Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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Tossing and turning in bed, I gave up on the notion of sleep. Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't woken Rick up with all my moving. I've been up for hours, and sleep hasn't claimed me yet, so what's the point anymore? I sat up and rubbed my face. We attacked the compound two days ago, and I haven't been the same since. I don't know what it is, but something feels off. At first, I thought it was guilt since I killed seven people, but it was either them or me. I've never lost sleep when it was justified—hell, even when it wasn't justified, I still didn't lose much sleep.

Moving, I couldn't help but hiss in pain at the achy feeling in my abdomen. Touching my sore stomach, I lifted my shirt and frowned at the bruises that littered it. Letting the fabric fall, I rubbed my eyes and lightly groaned. I need to find something to get my mind off things for a few hours. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched, my shoulders popping.

"June?" I looked behind me and smiled as Rick called out for me, his hand searching my side of the bed. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, brushing his wavy locks back. "What's wrong?" I watched as he opened his eyes and squinted against the light.

"Nothing, mi amor," I whispered, "Just can't sleep," Rick rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes, a hum escaping him.

"What time is it?" I looked down at my watch and smiled, knowing it was too early for him.

"Seven in the morning," Rick grumbled at my answer and slung his arm across his face. "Go back to sleep." Rick groaned again and reached out for me, uncovering his face from the dark confines his arm brought him.

"I'm here to talk if you need it," He reminded me, his voice thick with sleep. I smiled and leaned over again, quickly kissing his lips before pulling away. Rick hummed again and smiled, keeping his eyes closed.

"I know," I whispered and jumped out of bed, "Don't sleep in too late," I laughed and grabbed clean clothes from the dresser beside me. I dressed and left the room, lightly descending the stairs and going to the bathroom. Once there, I turned on the light and grabbed the brush, tearing through my knots. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and looked over my face, eyeing the healing bruise surrounding my left eye. Besides being beaten on by that guy, I was relatively untouched, but he got a lot of good hits in. I touched the bruise and frowned, hating the yellow tint that started to pop up around it. There was nothing I could do about it, but I liked it better when I couldn't look at myself.

I closed the door and looked around the silent house, frowning again. Everyone sleeps soundly while I can't even find a few minutes of peace, making me envious. I wrapped my hands around my stomach and held onto myself tightly. There's nothing for me here. Walking forward, I picked up my boots from the entryway, slipped them on, and exited the house. The sun shone brightly, not giving my eyes enough time to adjust. I hissed and squinted, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the stupid flaming ball in the sky.

"Hey!" I looked forward and smiled at Daryl, "Why're you up this early?" I walked down the porch steps and approached him, my arms finding their way back across my stomach.

"Couldn't sleep," I muttered, watching as he adjusted a bolt on his bike. I still can't believe he found it! I wonder what happened to the people that robbed us, though? Are they dead? Daryl wiped his hands on a rag and looked at me, his eyes squinting against the morning sun.

"Carol told me about what happened—about how you snapped that girl's neck," Daryl muttered, his eyes glued to my face and watching my expressions. I squeezed myself tighter and kicked a rock by my feet, looking down at the pavement.

"Not the first time I've killed someone," I muttered.

"She also told me how you took out the other two," Daryl resumed, "Three people with your bare fists?" I smiled up at him and shook my head.