And here is chapter 8 Sorry it took a while :/ It was partially because I was so busy and partially because I was waiting for some more reviews . But in honor of the premiere I'm posting this tonight Or at least I'll try. -_-" Fanfic is being very temperamental at the moment.
Anyways, please review! Seriously guys. I'll just say here that I'd like at least three reviews before I update :/
Hope you enjoy and TWD IS BACK! :D
Disclaimer: None of TWD characters are mine and The Giver is the property of Lois Lowry. I own nothing and make no profit off of this.
Chapter 8: Scars of the Past
"Got any fives?"
"Nah. Go fish kiddo."
Carl huffs and takes a card from the deck. A few seconds passes in silence.
"Got any Jacks?"
A groan fills the air and Carl jerks a card from his hand and tosses it at a grinning Shane. "You're cheating," he pouts, eyes accusing. The former cop schools his face into a mask of innocence and gasps in mock hurt, hand over his heart.
"You callin me a cheater Carl Grimes?"
For a moment, the young boy looks abashed, gaze flickering down to the table, before he lifts his head up to level Shane with a firm glower. "Yes."
Shane bursts out laughing but Glenn, who is sitting around the small table with them, cuts him off. "Carl's right man. You've won the last three hands." Glenn narrows his eyes and points an accusatory finger at the older man. "Something's up."
Shane looks at both of the younger males, sees they're serious, and lifts his hands up in a posture of surrender. His face is one of abject innocence. "I ain't a cheater. I swear," he says solemnly but neither Carl nor Glenn is really paying much attention now. They're both too busy staring at the cards that Shane has accidently flashed them, eyes flickering to their own cards to see what they have to match. I smirk at the strategy they just pulled and turn back to my katana, running the whetstone painstakingly down its length. Clever, guys. Clever.
"Wha-? Hey now! Talk about cheaters," Shane suddenly explodes and I listen as Carl explodes into peels of laughter and the older man slams his hand down onto the table. I peek a glance to see the young boy high five Glenn, both of them wearing shit eating grins. Shane looks a tad bit put out. "Hustlers. The lot of you," he grumbles as he crosses his hands across his chest and then he turns to me, pointing at the two boys who are still snickering. "Ya see what they did to me Audrey?"
I blink up at him from my crossed legged position on the grass, wide-eyed and demure. "I didn't see anything Shane. What happened?"
Shane narrows his eyes at me. "You're in on this too aren't ya?" I smile and tell him I have no idea what he's talking about. The boys go back to their game, albeit a different one, and Shane's made it clear that he's watchin them. I shake my head and lean back against the log behind me, letting their words flow over me as I close my eyes.
A week has passed since my spar with Shane and not much has happened. I can't decide if that's a completely a good thing. On one hand, I'm extremely grateful for the almost peaceful quality of the camp. It's almost like we are all just a bunch of friends, ok most of us anyway, and are all out camping for the weekend, telling stories around the campfire and swimming in the quarry; just having a fun, relaxing time. It's quiet here, almost complacent. I haven't seen a walker in days, not since I had ran out of East Point what seems like forever and a day ago. It's like…one can almost forget that the world has ended and lose themselves in the day-to-day happenings; the walkers a distant nightmare not to be touched upon.
And that's what worries me.
I open my eyes at the thought and purse my lips, gaze lazily scanning the quaint scene before me. I watch Shane, Glenn, and Carl play their card games; a few yards away I see Amy and Andrea talking to Dale; I observe Lori and Carol, who are walking past the RV with a few other women; and all around me, I see people go about their day as normally as they can. Everyone looks relaxed, calm, and truthfully, being in this camp is the first time that I have felt relatively safe since that night full of blood and fire in Dalton. But, try as I fucking might, I can't shake the knot of anxiety that seems to be stuck, throbbing, in the back of my throat. The first few days I was able to ignore it, push it away, bury it deep, but recently I'm constantly aware of it. It's almost like a living thing, a tumor, eating away at the good feelings I have found here. It's behind every word, every movement, even breath. Every moment of the day it seems my muscles are tense, my ears unconsciously alert for even the slightest sound, and every breath I take is bated, measured. It's like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop but I'm not even sure if the first one has. It's excruciating, this waiting for something to happen, something to go wrong because I know that… it has to. This contentment I feel now cannot last; not here, at the end of the world. I know it can't. I'd be delusional if I let myself believe that. Sounds pessimistic but I'm only being realistic because I know the second I let myself believe I'm safe, believe I'm fine, believe nothing can touch me…shit's gonna hit the fan. That's just how life is. My life anyway. Something has to give soon, something has to break, and I'm waiting for it, expecting it, but somehow I know, whatever it is, it's going to catch me off guard.
"Stop worrying so much sweetheart. You'll give yourself wrinkles."
I bite my lip at the sudden words in my head and try to go back to sharpening my sword, the knot tightening in my throat and now in my heart. Fuck, if only I could Mom. If only I could. I sit there for an interminable amount of time, concentrating on the rasp of stone one steel, half listening to Shane's instructions, Glenn's comments, and Carl's laughter. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, skating of my chin, and I'm lulled into a automatic, half awake state, my motions mechanical, unconscious, but precise.
"Shane! What are you doing?"
Lori's shrill reprimand pulls me out of dazed state and I look up to see her standing next to the table the boys are playing at, hands on her hips and a bucket of plants, I'm assuming edible ones, at her side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shane blink up at her, going for innocent once more but looking as guilty as a fox in a henhouse.
"Uh…hey Lori. I'm just playing some cards with Carl here," Shane says nonchalantly, but I don't miss how he sets his cards down or how Glenn and Carl are slowly trying to do the same. They all look guilty as sin. Lori narrows her eyes at the burly cop and cocks an eyebrow at him, a demanding expression that just screams I ain't buying your shit and you better tell me the truth right now. They are really in for it now. I can't help but wonder what they did.
"Shane Walsh…are you teaching my twelve year old son to gamble?"
I blanch at her words, at the tone of a protective mother. Oh shit. They are really in for it. So glad I had turned down Shane's offer to play.
For once, the man seems a loss for words, struck dumb by Lori's irritation. He stutters for a moment, flailing, drowning, and then all of the sudden Glenn, poor, sweet Glenn tries to join in, help out, and damn if he doesn't make it worse. "N…no! No Lori. We're uh…we were just showing Carl you know…some card games to uh…to teach him some probability skills." Lori raises her eyebrow higher and it seems to force Glenn to talk faster, his face red as a tomato and he really is a horrible liar. I want to just slap a hand over his mouth because I feel this is going to end horribly. However, all I do is sit there silently, out of the line of fire, watching this current train wreck unfold. "Yeah," he continues. "You know like 'A card is drawn at random from a deck of cards. Find the probability of getting the King of hearts.' That kind of stuff." The words are so rushed they trip over themselves as they spill from Glenn's mouth. Lori is silent for a few seconds.
"So what are the coins for then," she asks, pointing to the small pile of copper and silver coins glinting condemningly in the middle of the table. "More probability problems?"
I wince as Glenn's horrible lie takes a noise dive into the dirt. Ouch. Cue crash and burn. Lori looks expectantly at the men but when neither Shane nor Glenn can make a statement to the contrary she makes a noise half of triumph and half out of disgust before gesturing to Carl.
"Come on Carl. Glenn's reminded me that you haven't done your homework for the day. Let's get back to the tent and get started. We'll go find Sophia on the way." Her tone is no-nonsense and firm but somehow, Carl finds it in himself to argue.
"But Mom!" he exclaims, voice indignant, the finely tuned tone of a stubborn child, but Lori cuts him off with the finely tuned precision of a mother.
"But nothing mister. Come on now. You need to learn something. Something stimulating and productive," she says adamantly when the young boy opens his mouth again, presumably to argue that he was learning something. Still, Carl doesn't relent just yet, giving one last attempt to have his way.
"Mom," he whines again. "I don't want to do any more math problems or science questions. That's all we ever do." He pouting now and even though I know he's being difficult and just a bit whiny, I can't help but think he looks pretty cute with his round blue eyes and jutting bottom lip. What can I say? I'm a sucker for blue eyes.
