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[ season three, episode one ]
When the next morning rolled around, the group had successfully infiltrated the prison.
Marley stepped into the main cell block cautiously, her gaze scrutinising every inch of the abandoned criminal residence. Streaks of blood were smeared across the eroded cobblestone walls, iron bars that had once kept the prisoners hostage strewn along the floor, meaningless. The stench of rotten bodies and mildew clung to the thick molecules of dust pouring down from the ceiling. It was a nauseating sight for some, but to the aching survivors, it had the potential to be a new safe house. A new home.
Maggie rubbed Marley's shoulder tenderly as she passed. Over the course of eight months, they had grown inseparable. Blame Marley's sister-like bond with Beth; those girls were never apart. Maggie ultimately decided to label Marley a sister, too. And Sage. Although, Maggie's protectiveness over Sage could be deciphered as a little more motherly than sisterly — the difference in age a key attribute to that.
"We'll be okay." Maggie assured in that southern accent of hers, the ghost of a smile inching over her lips. "Try and get some rest."
Rest.
That singular word was an amalgamation of every impossibility the tight knit group stumbled upon. Rest. Sleep. Closing your eyes without the fear of a walker looming over you when you awoke, teeth poised to tear out your throat.
Marley almost laughed aloud, disbelief rushing through her system. Sure, the prison was manned by fortress-like walls and a chainlink fence to keep the hobbling walkers out, but that didn't take away from the nightmares and the inconsolable fear of actually going to sleep, worrying she would never wake again, plaguing her mind. That if she did eventually stir from the slumber, her eyes would be milky white and her skin vapid — Sage her first victim. Nothing could resolve that. The trepidation would always linger.
Still, Marley managed a smile in return, watching Maggie meander to the other side of the cell block, joining her father on the cobblestone steps leading up to the second floor of jail cells.
Their relationship was a warming sight to see. Hershel coiled an arm around Maggie's shoulders and tugged her into his side. They both looked utterly exhausted. Perhaps Maggie could take her own advice; she should sleep. Rest. That same disbelieving sensation tingled in the very centre of Marley's chest again at the mere prospect, though it didn't hinder her from stepping into an abandoned cell to her left, reinvented for everyday use and survival purposes.
