oh come on | twd

• Lifeline •

A shower. It had been way too long since I had last showered and I dreaded to think of what I actually looked like. I couldn't even remember when I had last looked in a mirror.

The door locked with a click as I saw the steam still present on the mirror from whoever had last been in the shower. Everyone refused to stay in a different house so there was a slight queue for the bathroom, and I had volunteered to go last. Daryl plain refused to go in for whatever reason.

I wiped the steam off the mirror with my sleeve and stared at my reflection. Dried blood clung to the strands of my dirty blonde hair as well as the dirt and mud from previous days which I hadn't been able to get out. My eyes were tired, my cheeks hollowed out with blood and bruises covering the skin of my face. Brown blood from that walker was splattered across my face, some drops smudged whilst others remained intact upon their arrival.

Was I even looking at me? I didn't recognise myself anymore. I look nothing like the small child I remember. I remember my chubby cheeks and rosy tint that kissed my nose and cheeks. Now the only rosy tint was that of the liquid that leaves both my own body and someone else's.

I broke my gaze from myself to look at a folded up towel with clothes sat on top of the toilet seat and I spotted a hairbrush next to it. Gripping it tightly in my hand I tried my best to brush through the knots and cotters of my locks. The harsh tugs burned at my scalp as I continued to drag it through and eventually I had rid it of enough knots to be able to get in the shower.

I stripped off, kicking my clothes into the corner and stepped into the shower. Fiddling with the tap, I turned it and nearly screamed from the coldness. In a quick second it was heating up and I watched as the water swirled with dark red and brown, it pooling at my feet.

The dollop of shampoo in my palm felt foreign as I lathered into my now sore scalp. The feeling was strange. It felt relaxing on my scalp but uncomfortable as my hands worked it's way through my hair.

Lather. Rinse. Lather. Rinse.

I didn't even know how many times I had cleansed my hair before I dowsed it in conditioner, making sure every section of my mid lengths and ends was fully coated in the creamy substance.

Rinse.

I watched the soap and water go down the drain and moved to my body. I used lots of soap, scrubbing at my skin hard to rid it of all the dirt, blood, grime and guts. The floor of the shower was covered in the dirty water and the swirling of it exiting the premises was almost like it was cleansing my mind as well as my body. I could feel the sting and dull throb of my gunshot wound and I couldn't resist the urge to look at it.

It was red and pink, sore and slightly swollen around the actual wound and it didn't look like it had healed much at all. Surely it should of at least scabbed slightly by now? Looking at it made me feel queasy, so instead I went back to cleansing myself of all the horrors I had been through.

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I didn't enjoy sitting wrapped in my towel anymore. I had been in here for long enough, sat on the toilet lid as the water dripped from my legs onto the floor.

"Amelia? You okay in there?" I heard Rosita's voice and I stood up, dropping my towel to the floor.

"I'm okay," I shouted back. "Won't be a minute."

I stepped into the new clothes. There were light blue jeans with a white t-shirt with socks and underwear, my belt discarded on the floor. There was also a nude bra, that I knew I couldn't clasp properly. I had no idea who's they were or who they used to belong to but they were clean. We all had new clothes and it felt weird wearing them. My jeans were too long and the shirt was baggier than I expected. I had to fasten the bra from the front and then twist it back into place which I would not admit to anyone. Such a simple task to do and yet I couldn't get myself dressed.