Lori, however, doesn't seem to share my sentiment. "Well I'm sorry Carl but that's all we have. And you can't just sit around all day doing nothing. Come on now, let's go." She bends to pick up her bucket and half turns to go but Carl won't budge.
"But why do I even have to do homework? It's not like there's school anymore," he mutters petulantly before he looks at the man beside him for support. "Right Shane?" T
he previously silent man raises his hand up in a gesture of surrender, face mildly horrified because he knows better than to undermine Lori. "Hey bud. She's your mom. You need to listen to what she she's saying. We can hang out after you've done your work all right? I'll even take us down to the quarry for a swim afterwards," he grins thinly. Shane meant the words to be coercing and placating but Carl looks betrayed and slightly mutinous.
"I hate math," he grumbles to the table, one last parting shot, but he gets up anyway and moves towards his mom who's about to usher him away. Perhaps it's the words, or maybe the tone, or maybe even the combination of the two that force an idea to jump to the forefront of my mind; I can't really say. All I know is that one minute I'm watching Lori leading her son away, keeping quiet because it's not my place, and the next I'm talking.
"Hey Lori?"
The tall brunet woman jumps a bit in surprise and it's when she turns to look around in confusion that I realize she hadn't seen me sitting on the ground near the table, obscured by the small table Carl had been sitting at. Flushing slightly, I scrambled to stand, wiping my hands on my jeans as I set my katana on the tree stump I'd been sitting against.
"Audrey," Lori says with a smile, her eyes surprised but warm. "I didn't see you there."
I awkwardly grin back and chew on the inside of my lip, sticking my thumbs in my pocket. "Yeah, um sorry. I was just sharpening my sword, watching the guys play," I tell her lamely, gesturing behind me. She nods, still smiling, but I can see the strain around the edges, the awkward oh ok but what do you want. I bite my lip harder. Shit. What do I want? Why did I say anything again? Oh that's right. Carl. Fuck, but that's not my place. She's his mother. I shouldn't have said anything. I sh-
"Audrey?"
I start at my name. "Oh right. Sorry. Uh…" You know what? Fuck it. I've already started. Might as well see this through. Taking a deep breath, I lift my head and give Lori my best apologetic smile. "Sorry Lori. It's just I uh…I overheard you talking to Carl." The older woman slightly narrows her eyes at me.
"Yes. And?" Her tone isn't hostile, not quite. It's more…defensive? Something of that ilk but it still makes me shrink back a bit. I like Lori, a lot, she's a strong woman, nice and loving towards her son and the rest of us but, like Shane, I've learned to not really go against her.
"No, no! I don't mean anything bad by it I just…I heard Carl say…well he doesn't seem…" I huffed out a frustrated breath. This wasn't coming out right. "I just heard how you wanted Carl to learn something more…stimulating but Carl doesn't want to study math and science."
Lori looks more defensive by the second so, like Glenn, I rush to get my words out. "So I was wondering if you thought about maybe teaching him like English?"
For a second, no one says anything and I fidget in the silence. Why had I said anything again?
"English?" Carl finally speaks up, his voice and expression colored in confusion. "But…I know English."
I turn to the young boy and give him a small smile. "I don't mean teach you the spoken language Carl." The boy cocks his head, eyes inquisitive.
"Oh. But then what do you mean?"
He sounds intrigued and I can't help my grin from growing slightly. "I mean like grammar and literature and stuff like that."
Lori has her head cocked much like her son, blue eyes clear but slightly troubled. "Um…n…no I haven't. It's…we've been dealing mostly with math and science," she answers my question and I turn to ask her, or perhaps tell her, that I could help with teach Carl some English but Shane abruptly cuts me off with a derisive snort.
The former cop is leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head and a smirk on his face. "Yeah cuz that stuff's practical. Useful. Teaching him English? That would be a waste of time. Like he said, he can speak it. Anything else would just be pointless."
I balk at his callous and mocking words, turning to stare at him with hands on my hips. "Hey! It's not a waste of time," I snap at him curtly, my lips twisted into a dark scowl. Shane blinks at my sharp tone in surprise and opens his mouth to say something but I don't give him the chance. "Before all this crap I was going to be an English major. You think I'd waste all my time and money on something pointless?" I'm trying to keep my tone a little light, more disapproving than angry but…Shane's words really pissed me off, set an irritating fire through my veins. I can't help it; my reaction is a result of bygone days, a left over wound from years ago. I had spent the better half of my first decade on this earth being told I was useless, a waste of time and space. Hearing someone tell me that a passion of mine was a waste of time…it dredged up all those old feelings again.
Shane seems a little embarrassed and apologetic now, his dark eyes full of remorse as he sets his chair back on four legs and looks as me from across the table. "Ah…look Audrey. I…didn't mean to offend you or anything. It's just it's the end of the world ya know? That stuff…it just doesn't have a purpose now when all we're trying to do is survive. I'm sorry."
I'm standing there glaring at him, clenching and unclenching my fists unconsciously, indignation still pumping hotly through me but, as I stand there, thinking about his words, the fire slowly recedes and soon I just feel like I burnt out husk. Because he has a point. Poetry and literature, writing and reading, everything that I had wanted to do, wanted to be…it was useless now. Everyone was just trying to survive, like Shane said, busy wondering where the next meal was coming from and if falling asleep tonight is a safe thing to do. Novels, the books that I have always cleaved to, have no place anymore in the world. They're a thing of the past and who knows if they'll make it into the future. If the human race has one that is. My heart pinches at the thought. I have no past anymore, all of it is ashes and cinders, and now…now it hits me that I have no future, nothing to look forward except a life of hard living, of survival, of just trying to see each sunset and sunrise. No college, no career, no nothing. The revelation leaves me feeling strangely, achingly empty, like something has sucked out all my insides and left me hollow.
Distantly, I wonder at the irony of how something so small as realizing I will never be the writer or teacher I wanted to makes the apocalypse really hit home for me. To be honest…it's kind of pathetic.
"Shane," I hear Lori say and I glance over to see a frown etched on her lips.
The man lifts his hands up. "What? I was being honest." Lori still looks disapproving but I wave off her reprimand, suddenly tired.
"It's alright Lori. I…I'm sorry I said anything. Shane's right," I smile a bit bitterly. "Stuff like that…doesn't help us now. Carl can read and write. That's good enough."
But all of the sudden Lori is shaking her head at me. "No it's not. I want Carl to learn as much as he can. If…if this is ever settled," she says, and no one asks what this is. "I don't him to be held back or anything." Shane furrows his brow at her words and I can just see the questions of and comments about how does she expect this to end, and who the hell is going to hold him back if there's no one left, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut, settling for a brooding silence. "But," Lori continues with a troubled look and I turn my attention back to her. "I don't have any books for this and…I really don't know how I would teach it. I usually just go through the books, teach Carl from that."
Still feeling the blow of Shane's words and my own revelation, I'm hesitant to say anything now but Lori's looking at me almost expectantly and I feel my reluctance slowly give way. "Well," I tell her, tiredly rubbing at the back of my head. "I have some books back in my tent." I think back to the small stash of novels in the bottom of my bag, beneath clothes and other things, and mentally rifle through the few titles before I find an appropriate one. It's amazing that I grabbed that book at all. "I don't have much, just a few novels, but I think I have one that Carl and maybe even Sophia would like. I could uh…teach it to them if…if you'd like."
"O…oh. Well…do you know um…how would teach it to them," Lori asks, sounding hesitant and a little bit doubtful.
I try not to flush in embarrassed nervousness as I lift my head to stare the older woman in the eye, trying to look a little older, a little wiser than I really am. "I was uh…I was thinking I could teach it to them as I had learned it. Going through the chapters, inspecting the plot, trying to find motifs and themes, discern what the author was attempting to get across, how it pertained to real life. I…I read this book when I was around their age and I really liked it. I'd…I'd try to help them understand why I like it so much I guess."
