43: Parting I Such Sweet Sorrow.

I spent two weeks soaked in blood and guts. Two long weeks caked in death and that smell. Two weeks with red skin and red clothes, red everything. Two weeks struggling through my own hell. But I wasn't completely alone. I had Riley. She wasn't talkative, she wasn't much other than another obstacle, but that's what I needed. Riley had kept a large Ziploc of the bits of the dead guys to freshen me up every now and then. At some point it stopped being appetizing to me, it wasn't nearly fresh enough, so we took out a few nearby squirrels and I got a brand new coat of deliciousness. I was a walking candy store, only I was the only one around who liked sweets. The first few days it was difficult to concentrate. I'd be so busy focusing on the group, focusing on what I wanted to get to that I'd forget what I was doing. Riley picked up my slack though, but only slightly. She had this way of looking at me, into my soul almost, and I'd always feel like I had to impress her. I'd found ways to think of the group and get shit done. It was all going smooth. Then I didn't need to think of them so much. I'd go hours without the nagging feeling of wanting to let myself off the handle. And at the end of the week I could stay on task even with a fresh layer. Sometimes, and I hated it when she did this, but Riley'd reopen her cut and hold it in front of me like she was begging me to take a bite. I never did though. I just rolled my eyes at her and thought of something else.

At some point my daily cigarette break that Riley had been enforcing became something I looked forward to. A break from the smell. A break from work. A break from everything. I'd given up my objections on the healthiness of the matter since she'd met each one with the same line from her book, "On a large enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone will drop to zero." The more I thought about it the more it made sense, the more I didn't mind the cigarettes.

At the end of those two weeks everything changed. The smell that I'd been drenched in, the smell that I'd once loved, now sickened me in a new way. I hated it. My salivation slowed and stopped and I had no idea why. She'd hold up her arm, a bit of blood would drop onto my shoe, and I'd just cringe my nose. My stomach didn't wretch. I didn't tremble. Nothing happened. The paint that covered me was now something different. It transformed from a test to a minor inconvenience. It was not different than being covered in feces. I didn't say anything about the change in mindset at first. I was afraid it was a fluke. I was afraid that by saying it aloud things would magically go back to the way they were and the hunger would be back. I'd wait a week, just to be sure.

The week came and went, and I never once felt hungry. At least, not for raw meat.

"I don't feel hungry," I looked over at Riley as I swallowed the last of my meal, "The smell, its not affecting me the same way." I reached over to the bag of fresh meat Riley had gathered that morning while I slept in the car and stuck my face into it. "It's too good now or I'm used to it or something," I pulled my blood stained towel to my nose as well, still nothing, "It's like that second piece of cake. Or your third day in a row of eating pizza."

She just nodded, like she knew this would happen, like she always nodded. I debated speaking then, but I figured I'd just wait until she decided to tell me what she thought of what I had to say. "I had a thing for donuts," she set down her makeshift plate and looked at me with a slight smile in her eyes, "After my last tour I got a job at this really small record store, and there was a bakery next door. At first it was great, the smell of donuts all the time, like I was in heaven," she pointed at me, "Like you must've felt before." I nodded at her words. It had felt like heaven on some level. It had been everything I could want and everything I didn't want at the same time. "But after a while I couldn't stand the smell. Every time I got home my clothes would reek, and I hated it."

"Too much of a good thing," I continued to nod.

"Too much of a good thing," she repeated.

We made our way back to the car primarily in silence, as we normally did. I followed her lead, keeping a few paces behind, scanning our surroundings just in case. Then she stopped suddenly and turned her head to a nearby building. I quickly drew my gun and took aim, "I didn't smell anyone?"

She looked over at me and shook her head, "Read the sign." She started towards the store without me.

