Just Gone

64: Sitting Ducks

Sleeping hadn't been as difficult as I'd anticipated. I woke up late in the morning, possibly the afternoon. I could tell by the way the sunlight flowed into my cell from the cell-block.

I blinked a few times, rubbing my eyes to rid them of the sleepy feeling. I was groggy and sore all over, sure that if I closed my eyes, I'd fall into oblivion once again. I almost did until my eyes got a closer look at my cell.

Why am I in here? I never sleep here.

As I began to feel more awake, my leg throbbed and reality crashed down. It wasn't that I'd forgotten about Woodbury; I'd forgotten that Daryl left. Daryl should have come back. I should have been sleeping on the mattress on the perch next to his.

He really just left?

He did. I could still see the back of his vest, the dirty wings that had been yellowing with age. Merle's arm went over his shoulders as they kept walking. Far from us. Far from whatever bullshit was going to hit us.

Lucky him.

I was stuck, like the rest of them. Though, it didn't seem as bad of a prospect as it once did. I was a bit angry with some of them. Glenn, Maggie, and Rick. I was always mad at Rick, but that felt a little more amplified. How had he just let Daryl go? Couldn't he have just let Merle come? I was confused on how I felt about Merle; after everything at Woodbury, I was conflicted as to what and who he really was. I didn't think that mattered as long as Daryl would be here.

I didn't know what happened to Maggie. She looked fine. I didn't like the way she kept snapping at Merle, if only just to piss him off. If she didn't like him, fine, what did it matter? How many of us actually like each other? Hershel used to want absolutely nothing to do with us. Now he lives with us. It seemed her arguing just made it worse, maybe even reinforced the decision for them to leave.

Glenn . . . it was hard. I could see in his face what Merle did. He was scared of him, right? Glenn was scared Merle would do it again or attack someone else. On some level, I could understand; on another level, I was angry at him for not getting over it. We needed Daryl. Couldn't we have found a way to deal with Merle in spite of what he'd done? He was constantly telling me that everything he had done was to get to Daryl, to find Daryl. He'd done that. What else did he need? If Merle was with us, he couldn't have been a threat to us, right? Everything was for Daryl, and with us, he had Daryl.

I sighed, finally forcing myself up and out of bed. It didn't matter what I thought. I was a kid, a dumb, stupid kid. My thoughts on this didn't matter.

I recalled Carl's argument about that very same subject the day before. I was starting to wonder if he was right. For the longest time, I treated my situation with the people as if it were temporary, not caring to make ties or help much. But I was always led to believe that wasn't my job; why would they want my help? What could I possibly contribute? At some point, I had accepted I was going to stay with them all; there was no other option. But after everything, it was still hard to connect and make peace with that. I always stayed in the background. I couldn't do that anymore. Hershel, Carl, T-Dog, they had all proved that to me. They could see me, and I was noticed.

I avoided all the funerals. Ignored them. Stopped talking for months. I had hidden behind my status of being a kid, but not necessarily on purpose. I didn't know what else to do.

I had a better understanding then, somewhat.

As for the whole thing with Merle and Daryl, I was a kid. I didn't matter on that front. Nothing I could say or do would change it. With the impending problem of Woodbury, I had to find a way to do more. They were expecting me to shut up again, ignore them and hide away like when Shane died. I saw the way they looked at me as if waiting for Daryl's absence would have me snap.