WHEN THEY COME, glenn rhee²

T W E L V E

CHAPTER TWELVE
NO GOOD DEED

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"I hate this." I speak into the silence.

No one around me gives a reaction to my words. The four of us— Glenn, Carol, and Abraham— have been waiting outside this house for a while now. Rick has yet to wake up.

After the shit he pulled, he was out inside this empty house. It's unfinished, but it's supposedly where they hold people. There's no cells or any of that, but it's close enough to a jail. I would laugh at the irony of an ex-cop being in jail if the situation was different.

"I hate it," I repeat, eyes glancing between the four people with me, "He shouldn't be the one in a cell."

"He pulled a gun on people." Glenn points out.

"Pete was beating his wife and kids," I argue back and cross my arms over my chest, "And we should have had our guns anyways. It was stupid to take them away in the first place."

I almost forgot what it felt like to be this angry. I'm pissed that Pete was able to get away with abusing his family, that Deanna let that happen, and that Rick is suffering the consequences while Pete just gets a new house. It's not fair.

From inside the house, Michonne calls my name. I'm the first to walk into the room, followed by the others that were waiting, and it's just as pathetic as I remember.

The house is essentially barren, except for a room with a single light and a sleeping bag, which Rick is currently sitting on. Michonne is sitting on a chair in the corner, watching him like a hawk.

I put my bag on the ground and kneel next to Rick, the both of us uneasy with all the people watching us. I eye at butterfly stitches adorning his face.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him, settling the for the easiest question first. And the most vague one.

"Been better." He replies with a blank face. I send him a pointed glare, and he huffs, "I have a headache, I guess."

"You guess." I scoff under my breath.

I open up my bag and pull out a pen light. With Pete being on lock down, he's unable to work, and probably wouldn't want to give a check up to the man he beat up. I'm the closest thing to a doctor, besides Rosita— she's busy taking care of Tara in my absence.

I shine the light in Rick's eyes, and he doesn't seem to have a bad reaction. No matter how much I want this check up to be over, I know I should ask the needed questions anyways.