I looked up at the top of the structure, "Irma's Fancy Boutique?" Riley gave a nod and motioned for me to come after her. Once in the store I questioned her, "If you need new clothes we'd have better luck at the sporting goods store down the street." She was walking through the racks, throwing various items into a pile on the floor, "I mean look at the stuff here," I poked a mannequin, "Irma wasn't lying about it being fancy." She gave a weak laugh and continued adding to the pile. "I didn't take you for a girly girl," I reached down to the pile and held up what looked like a wedding dress, glimpsing the price tag. It was the same price as a month's worth of rent and food back in the day.

She threw one more item down on the pile before she spoke, "Pick one."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't go to your group looking like that. If they have any sense they'll shoot you on sight. Just pick one."

"If I need new clothes I'll get 'em at the sporting goods store." She glared at me, "I mean look at these things. They don't offer any protection, I'll get bit or scratched in a day."

"Stop acting like I'm stupid and just pick something already. We have more to do before we can leave town."

"I'll get bit—"

"Those things don't notice you're around even with your new look," she motioned to my dirty red skin, "So don't give me that shit. And I've seen you looking into other stores like this ever since we met. So pick out the most expensive things you can find and then we'll clean you off." She searched behind the counter for a minute while I examined the dresses. A fabric shopping bag plopped in front of me, "Put whatever in there and we'll head out." She pulled a ridiculous fur coat from a hanger and slid it on while glancing at the price tag, "The police station is a few streets over, and probably has a generator. Maybe we can get a nice shower or at least some extra guns to give to your people."

I shoved the nicest things I could find into the bag and stood up, "You sure I'm ready to be out of these?" I gestured to the clothes.

She started out of the shop, "You'll live."

-o0o-

I had to admit it felt good to wash the smell off of me. Free at last. It felt good to have the warm water flow over my skin and through my hair. Clean at last. It felt good to scrub the blood from my skin. Me at last. The world righted itself for that hour. Whatever horrors there were in the world didn't matter. Nothing mattered by the steam and the heat. Even Riley seemed to be happy, which was saying something.

After I'd toweled off I stared at my skin for a while. I'd gotten used to the red tone, the hints of dirt everywhere. Now I was as white as ever. I fished a brush out of one of the lockers and combed my hair in the mirror. Blonde again, clean again. It had gotten so long, I wondered if I should cut it.

"Mop's getting too long," Riley said almost to herself as she stood over the sink with scissors and began to hack away at her hair. She pulled off the pixie cut, but I didn't have her face. I needed my hair. "Some good boots in the lockers back there, should check and see if any of them'll fit ya." Her voice was different. It was like she'd changed into someone else. I liked her like this, chipper. I think given more showers Riley might have actually become a friendly human being. Maybe she had been warm before all this? Maybe she'd just changed to survive?

"I look so weird now," I examined my face in the mirror. It was abnormal to see myself without a heap of guts on me, or a smear of blood. I'd forgotten what I looked like, but now here I was. I felt prettier than I'd ever felt. Borderline beautiful compared to the mutant-looking creature I'd been for the last few weeks.

She looked at me for a second, and that odd smile of hers came and went, "Should get out of here soon." She put the scissors into her front pocket, "I'll go see what they got in the armory."

When she left I turned to the bag. It would be nice to wear something that wasn't pants and long sleeves for a change. It would be nice to wear something that didn't smell repulsively sweet. I looked at the things I'd grabbed. I didn't know what I was thinking with some of them, must've been the price tags. Finally, I pulled out a well-crafted deep red strapless dress with tread embellishments and a small slit up the right leg. "Won't see any blood stains," I slipped it on and looked in the mirror once more. Looked nice enough. Fit like a glove, too. I swung my arms around, and did a few kicks and squats, "Range of motion is good." I figured it would work as slid on some socks before I searched the lockers for boots that fit. I felt a bit like Cinderella when the third pair wrapped around my toes. It was like the things were made for me. The way they sat under my feet made me sturdier than the last pair I'd been wearing. I wouldn't find anything better, so I finished getting ready to head out. I snapped on the various holsters and sheaths, then looked in the mirror one last time. There's the Annie I know. There's the Annie that could make it on her own. I grabbed the rest of my things and caught up with Riley.