The older woman doesn't say anything for a moment and I fear she just turn down my offer, decide that Shane is right and tell me never mind. If that happens…I think I'll just go lay down in my tent and sleep away the day. "I was in all Advanced Placement English courses if um…if that makes you feel any better," I add awkwardly, waiting for Lori to tell me no.
But she doesn't say no or never mind. Instead, after a few moments, she smiles gently at me and then turns to look down at her son. "What do you say Carl? Would you like taking English lessons from Audrey?"
The little boy, who had been silent for the last few moments, thinks about this for a few seconds before he grins at me toothily. "Yes," he says excitedly. "If she's as good a teacher as a sword fighter, this should be awesome."
I exhale the breath I hadn't been aware I was holding and as I shakily reach over to ruffle Carl's hair I am reminded of three things: why I wanted to become a teacher in the first place, for this innocent enthusiasm and genuine curiosity that all children retain, and of how much Carl has Manny's smile and Irina's sparkling eyes.
Fifteen minutes later I find myself standing at the same table Shane had been teaching Carl had to gamble on. The older male had vacated himself from the premises about the time I went to go search through my things for the novel I had told Lori about, I think he said something about getting some water from the quarry, but it seems not everyone had left. In fact, there were even more people now.
"What are you guys doing here," I ask Glenn and Amy who are seated side by side at the small, rickety table, talking. "I'm uh…I'm teaching Carl and Sophia here in a minute." The word 'teaching' feels awkward on my tongue when I know it's me going to be doing it and I try not to make a face. Amy looks up at me and smiles, wide and bright.
"We know," she says, practically bouncing in her seat. "That's why we're here. We wanna see."
I furrow my brow at her as I slip into the only empty seat. "You want to watch me…read? That's really all I'm doing today. Lori says I should teach them for about half an hour to forty-five minutes. Since I only have one book, I was thinking of just reading a few chapters out loud to them to…get used to it I guess."
Glenn grins at me, sly and mischievous, brown eyes twinkling. "So…we get story time. This is so awesome. Do we get naps too?"
I scowl at him and smack him none to lightly on the arm. "Glenn! Shut up!"
The Asian man grins a shit-eating grin as he tries to ward off my blows. "What about cookies? Can I get some apple juice as well?" He's laughing at me and I can feel my cheeks, and my ears burn red with embarrassment. I dart my hand out and shove him nearly out of his chair.
"Gleeeen! Please shut up. As if I'm not nervous about this already," I growl at him. "I don't need you making fun of me too."
Seeing that I'm actually anxious about my lesson with Carl and Sophia, Glenn's smile slowly fades and he looks abashed. "Sorry Audrey. I didn't mean to make fun of you. I was just…I was just teasing."
Hearing the remorse in his voice, I can't help but forgive him. I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and sigh. "It's alright," I tell Glenn. "I know you didn't mean it." Ducking my head, I look at my hands, curled protectively around my novel, obscuring it from view, and feel the butterflies in my stomach turn sharp and painful. "I'm just a bit…worried. I don't want to mess this up and look stupid."
Amy reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine. I look up to see her smiling gently at me. "You'll do fine," she says.
I cast her a tentative smile. "Thanks Amy. It's just I've never really done something like this."
"What? Read out loud?"
"No," I shake my head. "Teaching a novel. I can read them aloud just fine. I used to read all the time to my brother and sis—"
The words suddenly crash into the back of my teeth and I swallow them back down, chocking on serrated glass. All my nervousness and anxiety over Carl and Sophia are abruptly doused, eclipsed by an overwhelming sense of sadness. My surroundings go black and silent around me and it feels like knives in the back of my throat, on my tongue, in my lungs, as the reality of those words crash into me. "I used to read all the time to my brother and sister." I used to. Used to sit up at night and read Manny and Irina to sleep. Used to lull them to sleep with stories and tales of far away lands and heroes and heroines. But anymore. Because I can't anymore. Because I'm not home, not in Dalton, and they…they're…
"Audrey?"
Glenn's concerned voice pulls me from the precipice I'm slipping over and I snap my head up, chest tight and eyes burning, to see him and Amy staring at me in blatant concern and worry. "Audrey are you ok? You look…you just went white as a sheet," he tells me and Amy's nodding away beside him.
"Yeah. You look sick," she asks, half rising out of her seat. "Maybe I should go get Shane. Lori will understand if you don't do-"
"No!"
Amy freezes, half out of her seat, as I nearly shout at her. She blinks at me and I try to lower my voice, fingers curling into the cover of the book in my hands. "No," I repeat, more gently this time. "I'm…I'm fine. Sorry. Just um…got lost in thought." Amy doesn't look very convinced, a heavy frown etched into her delicate and fair features. Perhaps it's because I feel like I can barely breathe; perhaps it's because I feel the Earth moving underneath me, spinning too fast and too slow, spinning me off the world; perhaps it's because I can't fucking lie to save my life and I wear my emotions on my heart and on my face. Whatever it is, I need to calm down; I need to convince Amy I'm fine because if not she'll go get Shane who will bring Lori who will drag the whole freaking camp to come watch me fall apart. Don't need that. Don't want that. So I need to calm down. Calm down. I try and take a few deep breaths, get my feet back underneath me, but my lungs feel shredded and it hurts, every inhale aches and every exhale burns. I try to dig my nails into my hands but I can barely feel my fingers. I bite my lip, my cheek, my tongue; nothing helps. I still feel like I'm sliding off the edge of the world, their faces flickering before my eyes. Manny's smile, Irina's pout. Their laughter, ringing in my ears. Everything. Every last second. Fuck. Fuck.
"Goddamn it. Audrey, fucking man up. This is pathetic," I mentally growl at myself. I try harder, put every last effort into my last ditch attempt because I can feel the precipice looming beneath my feet, abysmal and bottomless. Lifting my head, still trying to catch my breath, I instead catch Amy's eyes and I zero in on her face, concentrating on bringing her blurry features into focus.
It takes a moment but slowly, her face becomes more distinct. I can see the soft curve of her chin, the arcs of her cheekbones beneath the flush of her skin. I trace the individual gold hairs in her eyebrows, follow the shape and curve of her eyes, take in the pale blue of them. And slowly, my lungs expand again and I can breathe; I can feel the Earth steady beneath my feet and my nerves connect me to my body once again; my palms sting where my nails cut skin. I take a deep breath, still shaky and a more than a little shallow, and offer my best smile to the girl who's already all the way out of her seat. "Amy," I call out, reaching over to snag her wrist. I do my best to look her in the eye and sell my lie. "I'm fine. Really I just…just…reminded myself of something I didn't want to be reminded of." It's the truth and maybe, maybe she'll understand.
And it seems she does because suddenly, comprehension leaps into her eyes and I watch her lips part in a small 'o' of pity. Shit, here we go. I bite my cheek, hard, bracing myself for the questions I don't want to answer, the memories I don't want to remember, but before any words can be said a loud voice cuts through camp.
"Sophia! Come on hurry up! We're gonna be late!"
I break my gaze away from Amy and turn to see Carl and Sophia rounding the side of the RV a few yards away, their mother's trailing behind them. Carl looks excited, animatedly talking to Sophia who nods along to his ramblings. Lori is shaking her head in exasperation but Carol just smiles on fondly. Shit. They're here already. I spin back to Amy and squeeze her wrist lightly before releasing her.
"I'm fine Amy. Just let it go alright?" I ask her.
She furrows her brow, looks like she wants to say something but as Carl and Sophia reach us she nods nonetheless and takes her seat next to Glenn once more. But what else was she going to do? She, like everyone else in this camp, knew there were some things we didn't speak of, the past, the walkers, and no one wanted to upset that balance. Let sleeping dogs lie; out of sight, out of mind and all that shit.
Out of sight, out of mind. "Ha, if only," I think as Manny and Irina continue to flicker on the fringes of my thoughts. I try my hardest, though, to push them away, bury them deep, as Carl and Sophia reach me.
"Hi Audrey," Carl grins, blue eyes dancing as he bounces on his feet.
"Hey Carl." I shift slightly to tuck my book into the small of my back, held in place by the belt of my tanto. "And hey there Sophia." The young girl gives me a shy twitch of her lips and a tentative wave of her hand.
