lovely bones , twd

crimson cardigan

18. crimson cardigan

Jude was starting to believe that everything in his life was meant to go to shit.

Or at least, everything had been going to shit the past few days and he nor his people seemed to be gifted a break. He tried his absolute best to not think about what the consequences of these days would dwell onto him and only tried to think about the after. He tried to push away the thoughts of leaving his family clinging to him like the beads of sweat soaking the back of his neck. Yet it was nearly impossible when his shirt was now too damp to ignore and thinking was all he could do.

It was somewhat ironic given he didn't seem to think about anything when he left in the first place. He just did so. He watched Rick, Sasha and his people as they slaughtered others and everything within those uninnocent eyes of his seemed to switch to nothing but betrayal. Hatred swelled his veins and he couldn't stand to even have the image of what was supposed to be his family in his head any longer. Jude wasn't new to killing and murder and sacrifice and bloodshed. He's killed before, pointed the barrel of a pistol towards a man's head and pulled the trigger without much thought into it. The loud boom and the shake of the recoil that vibrated through his hand and sent a wave of fizz up his arm was a sign of protection. He killed that man to protect his people — or atleast that's what he told himself every day since then. The truth is, although, he killed him for revenge. Revenge for what he did to Maggie and for killing his brother. Merle was a dick but he raised the youngest Dixon from scratch. So he killed the fallen Governor for revenge after taking the innocent lives of the new life Rick created and encouraged back at the Prison, their old home. Revenge for ripping apart the only piece of peace he seemed to have in the safety of his lover and his family wiping his terrors away.

Now there was no longer a single speck of peace that floated around him. Revenge tingled on the tips of his fingers and killing the Governor, a man who truly scared him more than he could ever admit and took nearly everything from him didn't do much to relieve that itch. It just made him crave more and soon it would throw him into utter destruction. The Governor took who he was at the prison. It was all gone now. Jude Dixon with the shaggy dark hair and glint in his amber eyes, a boy who took up the hobby of gardening, don't judge him, to be closer with his Beth within the walls of a place he finally felt safe. He was gone. Or on the verge of being gone forever atleast.

In the end of the world, safety was no longer a gift nor even a privilege. It simply didn't exist. He knew that, Jude wasn't naive or stupid. It was clearer than the summer skies that sent sun rays burning his cheeks and the back of his neck. He knew he was or never will be safe again. But he could atleast feel a bit of weight being lifted off his chest. He didn't have to look over his shoulder every time a bird whistled a tune or when the wind pattern shifted even the slightest. He stopped watching the tracks in the mud around the field because they didn't belong to dangers but only to people like him who only ever wanted to belong.

He focused on himself and he looked up to his brother and he secretly wished Daryl would allow him one joy ride on the Harley. He fell used to the dinner routine where Beth would save him a seat right besides her, on the edge of the table knowing he got claustrophobic if he sat between anyone. He'd always give her a little extra of his food, knowing that it was twenty times better to watch her enjoy a full stomach rather than worrying about his own — not that he even experienced hunger behind the prison gates. Or Maggie practically begging him to let her trim his hair, saying how he looked like a wet dog with his long locks. Jude was privileged at his old home. Not rich or wealthy or even getting by — just privileged of being able to have a bed he could sleep in ( not that his insomnia really allowed him to. ) But still. He missed it.