Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 028 ] i'm not going anywhere

028: i'm not going anywhere

When Joey woke up, she immediately heard the infected clawing at the gates and groaning loudly. Joey sat up, and saw that Bill had already left. She had gotten a total of two hours of sleep that night—every time she closed her eyes, she saw Finn as a rotter, sneaking into the house and killing her in her sleep. She would dream of Bill dying, his head smashed in. Joey couldn't live with herself knowing Finn might be out there—but Bill was right. Him leaving was a death sentence—if Bill died, Joey knew she couldn't live at all. It was like he was a lifeline of hers.

When she made her way downstairs, she felt cold, realizing she just had one of Finn's shirts on. There was a draft going through the house and she wasn't sure if she was the only one who noticed. Carl sat at the kitchen counter, eating almonds. Joey wondered if that was all they had to eat anymore since the rations were getting slimmer and slimmer.

"Good morning." she greeted, still half asleep. He looked her up and down and stopped picking at the skinless almond he was trying to make a meal. "Morning." Joey walked to the fridge and looked at the nearly empty shelves. "There's not much to eat." he spoke obviously, and Joey closed the fridge with haste. Carl stared at the almonds in front of him and tried not to look at her legs.

"I'm not really hungry anyways." she whispered, walking the far way around the counter to get near him—she almost didn't want to go by him. "Where is Bill?" she asked, slightly getting closer to him, and he stiffened up when he noticed. "He uh—he's on guard right now. I think he still has hope Finn and Glenn are out there. Maybe Enid, too."

Joey smiled, so little it almost wasn't noticeable. "Do you think they're still out there?" her arm leaned against the counter, and Carl stared at her, watching as her hair was laid against her shoulder, how she looked so pretty without trying. "I think so. They're strong—and they can take care of themselves. I know it." he reached for her other hand, which was hanging by her side. Joey had the urge to kiss him. He was right there, available to her. She felt the urge to be available to him at all times—like he made her of clay. But the little voice in the back of her head made her think he was going to hurt her like everyone else. "I can't lose you." Carl muttered, his hand moving to her wrist, pulling her closer to him. Joey felt her body growing warm like she was a forest and he was a match.

Rick walked in suddenly, sweat beading on his forehead and a hand on his holster. Joey stepped quickly away from Carl, both of them clearing their throats like it was routine. Rick stared at the pair of them with scrutinizing eyes before clapping a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Ron asked me to teach him how to shoot yesterday." Both of them looked at Rick like he was crazy—mainly Carl, who still had a cut on his lip. Joey assumed he did not tell Rick about the fight.

Rick stopped in his steps, and it almost looked as though he was smiling. Joey felt her head growing heavy and she backed away from Carl even more. "You two should get changed. I'm teaching Ron how to shoot—want you two to be there." Joey and Carl looked at each other in shock. "We're letting him hold a gun?" Joey jokes, but she wasn't really kidding at all. Both her and Carl had genuine concern on their faces.

"These people don't have any clue what is out there. He asked me to teach him how to shoot. So I agreed." Rick looked at her with a stern expression, and Joey shook her head. "Surprising he wants to learn how to shoot after him and Carl—"

Carl pushed her arm aggressively and Joey bit her tongue, looking at him like he was crazy, him doing the same. "After him and Carl what?" Rick asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. He looked between the two of them, and both of them just kept their gaze on the ground. "I think Joey should get changed." Carl cleared his throat, and Joey glared up at him, poking her cheek with her tongue, before scoffing and making her way to the stairs. In normal circumstances, Joey would rather die than have him speak for her, or tell her what to do. But she didn't have the energy to argue and Rick was staring daggers into her back.