WHEN THEY COME, glenn rhee²

T W O

CHAPTER TWO
WITH BAD GRACE

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I don't think the relationship with my brothers are anything odd until I meet other siblings.

Where Daryl and Merle and I were distant, Javi and his brother—Ramon, I've come to learn— are close. They talk to each other just because they want to, they make sure the other is safe, they take care of each other without tiptoeing around it. They are what brothers should be.

It's not only Javi and Ramon. Even in Sasha and Tyreese, the dynamics were different than what I've known my entire life. There's a sense of normalcy. They're comfortable around each other, know boundaries and exactly what to say and when to say it. Daryl and I never had that kind of relationship, and I don't think Merle would've even wanted to try. It makes me realize that other families aren't the strange ones here.

I watch as Javi offers his brother the last of his food, merely a few crackers that Ramon denies. Javi is persistent, though. I watch it like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, because to me it is. When I look at them helping one another, I see everything that my family wasn't— everything that I needed as a little girl.

I clear my throat, stopping my brain before it can get too ahead of me. "I'm going to clear the second floor. Maybe I'll find something useful."

"I can help." Ramon volunteers immediately. He's ready to help, no questions asked, yet I stop him in his tracks.

"It's fine, I've got it." I tell him, both of them, as my gaze shoots between them. "You two can take care of this floor, but I... I can go at it alone. I'll call for you if there's anything I can't handle."

Ramon opens his mouth, surely about to spew words about sticking together, but Javi puts a hand on his shoulder. He can see what I'm doing, and he doesn't want his little brother to get too close to it.

"Got it." Javi nods at me, and that's that.

I drag myself up the stairs without another glance. I bundle up that grief, the guilt that is burrowing so deeply inside, and I push it down. Down, down, down. That's the only direction I seem to be going lately.

I wander about the upstairs, knocking on doors and searching rooms. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, at first. Just bedrooms and a bathroom. Four walls and a roof.

And then I open the last door.

At the end of the hallway, I stand in the doorway as I push the door open. The smell of decay hits me before I even know it. I recoil at the horrid scent, but I push forward nonetheless. The scene laid out before me is almost enough to make me turn around.