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IF MURPHY COULDN'T SLEEP before the atrocities that had occurred the day before, she certainly couldn't now. Neither could Daryl for that matter. While they found solace in each other, they still felt so alone. Their minds were clouded with thoughts not yet said, with feelings not yet expressed. Within their hearts was emotion ready to release... unhinged. It was as if there was a dam filled to the brim— ready to burst forth. Words caught in the cracks of their broken hearts were further chipping away. Denise's death was the last straw in many ways. For Murphy, it was a decisive stop to this madness. For Daryl, it was sheer and furious anger.
Murphy spent her night in bed alone, as Daryl stayed on the porch. She wordlessly went out to join him at some point in the night. He had drunk far too much whiskey and even smoked a pack of cigarettes despite his efforts to go clean. They sat across from one another in silence. For how long, they didn't know. When the sun began to peak over the horizon, Daryl pulled out the keychain Denise had given him and suddenly stood up. Murphy watched as he left and ran a hand through her hair in frustration.
For the rest of the morning, she situated herself at Denise's grave until it was time for her shift at the infirmary. There was a bench shaded by a nearby maple tree. It was peaceful. Murphy grabbed War and Peace off of the countertop—Denise's favorite novel— and flipped to the first page. Her eyes flittered over the opening lines:
"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist— I really believe he is Antichrist— I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my 'faithful slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened you— sit down and tell me all the news."
She huffed at the first paragraph, nodding softly at the relevance those lines held to Alexandria's present war. Daryl had quickly relayed to her the important information that it was the man in the burnt forest, Dwight, who had killed Denise. He got his crossbow back from him. It terrified Murphy that the Saviors were still out there willing to kill. It was only a matter of time before they showed up at Alexandria's gates ready to do worse. Defending a home from a horde of walkers was one thing, but an army of people...
Murphy simply wondered if Alexandria would be in its present situation if they had steered clear of the satellite station. Would the Saviors have come across them anyway? Would Denise still be alive? She shook her head. She couldn't live in the past anymore. Changing it was not an option. They simply had to figure out how to play with the cards they'd been dealt.
Just as she went back to her reading, a few figures moved in the corner of her eye. Michonne approached Glenn and Maggie, who were sorting through containers of guns. She narrowed her eyes at the scene and decided to close her book— Denise's book— and set it down on the bench beside her. She pushed herself off of the seat and walked over to the trio. Michonne swung her katana over her shoulders and situated the strap as she came to a halt before the couple.
