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[ season two, episode two ]
Blood seeped between her fingers, cracking along her skin like thick, crimson vines. She pressed a hand against the gaping wound splashed along her abdomen, refraining from releasing a gasp of shuddering pain. The blanket wrapped around her shoulders did little to help. The fever had already struck. Her cheeks were pale, lips cracked, grey eyes droopy — an accurate depiction of a woman lounging across her death bed.
Monica Whitman shakily reached a hand up to her daughter's face. She pushed a lock of ash-blonde hair behind the young girl's ear.
"You have to protect her." she said, smiling softly despite the seriousness in her last, dying request.
Marley only nodded.
She knew her mother was referring to Sage, her vulnerable younger sister. Her safety was the woman's priority. When the fever ran it's course, she wouldn't be there to care for Sage like she had promised. That responsibility laid with Marley now.
"Promise me you'll protect her?" Monica pressed weakly.
Marley blinked back the tears shimmering in her eyes. In her mother's last moments, she wanted to be strong. She wanted to prove her unwavering confidence and strength, to ensure Monica would pass peacefully with the knowledge her daughters were going to be safe in the eldest's hands.
Monica almost choked on her own rasping breath as she whispered, "Keep her safe, my Marley."
Those words were doomed to forever haunt the girl with a heart of glass.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her mother's hand slid down to her collarbone, her strength ebbing away. Sage's gut-wrenching sobs grew louder from the opposing room. The lifeless body of the walker that tore a chunk from Monica's flesh was slumped against the wall, staring at nothing in particular, but punctured Marley's soul nevertheless.
"I will," Marley muttered. "Promise."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The highway was right ahead, almost entirely concealed by the evergreen trees lining the edge of the forest. The group dashed up the slope with bated breath.
