuck Siren! I died to protect you and your running off with what's-his-face and the freaky woman with the sword?
I wince at the pain against my skull. His voice burns like a bitch. "Tone it down will you? And I trust both of them."
No you don't. When will you learn? I'm in your head Sirenity! I know what you think, how you feel, what you're doing.
"I know I'm safe got it, now shut up I have to get ready," I snap, continuing to shove pairs of jeans into a duffle bag. I yank a little red switch blade from the front pocket, opening the six inch blade and pressing the sharp edge against my index finger.
What are you doing? His voice sends another stab of pain in my head.
Red spurts from the slit on my finger. No pain. Nothing. Numb. I noticed it when Beth punched me, I knew she broke my nose, and I could feel the blood, heard the crack, but it didn't hurt. It's like the only physical pain I feel is when Tobias is talking to me. A ball of blood builds, twirling down my index finger.
Why would you do that? Ouch. Again with the throbbing pain.
"I thought you knew everything about me," I smirk, pulling the edge of the blade from my finger and folding it back. I stick it in my front pocket of my jeans.
"I ain't got all day," Daryl drawls from downstairs, that's probably the most he's ever spoken to me. I picture him now, leaning against the wall, crossbow in hand, poncho over his shoulders, eyes fixed on the stairs and anticipation eating him alive.
I throw on a red hoody, already stained with blood and smudged with dirt, zipping it up to the collar and covering my dark hair with the hood. Chucking the duffle bag over my shoulder, doing a three sixty around my cell to make sure I have everything. God I wish I could bring the bed, I've just got it exactly how I like.
Be careful around those people. Alright?
I hop down the steps, Michonne and Daryl waiting for me. Rick is also among them, hands shoved in his pockets awkwardly. "Fine," I mutter to Four's annoying voice. "Ready to go," I bounce on the balls of my feet excitingly.
"For two hours we've been ready," Michonne coolly replies, her katana sticking out from behind her back.
Wow. Look who had a bowl of bitchy for breakfast Siren. Better head back to the generator room, it seems as if they don't want us with them.
I smash my hand against my forehead, pinching my eyes closed and groaning. The pain has gotten a lot worse. "No," I think aloud, my eyes fluttering open to see three pairs of puzzled eyes on me. "Pounding headache," I weakly smile, but I can feel Rick's persistent, worried eyes on me. "Let's go."
….
There was no goodbye party. I got a head nod from Tyrese and that was about it. We didn't take the Honda like I thought, instead we took this baby blue, old pickup truck that smelt heavily of exhaust and gasoline. I threw my duffle bag in the bed of the truck and decided to crawl in there myself on a mountain of guns and bags.
Daryl drove, Michonne sat silently in the front seat, not that I could hear them if they were talking. The sun was at it's fullest by the time we hit the empty highway that Tobias and I were going to ride out of Georgia all those months ago. The engine roared and grumbled underneath me, the wind blowing my hair in my face as I laid in the back, with my head propped up with my bag.
Are we going to talk about the fact that creepy Harry Potter guy had my name in his journal?
"I told you," I whispered, peeking around the corner into the window to see Daryl staring out at the road and Michonne looking out the passenger window. "He's crazy, he probably just heard someone say your name and wrote it down a bunch of times."
Please don't get too close to these people. I don't know how long you're going to be with them.
I had to press my head against the coolness of the truck to hear him clearly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean Tobias?"
It means, I don't know how protected you are there.
"I'm safe, that's all you have to worry about, now please be quiet. Every time you speak it's like someone is electrocuting my brain. I close my eyes, listening to the wind whistle in my ears and eventually fall asleep.
I wake up to the sound of doors slamming. The truck stopped and it takes a few seconds for the reek of decaying bodies to hit my nose. My tired eyes flicker around, burnt bodies stacked upon more burnt bodies upon more burnt bodies. Ravens circled around in the gloomy, grey town.
"Where are we," I wiggle to my feet, hopping out of the truck. It's obviously a town. A small one where everyone probably knew everyone. Where kids would ride their bikes to the small movie theater around the corner. Now everyone who ever lived here is in that pile, bikes are scattered along with cars that still have their doors wide open.
"Plains, Georgia, home of our 39th president," Michonne reads from the green sign just a few yards away. I rub my eyes, seeing in a tired blur over my eyes.
I sigh, "okay then, let's get started." I pull a rifle free from the small pile, slinging it over my shoulder as we begin our walk into the city and search for supplies.