❝ 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 '𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 ❞
frannie is willing to do anything to get back to her family, but can she put her trust in strangers to do it?
[slow updates]
[book 2/4]
[glenn rhee x fem!oc]
[through...
CHAPTER THIRTEEN VIOLENT DELIGHTS AND VIOLENT ENDS
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Will Dixon never did much of anything. At the very least, he never did anything that mattered. All my memories of my father were of him sitting on that old recliner with a smoke in hand, a beer in the other, and the blue glow of the television.
I'm glad I never met him when he was up and about. Daryl told me the stories. Will Dixon had an iron fist and a forrest fire of a heart. But some quiet part of me wishes I could've seen my dad do something. Even if he treated me as poorly as he did my brothers, at least I would've had a father that acknowledged my existence. Will Dixon didn't even care enough to hate me.
There were rare nights that he'd get up from that recliner. Will would make himself a pot of coffee and pour himself a mug, straight black, and he'd sit out on the porch at night. When I grew up and started drinking coffee at night, I never realized that I was copying him.
And here I am doing it again. A cup of coffee and a porch, sitting in silence while I look out to the streets as the sun starts to set. The sky is purple, close to turning pitch black. When it gets dark, that's when the meeting will begin. I'm dreading it.
The door suddenly opens, and out comes Carl. I smile softly as I take notice of Judith sitting comfortably in his arms.
"Hey, cowboy," I greet the kid, watching as he moves to sit down on the chair beside me, "How's life in Alexandria been treating you so far?"
"Pretty good, actually," Carl nods, rubbing gently circles onto his baby sisters back, "Well, it's been less good recently. You know, considering."
"Things have been a little tense lately, but it'll work itself out soon." I assure him, although I hold back on saying the negatives. Sure, it will work out, but it might not be a happy ending.
"Are you going to the meeting?"
"I am," I answer, "I might give a speech or whatever, but I'm not sure. I've never been very good at public speaking."
"I think you should. Your opinion would go along way with them. The people here, they seem to trust you."
"They hardly know me."
"They see that you're trying. All of us see it," Carl tells me, "Maybe that will be enough."
"Yeah, maybe." I say, eyes casting down to the wooden planks of the porch.
