Happy New Year everyone! Is has been a few weeks since I posted I know! The holidays were crazy, my first week back at work was crazy. Starting now we are back to regular Sunday updates. Well I will try my best for Sunday updates, sometimes life has different things in /
Anyway here is the next chapter. Please let me know what you think I love all kinds of comments! Even the ones about my grammar! Though my Beta reader was not as /
Happy Sunday.
Chapter 15 Run
The afternoon found her back in her room in the infirmary. Legs crossed, she sat in the center of the bed, scanning the room around her. This had been her room since she had gotten here, this was all she knew. Close to the doctor, close to Daryl. By choice she noted, he wasn't living here before but had moved in because of her.
Guilt creeped into her veins then, solid and slow. She had changed his entire life; he had molded himself around her and her care. Sighing, she stood to empty the drawers and stack her things on top of the dresser. She would go she decided, it wasn't a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal, even though the idea of leaving this room caused her worry. For Daryl, she would move into his new place because he shouldn't have to live between two places.
There was a knock on her door when she was almost done gathering the things in the bathroom. Sighing, she set the plastic bag with her stuff on the dresser and went to open it.
"Hi," the doctor said as she stepped inside and sat in one of the chairs next to the dresser. "Are you ready?" She questioned, raising her eye brows.
Heavily, Pandora plopped herself down on the bed. She had been feeling good today, despite not really sleeping. She had left her room, gone all the way to Rick's and even ate with him, sort of. There was no conversation on her part but he didn't seem to mind. She had made a big choice to move, to become a bigger part of the community. Despite the low-level thrum of anxiety she was feeling, this was the best she had felt in a long time.
She would stay busy; she decided being busy didn't leave her much time to think and if she didn't think she would be fine.
"Pandora?"
Right, Denise was still there waiting to get her therapy started; wanting to dig deep into her trauma and talk about it. The heavy feeling was back again.
"Are you ready?" Denise asked again, she opened the notebook she had been making notes in. "I wanted to talk about what happened before you came here if you're feeling up for it."
"No." Her tone was sharper then she had meant, but the idea of talking about the noise in her head was creating more noise in her head. "I don't want to talk today. It's not helping."
Denise only leaned back, arms crossing over her chest. "Why do you think that?"
Pandora scoffed, tossing a strand of hair from her face with a shaking hand. Anxiety flared up, getting ready to choke off her thoughts. Her skin was tingling like someone was running their hands over her arms. She rubbed her arms hard until the feeling of the phantom touches was replaced by the heat from her own hands.
"I'm still the same mess I was when I got here. Nightmares every night, can't hold a fucking conversation." Every word became angrier, volume increasing as she spoke. Her eyes met Denise's who sat back, face calm. "Talking isn't helping." It wasn't, not to her at least, not when she went to sleep every night remembering something new.
"I'm not sure you remember what you were like when you came here." The other women noted casually.
Denise was right; she wasn't sure what she had been like. Even now, no one told her. But the wary glances and tight muscles of some of the people who passed her was hint enough. She had been violent, that much she gathered as she needed drugs to keep her calm and safe.
Anger boiled inside her now, though, anger that she wasn't as strong as everyone else. That she couldn't shove it down and move past it. She knew she wasn't angry with Denise, none of this was her fault. The anger took on a life of its own, finding new trains of thought to burn through.
"It doesn't matter." She snapped. "I'm done talking. I want to forget."
"Forgetting isn't going to help you heal," Denise said, leaning forward now. "What you went through was horrible, and if you leave it bottled up it may get worse."
Pandora was standing now, hands balled into fists and shaking at her sides. "I don't care!" She was screaming now. The anger was burning white hot. Anger at her situation, anger at what happened to her. "I don't want to remember anymore. I do that enough at night. Every time I close my fucking eyes I'm back there. Being raped over and over again, while watching everyone I love die. I'm done."
"Pandora. You need to sit and take some deep breaths okay? You need to be calm. We- "
Whatever Denise said next was lost in the roar of rage in her brain. She had to get out, she had to move. Anywhere was better than here, anywhere Denise wasn't was perfect. She suddenly couldn't stand to be in the same room as her and her never ending questions.