When I joined her beside the racks of guns she looked at me for a split-second and gave a small nod, "There was a nice looking truck with a near full tank of gas on the edge of town that I spotted when we came in," she picked up a bag on the floor that had a few barrels sticking out of it, "I've already filled it with some stuff while you were taking care of the walkers, I'll just need to get my things."

"You're leaving?" The moment I said the words I knew that she was. I had known she would, hadn't I? But there was this feeling in me; I didn't want her to go.

"I already marked where you need to go on the map over there," she nodded to the table and I picked up the paper. "There's a town nearby, Woodbury, don't go there." I noted the 'X' she'd marked over it.

"Why not?"

"When I was over there I watched them from afar, the town. There's something wrong with it, I can't tell you what, but I just know." I trusted her. I trusted her more than I'd trusted anyone in my life. If she was saying to stay away, I'd stay away.

I loaded up the remaining weapons and ammunition into two other bags and we made our way back to the car. I dropped the bags in the passenger seat that was going to now be vacant and she grabbed her things. "You sure you don't want to come with me?"

"There's a reason I was alone when I found you," she stuffed the last of her things into the bag, but left the scarf she'd tortured me with lying in the backseat next to a worn out copy of her book.

"What if I—"

"You'll be fine." She stepped away from the car, and I went to stand in front of her. It's strange how tall she looked then, I felt like a kid next to her. I'd always be a kid next to her. The sun was into its final fall behind the trees and I didn't want her to go.

"Thank you," I kicked the ground with my new boot a few times before I got the courage to look her in the face, "Thanks for saving me."

She punched my shoulder hard with her free hand, and there was no mistaking the smile on her face. "Let's not get all mushy about it," she started off towards her car, opening it and shoving the bag in. She looked back at me then, and in that stare there was an understanding. Chance brought her to me, and she pulled me out of the darkness. She didn't have to. She could've put me down that first day. But somehow she'd deemed me useful and I got to spend several weeks at her side. We'd rarely talked, but there was always that understanding; I'm useful enough not to kill. Then she saved me. She single-handedly saved my hopeless life when she had no business doing so. I wanted to say more to her, tell her how much it had all meant, but she just gave a quick nod, "Stay golden, Pony Boy!" She disappeared into the driver's seat before I could do anything. Then in seconds the car was down the street, and Riley was out of my life.

I couldn't help but let the total emptiness of being alone sink in then. Yes, I was going to hopefully be with people again soon. People I knew a bit even, people I loved a bit even. But they'd never know me like Riley did. No one ever would. I never had to say a word to her and she always knew. I'd never in a million years find someone who understood me like she had. I reached into the back seat and pulled up her scarf and book. I took a sniff of the bloody fabric. It still smelled like her. This scarf had saved her life, and then it saved mine. I looked down and opened the book, Fight Club. I couldn't keep the sides of my mouth from curving up slightly. I flipped through the pages; they were covered in underlines and notes. These were my totems, the marks of my savior. Two small reminders that for a few months I'd been worthy of living. I'd been useful enough to earn a place beside someone who didn't really need me. That meant more than anything she could've ever said.

There was no way in hell that I would fail.

And so Riley leaves Annie. :( I hope you liked this chapter! Please please review with your thoughts (she'll finally be getting to the group, hopefully!). A huge thanks to you guys for reading this thing. And a major tip-of-the-hat to LivinJgrl123 for creating Riley! Also, Sportyreffy (guest) to be honest with you "Don't worry about things before they happen. It makes you look stupid." is my own, learned through my life experiences and anxiety problems, but it makes me glad to hear you like it. It is good advice though, a phrase I live by.

Review! Oh, and I'm curious... How do you think the group (Daryl especially) will react when Annie shows up?