"Hello."
I smile slightly as I look at the two of them and clap my hands together, pushing as much enthusiasm as I can in my voice. "Well, are you guys ready?" The two of them nod. "Alright then. Let's sit and I'll tell you what we are going to do today."
Turning in my seat, I shoo Glenn and Amy out of their chairs. They make faces at me but slip to the ground all the same, moving to sit on the log I had leaned against not long ago. In seconds, Carl and Sophia jump into their seats, whispering to each other in excitement. This feels so surreal; me the teacher, instead of the student.
"I don't know whether to feel offended or relieved that Carl is so excited for your lesson," Lori says as she and Carol walk up, their own fold out camping chairs in tow. She furrows her brow and plops her chair on the ground. "It's like pulling teeth when he's with me."
I chuckle, still slightly strained, at her partially put out expression, getting up to help her and Carol with their seats. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. I think that's just because you're his mom. You want him to do work and it's a chore. An older kid, like myself, says let's do some work and he thinks it's the coolest thing ever," I tell her before tapping my forehead. "Bit of reverse psychology for you."
Lori looks at me with a mildly impressed expression as she straightens up. "Sounds like you've done this before."
"I've…I've had a lot of practice."
Lori hums and then cocks her head at me. "So what book did you decide on?" I open my mouth to answer her but Carl suddenly cuts me off.
"Yeah," he exclaims behind me, causing me to turn around. He's sitting on the other side of the table, next to Sophia, practically leaning out of his chair. "Is it something with superheroes? Or…or aliens? Or, or what about-?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I laugh, holding up my hands to slow him down. "Hold your horses there. If you wait a second, I'll tell ya. Patience is a virtue Carl." The young boy looks slightly embarrassed but continues to grin at me over the table. Rolling my eyes playfully, I beckon Lori, Carol, Glenn and Amy a bit closer as I take my seat across from the kids. "Ok," I begin after everyone has settled. "Fair warning, I've never done this before so we're just going to play this by ear and see how it goes yeah?"
Everyone nods, even Glenn and Amy, and I then turn to the mothers. "And if you guys have any input or suggestions, even criticisms, be free to speak up. Again, I don't really…I'm new at this."
"I'm sure you'll do just fine," Carol says gently and I feel slightly warmed by her confidence.
"Thank you," I respond with a smile.
"Now Carl, Sophia, are you ready for me to reveal the literary delight that I have chosen to grace you with?" I ask them this question in an overly dramatic voice, dropping my volume to a secretive whisper. It's a little corny but I'm trying to get them pumped because, the sad thing is, I really kind of am. Plus, this will be a lot more fun if the two of them saw this as some sort of game or fun activity than actual schoolwork. It seems my diabolical plan has worked because the two of them nod like bobble heads. "Can I have a drum roll?" Carl giggles but lightly taps out a beat on the tabletop. Reaching behind me, I grasp the corner of the book and, after a suspense filled moment, pull it out with a flourish. The kids track my movements with awe filled eyes, the adults with amused expressions. "Da da da dum! I give you, The Giver by Lois Lowry," I exclaim.
Silence meets my enthusiastic declaration and Carl blinks at me, mirrored by Sophia. "The what?" he asks.
I blink back at him slowly. Did he not hear me? "The Giver," I repeat, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world because…to me it is. "The children's novel."
Carl purses his lips. "I've never heard of it," he says and Sophia adds on a similar response. I frown at them, what was wrong with schools nowadays, but then Glenn and Amy speak up.
"Same here," Amy says and Glenn echoes, "Is it a famous novel?"
I turn and gape at the pair of them. Ok, Carl and Sophia I can possibly understand, they are still young, their schools might not have covered it yet. But Amy and Glenn? Come on now! "The Giver," I say with emphasis. "Come on…you've had to have read it."
Glenn shakes his head. "Not at all."
Feeling a vague horror rise in me, I turn to Lori and Carol, who sit beside their respective children. "Guys?"
Lori gives me a sympathetic grimace. "Sorry Audrey. I'm with them."
"Me too," Carol says.
Balking at all six of them, I fall back in my chair with a muffled thump, shock evident on my face. "I can't believe ya'll are serious. This is just…upsetting. The Giver was like one of my favorite books as a child. Still is one in fact." As if that wasn't obvious enough.
"What's it about? " Carl asks, curiosity clear in his voice. Shaking my head, I huff out an exhale, blowing my long bangs out of my eyes as I sit up.
"Well, since you've never heard of it…it's a bit difficult to explain." Picking up The Giver, I stand it upright so the cover faced Carl and Sophia. Their eyes, as well as the rest of my audience's, zero in on the well worn paper back and I think about what they are seeing, trying to think of a way to introduce them to the novel. I think of the old man on the front, the Giver; think of his long beard and the grooves of the ages and memories that he had endured that are now carved into his features. An idea comes to me and I begin to talk.
"It...it's a story about history I guess," I start. Carl makes a face at that, part disappointment, and part disgust, and I laugh. "Don't get a head of me Carl; I'm not done." Lori nudges her son and fixes him with a stern look but I continue before she can reprimand him. "As I was saying, it's a story about history but it's also a lot more than that. The story centers around a boy named Jonas. He's about your age Sophia, just turning twelve." The little girl sits up a little straighter at that, her interest piqued. "However…Jonas lives in a world much different than ours. He-"
"He lives on a different planet?" Carl interrupts, blinking up at me. "So…he's an alien?" I chuckle and shake my head.
"Not quite. He lives on planet Earth, he's human, but…the way the world works is different. Like his cities and government are structured oddly. The people in charge in the novel try to make the world perfect but, in the end, they make it…worse in a way."
Sophia slowly raises her hand and I smile gently at her. She's such a sweet little girl. "You don't have to raise your and Sophia. When you want to talk just go ahead." She blushes slightly at my words and lowers her hand.
"Sorry," she says. "But um…how is the world worse? Does…does everyone…die?" Her question is so quiet, a mere whisper, but it is so blunt, so straightforward, that everyone goes still, frozen by her words and, more significantly, their meaning.
Does everyone die? Like in our world?
I bite my lip and refrain myself from slamming my face into the rickety table beneath me. Shit. Perhaps this wasn't the best choice in reading material. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Maybe I should just use another book. I have that book of poetry. That seems like a better choice now. But my mind is torn because The Giver is a classic and hiding away from anything and everything that reminds us of our situation won't always work. Maybe if we do accept it, piece by piece, beginning with the small things like this, we'll learn to accept our fate. Whatever it may be.
It's doubtful, very doubtful because I can't even face our reality, but hey that's me, ever the optimist.
Returning to Sophia's question, I shake my head. "N…no," I tell her. "Some people do but their world has changed so much, the people of the book don't see it as death. They don't really know death. Society…um the people in charge, have taken that part out of their lives for the most part."
"So it's a sad book?" Amy is staring at me with misty eyes and sounds vaguely upset, as if saying like we need any more sadness and crap have I ruined this before I've even really started?
"Um…no, not really. It…has sad parts but so does every good novel. This story is more…it's more of a book about growing up." I'm trying to save this Titanic but everyone looks kind of skeptical, Lori and Carol even look a little distraught, of my reading choice now and shit, I really have fucked this up. I groan under my breath and rank a hand through my knotted and uneven hair.
"Look," I say, turning to look at everyone in turn, pleading for them to listen, to give me one more chance. How had this gone downhill so fast? "I know it sounds strange but it really is good. Jonas, the main character, has to learn to grow up, to think for himself, to distance himself from everything he has ever known in order to…well in order to survive in the end. It's hard for him, very hard, he's only a young kid, but he's able to grow and become stronger, more independent, because of it."
No one says anything for a moment and I have a split second to wish like hell that I had never said anything about this book in the first place…when Carl asks, "Does he save people?"
The question is so odd, so incongruent for the moment that I answer without hesitating. "Yes. He tries to save his family and friends and he ends up rescuing a baby in the end."