Dimly, she felt Denise reach for her arm. It was then that she realized she was standing at the door. Her body moved of its own accord these days. Shoving the other woman's hand off her arm, she was flying out the door. Down the steps, outside the house.
Her lungs burned as she ran, it had been so long since she had pushed herself like this. She could feel the eyes of others on her as she moved down the street, almost hear the whispers as she passed. She imagined what they said, whispering about her weakness or about how dangerous she was.
She didn't even know where she was going; she just knew that she needed to move and be out of that fucking room. Whatever rational part of her brain she had left was being over shadowed by anger. The sound of the wheels of the front gate opening caught her attention. Stopping, she turned toward it as someone was coming inside, and Sasha was leaving for tower duty. She was running again, this time for the gate, skirting around Sasha as she tried to reach for her. Then she was outside the walls.
Someone was screaming her name, Sasha maybe. Or Daryl, maybe Denise had woken him up. That thought only made her run faster.
She ran until she couldn't hear them calling her anymore. She ran down the street, around the corner and into a small cluster of homes. She had kept moving until nothing around her reminded her of Alexandria.
Only when every breath burned her lungs, did she finally stop. Allowing herself a single moment to close her eyes and catch her breath she stood unmoving. When the intake of air no longer set her lung on fire she opened her eyes again, taking a slow calculated inventory of her surroundings. Ahead of her was an apartment building low rise, three floors maybe. The rest of the street was scattered with old cars and garbage. Another apartment building stood to the left of the first, looted homes and shops filling up the rest of the space.
Everything around her was quiet, almost unsettling so. A few bodies lay around her but she paid them no mind. Turning to look back the way she came, she wiped the sweat soaked hair from her face. All she could see was the homes, the walls of Alexandria were nowhere in sight. Nothing around her reminded her of Alexandria nothing looking like the small cluster of buildings she had seen so many times on the other side of the walls. Hadn't that been the point, though? To move until there was nothing familiar until nothing reminded her of reliving her trauma.
It was then her brain finally caught up with her. It's only answer was a long scream of anger inside her head. What the fuck was she doing. She had run, saw an open gate and ran. Like a child thinking, she would outrun her monsters. Her fingers brushed across the knife at her belt, well at least she had that. Sinking down onto the ground, she let herself process for a moment. She had run, outside the walls where there were people, bad fucking people.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She slammed her head down on her knees. She let herself slip into the blind panic for a moment, it would be easier once that was over with. No, something in her brain screamed, sitting in the middle of the street was not the place to freak out.
Ok, she thought, finally controlling her breathing, focus you can do this. All she had to do was turn around and go back. Right? She couldn't have run for that long. Could she? The walls were huge, she would get close enough and then see the walls, and it would be fine.
Finally, she stood, brushing the dirt from the road off her jeans. Her hands had a light tremble, not that it was anything new. A hair tie rested on her wrist so she gathered the heavy strands of her hair and piled them on top of her head. Wouldn't want it getting in her face, she needed to be able to see.
"Daryl is going to kill me." She muttered, starting her walk back home. A groan drifted toward her. Great, of course, the dead would find her. "It's fine I can do this." She told herself. Reaching out, she gripped the knife in her hand keeping It out in front of her. It was not the first time she had killed one, it would not be the last. Something in her memory there was the sound of her Fathers voice, his slow patient instruction reminding her to always go for the brain.
The dead thing came stumbling toward her. Raising its head, it snapped its rotting teeth. It was a grotesque sight, to say the least, the skin of its torso was almost gone and whatever was left held small bits of branches. As she drew closer, her breath stuck inside her chest. On whatever skin was left on its forehead, a W was carved. She knew him, she had seen that face when he was alive.
Images threatened her, almost spilling over into the present moment. Images of him when he was alive, smiling eyes alight with madness. Gasping, she started to move backwards, hand fluttering to her throat. She almost turned to run, almost, but it would still be coming, it was still coming now.
The rage she had felt before burned through her again. Blood pounded in her head, rushing forward she plunged the knife into his skull. The body dropped down, hitting the floor with a hard thud. A steel toe boot came down on its head, she stomped and stomped until she saw bits of brain and bone. The anger was gone by then, slipping away once she had turned his head into paste.