Carl has a contemplative look on his face and when he speaks up it's quiet and hushed, as if he's embarrassed to ask the question or scared to hear my reply. "Do…do you think I could be like him?" I'm taken slightly aback by his inquiry but then, when I give it some thought, I am amazed at the empathetic connection that Carl has already found in this book. Just like Jonas, his world has been flipped on its head, crashed and burned, and just like Jonas…he has to learn how to survive in this brave new world. We haven't even started reading it but already…Carl has learned something. I try not to feel idiotically proud.
"I think you already are," I tell Carl with a smile and he practically beams. "As are you Sophia," I say to the girl sitting next to him and she looks at me with big, unbelieving eyes. "What? You don't believe me?"
Sophia blushes and minutely shakes her head, toying with a butterfly barrette in her hair. "N…not to be rude A…Audrey but…I don't think I could be as brave as Jonas." Something in her voice, something small and fragile and vulnerable, has my heart constricting in sadness. This little girl…reminds me a bit of myself when I was younger; reminds me of a child Audrey who was insecure and timid before she learned being like that only lead to bruises and broken bones. Leaning slightly across the table, and setting down the book, I put my hand on Sophia's and squeeze gently, looking into her pale colored eyes.
"I think you could be. Very much. But," I say. "Don't take my word for it. Why don't you see for yourself? I'm sure when we start reading you'll see a lot of yourself in Jonas and a lot of him in you."
Sophia bites her lip but then nods. "Ok."Carol looks at me with gratitude as I draw back into my seat and I give her a responding smile before picking up The Giver and flipping back the well-worn pages to Chapter 1.
"Alright so after that slight detour, is everyone ok with me getting this show on the road," I ask and now everyone is smiling at me, the oppressive atmosphere from moments before lifted by Carl's insightful and endearing comment. As I lift the book closer to my face, I look at the two children before me and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that…however small it is, if it even exists anymore, I am teaching a part of the next generation. In all the turmoil, in the roller coaster that I have perpetually been on since the beginning of the end of the world, I never expected this to happen. It seems that silver lining crap really depended on perspective.
An impatient noise, courtesy of one Carl Grimes, pulls me from my introspection. "Alright, alright, I'm going. But, just so you know, this isn't just story time," I tell him with narrowed eyes. I don't think I've pulled off the stern teacher look quite yet because Carl continues to grin at me. "I'll read the first few chapters but I'll stop every so often to ask questions. Also, as we get further into the book, you two will read out loud instead understood?"
"Yes, Miss Bennet. Now can we please get on with the story," Glenn groans out beside me and I shoot him a playful glare before consenting. Clearing my throat, and trying to quell the nerves in my gut, I settle my gaze on the familiar words; almost immediately falling into the webs they weave, lost and set adrift on the sea of the story.
"It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened."
I suppress a grin as my mouth continues to speak. This, when everything else I once had is now gone, feels like coming home.
Everything goes really well after I finally get the ball rolling. I get through the whole first chapter in about ten, fifteen minutes. Even though nothing of importance has happened in the first few pages, Carl and Sophia seem to be enjoying themselves. They are full of questions and comments, curious and bright, as all children are.
"Why does Jonas get in trouble for teasing his friend? Is released a bad word," Carl, asks, interrupting me as I get to page 3.
I wrinkle my nose at him playfully and tell him to just wait and that he'll learn everything eventually. He pouts slightly but then he's grinning as I start up again. I don't get another paragraph, though, before Sophia is asking about why Jonas' friend Asher is forced to apologize to the class. Some people would find all these interruptions irritating but I can't keep the stupid, idiotic, grin off my face as I discuss the novel with Carl and Sophia. Without giving too much away, of course.
Funnily enough, even, Glenn and Amy are interested, adding in comments here and there, and Lori and Carol are intrigued, as well as grateful that their children are learning something, and heaven forbid, having some fun while doing so. This is going a lot better than I had anticipated and I, for one, am having a great time.
I'm halfway through the second chapter, however, my mind half formulating some kind of discussion questions to give to the kids afterwards, when everything goes straight to hell in a nicely wrapped hand basket. I don't even see it coming; just obliviously continue with the lesson. "Rules were very hard to change," I read, my voice rising and falling in an easy cadence. Mom always said I had a lovely reading voice. "Sometimes, if it was a very important rule unlike the one governing the age for bicycles it would have to go, eventually, to the-"
And then I crash headlong into the ground and burn.
"What the hell is goin on over here?
My voice screeches to a halt, cut off and chocking as the irate words vibrate through the air. I jerk my head up in confusion, about to open my mouth to ask what's going on but suddenly, someone gasps and I feel more than see everyone go tense around me, like a wire pulled taunt. I have to blink in the mid-day glare but my vision clears to see Ed Peletier, Carol's husband, standing a few feet away from the table we are all situated around, a cigarette burning angrily between his lips. He's dressed in an old wife-beater, a dirty button up thrown over the top, and a seemingly empty beer bottle hangs from the fingers of his right hand. I'm just thinking where the hell he got that beer, and what the hell he's doing here, when he speaks up again.
"I said," he growls out again, his glassy eyes glaring at us menacingly. "What the hell is goin on here?"
Silence meets his inquiry and I'm…bewildered. I haven't really spoken to Carol's husband much, at all that is, and was kind of under the impression that perhaps he was mute. But something about him, something in his stance or in his voice, sets me automatically on edge, my previous contentment evaporating away like water under the Georgia sun. I feel my muscles go tense and my fingers curl around the edges of The Giver. What is going on here?
"E…Ed," Carol suddenly speaks up and my gaze snaps back to her, taking in her pale face and shaking words. "I…we…Sophia's doing some school work. I…I thought I told you…"
Ed takes a livid drag off of his cigarette before flicking it angrily towards us. Lori automatically shifts to shield her son and I watch as Carol flinches and Sophia suddenly sinks into her seat. The glowing cherry bounces on the table, rolling to a rest inches from my hands on the table. The silence of our table screams. "And I thought I told you I had no more goddamn clothes. You should be doing something useful instead of wasting time here."
Carol ducks her head, I can't see her face anymore, and folds her hands in her lap. "O…ok. I'm sorry," she whispers and a flare of recognition goes off in the back of my mind as I take in her posture and suddenly I know, with all certainty, just what is going on here.
But nobody says anything and then Ed scowls angrily at Carol and suddenly lunges forward, before any of us can even blink, and grabs her wrist, bodily jerking her out of her seat. I can hardly stifle a gasp and a flinch as Carol just nearly whimpers as her husband hauls her to him. What the fuck? What the fuck?
"Come on. We're going back to the tent and you will wash my damn clothes ya hear? I'm tired of waiting for your stupid ass to finally get something right. Sophia, you too. Come on now."
I'm in shock, complete and utter astonishment, as Sophia, with her chin tucked firmly into her chest, slowly begins to slink of her seat. This…this isn't happening. Can't be. I was just reading…we were just having fun. How the fuck can this be going on right before my eyes? I turn to Lori, practically begging for an answer, wondering when my life became such a roller coaster of ups and downs, but she has her gaze glued to the tabletop, a stiff arm wrapped around her son, who's also looking down. They were…ignoring this. Like it wasn't happening. Like it was all right. I swing my gaze frantically over to Glenn and Amy but Glenn has his hat in his hands and is playing with the worn brim of it. Amy is the only one to meet my eyes but her own are wide and sad and when I blink at her, tilting my chin at the Peletier's, she just shakes her head at me, as if to say It's not our place. Leave it alone.
It's not our place. Leave it alone.
That's just what everyone said about my situation years ago and I remembered praying every night that someone, someday, would finally hear me screaming on the inside and save me from my living hell. No one came for me until it was too late; I was already damaged. I think of Sophia, of her inquisitive eyes and her sweet demeanor. How can I sit back and let this happen to someone else?
I can't.
And if someone else isn't going to say anything, I'll be fucking damned if I am silent too.
Before I know it, I'm shoving my chair back, the flimsy thing clattering loudly to the floor. Everyone snaps their head up to look at me, eyes wide, mouth agape, but I ignore them. There's a dull roar in my ears and I'm focused on Ed Peletier who is freezing mid step, turning his head to glare at me in challenge…and a little bit of surprise. I don't know what I'm going to say, what I'm going to do, I haven't thought this through, but I can't stand by and watch as Carol's skin is bruising before my eyes.
"Ya got something to say," Ed snarls at me and I watch as he tightens his grip on Carol's wrist, causing her to whimper again.
"Ya wanna say something ya little bitch," another voice suddenly echoes in my head, a memory, a nightmare. White-hot rage floods, abrupt as a bolt of lightning, and I open my mouth to tell this son of a bitch that yeah I had something to fucking say alright but someone cuts me off.
"Audrey," Lori hisses under her breath, eyes are wide but commanding as they stare up at me. "Sit down." I purse my lips at her in defiance but, again, I am interrupted mid thought.
"No. She got something to say, she should say it! Well, what the hell ya have to say to me," Ed barks at me and, for someone who as never conversed with me before, he is inexplicitly hostile and hate filled. Makes two of us then.
But before I can speak my mind, Carol catches my eye. "Please," she mouths, eyes bright and full of tears. "Don't."
And that just suddenly pisses me off more; that this wonderfully kind woman, with her gentle heart and genial words, is abused by this motherfucker in front of me so much…she doesn't even fight it any more. There are fucking dead people walking around and still, there are monsters like this is the fucking world. Bile rises in the back of my throat, chocking me, but I swallow it down, along with my words because if Carol doesn't want me to say anything…I can't help her. I grit my teeth, listening to the grinding noise over the roar of blood, and reluctantly sit back down. Ed snorts at me, an ugly ass expression, sneering as he jerks Carol again.
"That's what I thought. Now, all of ya'll stay the fuck out of my business or next time we'll be havin more than words." With that, he spins around and stalks off back towards his tent, Sophia and Carol reluctantly in tow.
It's silent in the following moments, I can hear the buzzing of the cicadas, the murmuring conversations of the others around camp, and it just makes me angrier and angrier until I'm nearly shaking. My teeth are still clenched and my fingers are curling into fists. There's a stinging sensation in the heart of one of my palms but I pay it no mind, still reeling from what had just occurred. After a few moments, someone touches my hand suddenly and I jerk away, my palm falling open and the cherry of Ed Peletier's spent cigarette rolling back onto the table. I stare at small red smear of burnt skin on my palm in disinterest before someone touches me again and calls my name. Lori is looking at me in concern and worry.
"Are…are you all right?" she asks me quietly and I see Glenn, Amy, and Carl standing behind her, crowding around me. I shake my head at her words and she must think I'm answering negatively to her question because then she's asking me if I would like water or to lie down or-
"I want to know why you didn't say anything."
I say the words quietly but with conviction and I'm looking into Lori's eye as I say them. She blinks back at me in silence. "Why didn't you say anything," I repeat, a little louder, and this time, I swing my eyes to stare at Glenn and Amy too. "How could you just sit by and let him…let him hurt Carol like that? Does this happen often?"
Their silence answers my question.
"It wasn't…our place," Lori says and god I fucking hate those words. I jerk away from Lori, staggering upright, and I'm glaring at her with a combination of a sneer and a scowl. All the good feelings from moments before are gone, The Giver and our lesson is some distant fucking dream, and in this moment…I almost hate her.
"So just because it's not our "place", we're just going to let him treat Carol like shit?" Lori glares back at me slightly but I hardly care.
"Audrey, please watch your language around my son." Her words are cold but they stoke the fire in my veins all the same.
"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Grimes. I forgot that cursing was a higher offense that domestic abuse. Have to teach Carl his priorities right?" Lori looks taken aback by my words and I hear Amy gasp and I know I should just shut the fuck up but I can't, I can't, because this is hitting too close to home too quickly and I suddenly realize I need to get out of here before I say more shit that I regret.
Not looking at Lori or her son, avoiding the gazes of Glenn and Amy, I reach down beside the table and snatch up my katana, buckling it on in a few swift moves. I don't know where I'm going but anywhere is better than here. As I move around the table though, an idea occurs to me, a stupid one, really idiotic, but in my rage, I'm not processing things correctly and before I stalk off, I'm lifting the hem of my shirt up, exposing the left side of my rib cage. The open air feels good on my over heated skin but there's a spot, a winding strip of skin, that I can't feel a thing on, not even the blow of the wind. Lori makes a chocking noise, sick and revolted, similar sounds coming out of Glenn and Amy, as she catches sight of the thick, jagged scar that runs across my side, reaching from just under my bust to the bone of my hip. I feel some kind of sick, detached, satisfaction as she blanches of all color.
"You say it's not your place," I say quietly but the fury is evident in my words. "But if everyone says that, whose place is it to stop thing's like this from happening?"
Lori doesn't seem to have an immediate answer, she's still staring at me with bulging eyes, and I don't wait for one. Dropping my shirt back into place, I spin on heel and walk away, almost feeling the bite of the blade against my side even twelve years later.
"Audrey Bennett you have to be the world's largest fucking idiot."
My reflection stares back at me blankly as if to say you're just now realizing this? I groan and toss a rock into the water, scattering the image of my face and sending ripples stretching across the quarry. I can't believe I had done that. Ok, well first of all, I can't believe I had seen what I had seen. I've been here for over a week but I never suspected that Carol, sweet fucking Carol and Sophia, were living with…that. But thinking about it now…it was the most obvious goddamn thing in the world. Carol's demeanor, the way she acted around everyone, the bruise I had thought I'd seen under the hem of her shirt but wrote it off as just a smudge of dirt. Fuck, have I mentioned I'm the world's biggest moron?
And then what I said to Lori; what I showed to Lori. Christ. I think that just takes the fucking cake. If this were an Olympic sport I'd take the gold, silver, and bronze. Another wretched groan tears itself out of my throat and I drop my head to my knees. Maybe if I just curl up into a ball of patheticness the world will finally take pity on me and just swallow me fucking whole. After a few minutes of still silence though, where nothing happens except the fact that I keep breathing, it doesn't seem that the world gives a fuck about me either way. Tch. Well what's fucking new?
Sighing, I lift my head off my knees and stare out across the quarry. The blue water stretches out before me, wide and tranquil, and as I sit here on this boulder, on the edge of the lake, I can't help but feel that I'm a lot like this little watering hole. Calm and placid one moment but, with a subtle change, a subtle shift, I'm cast into ripples. "Well…I'm mostly like this quarry," I think as I stare back down at my reflection. Unlike it, I don't go back to placid very easily. My ripples go on for miles.
Speaking off ripples, I uncurl from my fetal position and reach for the worn hem of my shirt, peeling it back like a poisonous snake is waiting underneath. Well, the ropy six inches strip of skin that meets my gaze kind of resembles one to be honest. Wincing at the sight, I tentatively trace the tips of my fingers down the length of my scar, following the dips and grooves, the ripples, as they traveled across my skin. Shit. I really shouldn't have shown them this. That…there are no words for how fucking stupid that was. I could live with my challenge of Ed, that fucker, that trash that didn't serve to live,deserved someone to step the fuck up to him. I could even handle snapping at Lori. I was emotionally distraught, my "innocent" eyes seeing something like that; she'd understand. But my scar…my fucking scar? I must have been high. I must have been having a stroke. Because what the hell else could explain me doing that? No one had seen that scar outside of my family in years and outside of my family only a handful of doctors, my caseworker, and a judge had ever seen it. And now I'm just flashing it to complete strangers in bursts of blind anger. Perfect. Growling to myself, I cover the evidence of my past again and lean back on my rocky perch, feeling the rough surface dig into the skin of my elbows. I'm still angry, at myself, at fucking Ed Peletier, at the world, but…again Sensei comes back to bite me in the ass, whipping me into shape like all those years ago. "Anger helps nothing, Audrey. It only clouds your mind," his voice says, reverberating through my mind. I want to ignore him; I have had a trying day all right? I think I deserve to be angry for just a fucking little bit. And for a while, I do ignore him, push him aside, just wallow in my self-pity, but like always, Sensei is right. Staying angry just wastes my energy and my time.