Taking a breath, she wiped her hand across her face. Blood was now mixed with the tears she didn't know she had been shedding. Her eyes travelled downward, her shirt and jeans were slightly splattered in blood. Her boots were the worst, covered almost completely in blood and brain matter. It didn't matter, she told herself they were just things. No, they weren't and she knew that. The good stuff was hard to come by these days. Here she was pounding in a skull for no reason other than her own rage.
As she cleaned her knife, the tears were coming again. At this point, she wasn't even sure what she was crying about. Was it how stupid she was being or the shame of what she had done? It could be a many number of things her damaged brain was trying to focus on really, best not to attempt to discover the source of the tears rather let them run their course.
The breaths that she had been counting and controlling were now coming in short, quick gasps. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, pain shooting outward into her chest. She was having a panic attack. Part of her could recognise that now. Pandora struggled to move again. To her right, there was an empty car. Shaking fingers yanked the handle open and her body tumbled inside, shutting the door.
Struggling to breathe, she gripped her arms tightly, nails biting into her skin. Rocking back and forth slightly, she rode the wave of panic. It wasn't until the car door was ripped open that her vision cleared and she sprang back to the world.
Hands were on her, pulling her out of the car. Screaming and flaying, she pushed backwards, her head connected painfully with the side of the car door. Sparks flashed in her vision, blurring the face of whoever held her.
"Ah, bitch nuts." A voice growled. Arms tightened around her. "Come on kid breathe, it's me, it's Abraham."
Abraham? She thought. The sparks cleared and the world shifted back into focus. He was looking down at her, shock on his face. She tried to breathe deeper, but everything still seemed too much. With every breath, a sob joined it. After a few moments of trying to breathe, she was aware that he was speaking again. Not to her, she noted. She blinked past the tears, they were alone. When her eyes travelled down his arm she saw the walkie.
Her breathing was easier now Abraham's presence easing the panic. He would take her back now, he had been outside the walls enough that it would take no time to get back there.
"You good kid?" he asked, watching her again.
She nodded slowly, still trembling, she gripped his arm tightly. He started walking slowly now, she tried to follow but everything seemed harder again. Her brain misfired and her legs tangled with each other. She felt herself being lifted, she stiffened against Abraham's hold on her but didn't move. She was tired again and walking seemed to take too much energy, thus the discomfort of physical contact took a back seat. The dread of facing Daryl and Denise made her feel even more tired.
"Ya found her?!" The voice on the walkie was alert but panicked, it made her flinch and bury her head into Abraham's chest.
"I got her, heading back now."
They walked for some time, only when she saw the new watch tower did she realise she couldn't go inside, not yet.
"Abraham," She whispered. "Can you put me down."
He looked down at her then, eyebrows raised. "You gonna run off again?"
She shook her head as he watched her but decided to put her down gently. Her breath whooshed out of her.
"I can't go back yet." Her voice was hardly above a whisper but he heard it. "I can't-can't face him." She was shaking her head now, hair flying wildly around her.
He sighed, scratching his beard, "I can't leave you out here. If you don't come I gotta take you."
Understanding his meaning she nodded, walking to the gate herself. Fine, she would go. Staying out would probably only make him angrier anyway. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped through the now open gate, she could at least come back walking on her own two feet. Her walk back into the infirmary was slow, she tried to think about how she was going to explain this to Daryl.
As she got closer, a few of the residents of Alexandria gaped at her openly. Right, she was covered in blood. She found herself standing on the stairs looking at the shut door. Her hand found the railing to pull herself upward, when she reached the door she turned to wave at Abraham and mouth thank you.
The infirmary was mostly silent, Denise seemed to be gone and the only sound she heard was footsteps upstairs. Not normal footsteps, but the sound of someone pacing. When she reached the top of the steps she turned to her room, she knew that was where Daryl was going to be.
She reached out, turning the handle to open the door. She opened it only a crack to slip in. Her hands stayed on the knob hidden behind her back as she pushed the door shut.
The moment the door was shut; Daryl whirled on her, face bright red with anger.
"The hell were you thinking!" He roared, stepping into her personal space. "Ya just run! After everything ya seen outside the walls! Ya, take off! Ya didn't even have a goddamn gun."