Sighing, I glare tiredly down at katana and tanto at my side. "Why do you always have to be right," I mumble to no one. "It's a really irritating quality Sensei." Mostly because him always being right means I'm always wrong. Story of my life there.
I sit there for a while longer, just listening to the cicadas in the trees and the lapping of the water on the shore. The leaves are green here, the water crystal blue, and damn if it isn't peaceful. I could stay here all damn day, just ignoring the fucked up world around me…but I know that that's really not an option. It's only mid afternoon, hours before sunset, but I know that eventually I'll have to go back to camp, have to face the consequences of my actions. I huff out a breath and close my eyes, letting my skin soak up the baking Georgia sunlight. Well…needless to say…I don't think I'm having another English lesson with Carl and Sophia like ever. I shot myself in the foot on that one. More like both feet actually. Add that to the fact that I'm almost a hundred percent positive that the entire camp knows about my horrendous looking scar, and will probably be waiting for the story behind it…this day can't possibly get any worse.
And then, all of the sudden, just to prove me wrong again, a shuffle, the sound of feet on stone, sounds behind me, and my muscles going rigid in fear. Not even breathing, my fingers inch out to grab the hilt of my katana, ready to yank it from its sheath before a muttered "Aw fuck," reaches my ears. Relaxing, only slightly now that I know it's not a walker, I spare just enough time to stare at the sky and think "Really?" before I turn around to see who finally had come to find me.
…you know…if I haven't said it before, I think now is the time to say it. The universe really is a fucking bitch.
Daryl Dixon seems to be thinking the exact same thing because he's looking at me with this curl to his lip like he's just come across something disgusting. Joy. My day just got so much fucking better. "The fuck you doin down here," he snarls at me, the first words he's said to me in a week, shifting what I realize is a new pair of clothes in his hands. I blink. Oh. So he was coming here to shower? Yeah, well he can fuck off.
"Last time I checked, you weren't my fuckin father Dixon. I can go wherever the fuck I want," I snap back at him, meeting him glare for glare. He rolls his blue eyes at my caustic comment, and bears his teeth at me. I sneer back at him in response and then turn back to face the lake, waiting on his departure, which is inevitable since he can't stand to be within fifteen feet of me. Feeling's mutual.
In the past week, since Daryl said that shit to me in front of Merle, rejected my metaphorical hand of…not friendship, maybe mutual truce, I hadn't been within earshot of the asshole. Didn't want to be. He'd made sure of that after all. I'd made sure to bypass and skirt the Dixon part of camp; I'd made sure to stay out of the woods, which is their domain. I'd taken every damn precaution. Today, though, it seems the world's not done screwing me over but right now, I especially don't want to deal with Daryl freaking Douchebag. I just don't have the fucking patience.
It's quiet for a moment but I know he's still here, I can hear him breathing behind me. God, why won't he just leave already? I'm about this close to just turning around and telling him to fuck off but then he's cursing me out under his breath and I hear him move. I feel triumphant for a moment, yeah that's right asshole you leave, but then I realize he's not moving away from me, back into the woods and up the fucking hill. His footsteps are closer, his breathing nearer and what the fuck he's moving towards me?
Whirling around, I heighten my glare as I watch Daryl stalk past me, walking about five feet away from the boulder I'm sitting on before he drops his clothes at his feet. I'm confused as well as angry and I scowl at his profile.
"What the hell are you doing?"
He was supposed to leave! Daryl casts me a sidelong glower, his blue eyes piercing me, before he's…taking off his shirt? What the fuck!
"The hell does it look like I'm fuckin doin. Came down here to bathe," he says as he flings his sleeveless shirt to the ground. I continue to gape at him, my cheeks burning red as I catch sight of his chest, the skin streaked with dirt and corded with muscle and holy shit is that a tattoo? Shaking my head, I try to glower at him but I'm pretty sure I fall short.
"But I'm here." My voice is incredulous, abnormally high pitched because this wasn't fucking happening, Daryl Dixon is not stripping in front of be because I can't have this many crazy ass mother fucking things happen to me in one day. But apparently I fucking can, because Daryl just shrugs at me and bends over to untie the laces of his boots.
"So what? I ain't walkin all the way back without bathin cuz of fuckin modesty. Ya don' like it? Fuckin leave."
I continue to gawk at him, watching as he toed off his boots, my flush spreading to the back off my neck and up to my ears. "I was fuckin here first. You fuckin leave Dixon," I snap back at him, trying to disguise my embarrassment with irritation. I don't think my childish comment intimidated him much because Daryl just snorts at me and reaches for the button of his jeans. He flicks it open with a jerk of his wrist.
"Make me bitch."
I'm about to fucking say something, like what the hell did he just call me, but then he's tugging down his zipper and I balk before spinning around to face the opposite way, every inch of my skin flared red. The next few seconds are silent save the sounds of rustling clothing as Daryl drops his jeans and the splash of water as he walks into the lake. He doesn't say another fucking word but he's right fucking there, bathing, and fuck it, I'd rather deal with Lori's questions back at camp.
Cursing under my breath, I reach blindly behind me to grab my katana, shifting to jump down unto the ground and hightail it back to camp but then a thought occurs to me. I was here first; Daryl is the one that walked up on me. Why the hell should I leave? This isn't his fucking planet and I shouldn't have to bow down to some redneck asshole. Clenching my jaw, I bring my legs back unto the boulder and sit Indian style, glaring out over the quarry. I'm not leaving. Daryl has a problem with it than he can leave.
My cheeks are still throbbing red but I do my best to ignore it and ignore him. Doesn't really work that well though. I'm still fidgeting, plucking at the loose threads on the end of my jeans, twirling them around my fingers as I listen to him fucking bathe. I wrinkle my nose at the thought. I feel like a damn pervert but…damn it I was here first! Besides, he doesn't seem to mind, the asshole. He hasn't even said anyth-
"Ya just gonna sit there? Hopin for a glimpse kid?"
I jump at the sudden, biting, words, he wasn't supposed to talk damn it, but then I finally process them. Oh that son of a bitch! Indignation flaring in me, I almost spin around but then I remember why the hell he just said that to me and I pause mid turn. Gritting my teeth, I glare down into my lap, making sure to keep my head ducked so I don't catch a glimpse of fucking anything I really don't want to.
"Fuck you Dixon," I bite out, feeling all the pent up emotion from today come rushing back to the surface. God, this fucker just pushes all my buttons! The Lord is really testing me. I just wanted a little time alone for Christ's sake! "The only reason I'm still here is because despite what you and your dickface brother think, the world doesn't revolve around the name Dixon. I'll sit wherever the hell I want to sit alright?"
Daryl grunts behind me and then I hear him make a disgusted noise before he hacks and spits. "Merle was right," he drawls out, smooth and cool. "Yer just some uppity, spoilt, city girl who doesn't know how to shut her goddamn big mouth. Maybe he was right about me leavin ya in the woods too."
By the time his words reach me, I don't even hesitate before I'm whirling around, barbs on my tongue. In the back of my head, I have just enough sense left to hope the water covers at least something. I am just so fed up with him. "God, what the fuck is your problem with me?" I shout at Daryl, nearly shaking with all the emotion I am feeling. "Since I fucking met you, you've been nothing but a grade A fuckin dick."
The hunter is waist deep in the lake, thank God, but he's frozen solid by my words, a bar of soap in one hand, still dripping water. I try not to look at his now clean, but no less muscled, chest or his flat abdomen; I keep my glare focused on his face and his wide blue eyes. "So what is it huh? Huh Daryl? Is because I'm from a city and not some backwater, hillbilly town like you? Is it because I broke your nose? Is it just because Merle said I'm a bitch that you hate me? What is it? Just fucking tell me what because I'm tired of you going for my throat and not knowing fuckin why. Solve this mystery for me will ya?"