Pandora flinched, turning her head to the side to avoid the hot anger of his voice. Her whole body tensed, she tried to push herself further into the door, but he closed the space between them standing impossibly close.
"What were yah thinking!" He was still dangerously close to her, shouting into the bubble of her personal space.
She gasped, hand flying out and palms pressing on his chest to try to push him away. "Daryl! Stop!" She shoved at him, fear raced through her tears pooling in her eyes. Images of fingers stroking her chin, hands sliding up her legs played on a loop in her brain.
As if he could see that, something changed in his face, his hands moved to his chest palms facing outwards as a sign of peace. Pandora sobbed, her hands pressing over her mouth to stop the sound. She was shaking, she had never seen him so angry before.
"Ahm sorry!" His hands were raised in front of him, stepping backwards to put a few feet between them.
Shaking her head, she turned away to face the door, her forehead pressing to the wood. Her hands were held into fists at her sides, nails biting into the soft flesh. Silence blanketed the room, neither of them knowing what to say.
He would never hurt her; she knew that after everything they had been through together. Seeing him like that brought back every memory she had worked so hard to cope with. Without a word, she headed for the bathroom, clicking the lock shut behind her.
Back pressed against the door, she slid down to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest. She could hear Daryl on the other side of the door as his boots shuffled against the carpet. She could almost picture him pressing his hand to the door. There was the sound of him trying to turn the handle, she had locked it for a reason. He would panic she knew, locking doors was something they agreed she wouldn't do as it wasn't safe. The feeling of shutting the door on him felt like she was shutting the door on all the memories that had surfaced.
A quiet moment was all she needed, just a moment to sort out everything in her brain. Behind her, the knob jiggled again. Once, then twice, before going still. The sound of heavy footsteps started moving away from the door.
Sighing, Pandora reached down; unlacing the boots she was wearing and pulling them off her feet. The smell was beginning to fill the bathroom. The idea of that smell ruining one of her favourite rooms caused her to stand and begin moving. First, she turned the water on in the tub and made sure it was scolding hot before she took a cloth to the boot to try to get the mess off. It took a while, but finally, they were clean and the only smell was the light scent of the body soap she had used to wash them.
"Now I smell." She muttered to herself. Whatever she was wearing went right into the tub which she had again filled with warm water.
Next, she got into the shower, the warm water running over her felt as close to God as she was ever going to get. It released the tension in her muscles almost instantly. Between the shampoo and conditioner, she wondered if Daryl was still waiting in the room. Part of her wished he was, she was calm enough now that despite his outburst, she wanted to apologise.
Rinsing her hair one last time, she shut the water off and dried herself off. Only when she was standing naked in the bathroom did she remember all her clothes were outside from when she was packing her things to move. A moment without clothes allowed her to inspect her ever healing body.
Her fingers traced the pink scar on her right arm; she didn't even remember how it happened. Higher on her right arm was the bullet wound from their time on the road. Her fingers traced it slightly, it was still tender and scabbed over but healing nicely. Denise did great work she had to admit, all the other scratches and bruising she had gotten in those days were slowly healing. Her skin was littered with small cuts and greenish yellow bruising, but everything seemed to be disappearing slowly.
Turning away, she wrapped the towel tightly around herself. The lock on the door clicked when she released it. Peeking her head out the door, she scanned the room. Perfect, it was empty. In a dash, she locked the bedroom door, no need to give anyone more of a scare.
Once dressed, everything felt more normal again, so normal that her stomach decided to remind her that she was hungry. With shaking hands, she pulled her wet hair into a messy bun on the top of her head, the weight of it feeling too much like hands around her neck.
Like a robot, she delivered instructions to herself. Walk to the door, open it, error, unlock it first, open it, go into the hallway, down the steps, into the kitchen, and open the fridge. When she opened the fridge, she brushed a note on the plate sitting in the fridge.
'Pandora- Thought you might be hungry. At Ricks'
After everything that had happened, his first thought was still to care for her. It brought a sick feeling of guilt to her mouth. She should still be mad at him from before but she didn't find that anger inside her. The words on the note sank in her gut, the random assortment of nuts, dried fruit and stale chips joined it, sinking like a stone to the bottom of her stomach.