I'm panting by the end of my tirade, my chest heaving with the exertion. But damn…did that feel good. I'd been wanting to say that shit for over a week now. Daryl stares at me for a moment, seemingly in shock, and his expression, for once, isn't pissed or completely closed off. It's open and gaping and oh wait never mind. There's the anger. He scowls at me, thick and dark, and looks like he wants to take a step forward, in fact he takes half of one, but then he feels the water lap at his waist, right on his prominent hipbones, and he thinks better of it.
"My problem," he grinds out, tossing his bar of soap back up onto the shore, the white bar skittering in the dirt. "Is the fact that yer just some entitled asshole like the rest of them up there." Her jerks an arm up, stabbing a finger up the hill. "Always whinin bout how the world isn't fair or how hungry you are. Demandin where yer food is. I ain't yer goddamn personal chef!"
And there. It's out in the open; all that shit that's been festering between us. And oh hell no.
I stare open mouthed at him for a second but then I'm spinning all the way around, completely facing his direction, and stabbing a finger at him. "I offered to help you, you stupid son of a bitch! I came to you, I thanked you, and I tried to make friends. I offered to help you with the food, the skinning, anything else you needed a hand with, and what the fuck did you do? You threw it back in my face the second good ole Merle showed up."
"Don't talk bout my brother," Daryl snarls at me but I ignore him.
"You say you're pissed because I'm entitled and ungrateful? I call fucking bullshit because I tried. I, me, Audrey, offered and I don't see anyone else stepping up to help your ass. Shit, I guess I see why now," I say disgustedly at him, my lip curled in emotion.
Daryl, amazingly, is stumped at my outburst. I watch as his jaw works, clenching and unclenching, his fists following mimicking the movement. I raise an eyebrow at him, challenging him to prove me wrong but he can't; he has no words because he knows I am right. When that realization hits him, he scowls at me again.
"Tch," he grunts and then he looks away, out across the water. The silent between us stretches sharp and precarious, painful. I purse my lips at the younger Dixon brother and debate whether on just leaving now. I've made my point and me leaving now would be on my own terms. But…something Daryl said, about him not being our personal chef, nags at me. Like a splinter, a thorn in my side. Because he's right, despite the other shit he said. It's unfair that we all just expect him to bring the food back. He doesn't really owe us shit. And it seems camp has been taken advantage of him for a while now, if the bitterness in his words is any indication. Still scowling, I look back at him and feel the irritation that he's caused me flare once more. If I were most people, I would just walk away. The problem with most people is…they have no morals and I seem to have a surplus. Crap. Shaking my head, I open my mouth to say something, but I draw up short again as an idea occurs to me.
I've already tried this once. Did I forget what happened last time? I'm just wasting my breath. "Just walk away Audrey. Just freaking walk away." And I try. I actually swing my legs over the boulder and make to jump to the ground. But right before I do, I glance back over my shoulder. Daryl is still standing there, in the middle of the water, waist deep, just staring into the distance. He isn't looking at me but I find myself looking at him. I take in the set of his jaw and set of his shoulders. I look at the hunch of his back, the way he's kind of folded in on himself. I tilt my head at his posture. Why…why does he suddenly, somehow remind me of…Sophia, of all freaking people?
Oh great. Now I can't be pissed at him; he reminds me of an abused little girl. Son of a bitch. How does this asshole do that? Make me hate him one minute and then make me want to help another? Not fucking fair I tell you.
Sighing, I drop my head in defeat and swing back around. Daryl still isn't looking at me so I guess I'll have to grab his attention. "Hey Dix…Daryl," I call out and he lifts his head up, biting his nails, expression guarded and almost…embarrassed. Maybe even…remorseful? Fuck. And there went any reluctance on my part. The universe really is a bitch.
"Look," I start off, turning to face him completely, folding my legs underneath me. A part of me didn't want to do this, the fucking asshole spat in my face last time. Metaphorically at least. But I had to be the bigger person so to speak. Take the high road. My mom always said I was good at that. "I know we've both said some shit, hateful, stupid, shit but…I'm willing to put it behind us. Water under the bridge. Forgotten."
Taking a deep breath, I throw the ball in his court. "That is…if…if you are."
Daryl tears a piece of skin off one of his fingers and spits it into the water. It's absolutely silent for a breathless moment. His eyes are narrowed at me. "Why?"
"Why?" Really? He's this fucking stubborn!
"Yeah. Why? Why ya doin this again? Why keep trying?"
Dear Lord. He really is this fucking stubborn. Like a dog with a bone. "Cuz I think it's pointless to keep this shit up you know?" I tell him truthfully. Daryl doesn't say anything, just keeps regarding me all silent like and I see I'm going to have to spell this out for him. Huffing, I slide over to the side of the boulder closet to him and dangle my feet over the edge, swinging my legs back and forth. I lift an arm and gesture all around me.
"Take a look around Daryl. The world's fuckin ended. I…I walked all the way from Dalton, for a month, and in that time, I didn't meet one single person until I ran into you." I tuck a strand behind my ear and look back up the hill, towards the camp. "We, you, me, Merle, those "assholes" back at camp…we might be the only living, breathing people left in this godforsaken world." I turn back to him and cast him a weak smile, swallowing my pride and all the bitter, negative, feelings I have for this man before me. "Kinda sucks doesn't it? I think it does, this whole fucking Earth sucks, but what the fuck is crying over something I can't change gonna do? Nothing, from what I've been taught. So, why make things harder on myself? This might not be ideal and I hate to break it to you but…we are all each other has."
I lift my chin and look him square in the eye, trying, once more, to portray my sincerity and praying that this time, Daryl doesn't throw it back in my face. "And I was raised better than to bite the hand that feeds me. The others might not acknowledge what you do for us but I do. And I don't think it's right to leave all this shit up to you. So I want to help. Besides, if we are all that's left…I think fighting over petty grudges and old words is pretty fucking stupid don't you? For survival's sake and all."
The cicadas answer my question, buzzing in the silence. I continue to stare at Daryl, waiting for him to say something. For a moment, the hunter just chews on the corner of his lip, standing still, an island in the middle of the blue water around him. He's thinking, I can tell. There's something roiling behind those goddamn blue eyes of his, heavy, deep. He's actually contemplating my proposal.
"Let's just hope Merle doesn't come fucking popping out of the bushes," I think dryly, remembering what happened last time.
"What are ya proposing," Daryl finally speaks up, taking a step closer to me. I feel my cheeks light up as the water ripples again.
Keeping my gaze on his face, I reply, "Nothing. Just a truce and…perhaps a chance to make a new friend?"
I couldn't help the last part. It slipped out, like fucking verbal vomit. Daryl snorts at my answer but it isn't as disdainful as before, lighter this time. "Don't think I need a friend," he counters with a smirk and I draw back, almost as if I was hit because really again?, but then I notice his smirk is nearly…playful. I furrow my brow in confusion. "But-"
"Could use a helper though. Lord fuckin knows everyone else is useless and Merle…well Merle's Merle," he continues with a shrug. I exhale in a huff and bite my own lip. All right…so it isn't a request to go skipping down yellow brick lane but…I guess it's a start. I'll take it. Rolling my eyes at his refusal to drop this sense of masculine bravado, I stick my foot in the water and kick a splash of water at him. He ducks the spare droplets of water that reach him and fixes me a glower.
I smile at him again and this time, it's a bit easier, the bitter feelings I had for him not lurking behind it anymore. "You got yourself a deal Dixon."
Shaking his head at me, he doesn't reciprocate my splash. "Yeah, whatever. How bout ya turn around now and give me a seconds fuckin peace? Or are ya still waitin for yer eyeful?" I furrow my brow at him again but then I look down and remember that he is naked not five feet in front of me.
"Oh shi-. I'm sorry," I stutter and whirl back around, skin on fire. Daryl laughs, a nasty, mocking, sound, but now I can hear something teasing beneath the surface, an undercurrent that I hadn't noticed before.
There is a fair share of assholes in this camp, Ed, Merle, even Daryl most of the time but…maybe, just maybe, this younger Dixon is somewhat, partially, just a little bit redeemable.
To be continued
Hope you enjoyed and please review!
P.S.: If you haven't read The Giver it really is a good book Just saying.
Till next time!
~Shadows