oh come on | twd

• Torn Cards •

Being sat opposite Ron Anderson, alone in his room wasn't what I expected my day to start like. When I'd knocked on his door and asked for some company, he was shocked to say the least. He led me to his room where I sat cross legged on his bed. My mind was on my father, on Tara and Noah. It was everywhere it shouldn't be.

Ron didn't ask me why I was here, didn't ask why I wasn't tailing Carl like usual. I liked the fact he didn't push for answers I didn't have.

"What game do you want to play?" Ron asked, as he shuffled through the deck effortlessly.

"A new one," I answered. "I'm sick of the other ones."

Part of me didn't want to play Jacks, Twos and Eights for the plain fact of I couldn't play very well, and I also didn't have Carl to help me. Whilst liking that fact, I knew I wouldn't be able to play it without my mind drifting elsewhere.

"What about Snap?" He asked as he continued to shuffle the deck, most likely just for the sake of it.

"What's that?" I asked.

He began sorting the cards into two piles. "So, you'll get a pile of cards and we each take it in turns putting one down. If we put one down the same suit or number as the other person's, you say 'snap!' and take the pile." He handed me my pile of cards. "First one to lose all their cards loses."

I nodded, and we began to play. I was a lot better at this game to the other games him and Mikey had taught me and Carl, but I also knew this wasn't as hard as the other ones. This game was purely down to reaction time and reflexes, all of which I had the upper hand in. It was a quick game, and Ron didn't seem all too bothered that he lost; shuffling the cards again and making two more piles.

"Enid's avoiding me," he said, and I had to avoid my laugh from escaping.

"So much for her talking to you then," I said. "Snap."

The door opened and I watched as Pete stuck his head through the door. His eyes scanned both of us and he seemed almost annoyed by my presence. The air grew thick and I felt the hairs on my neck stand up from his gaze.

"Oh, hello Amelia," he greeted, the annoyed expression gone in an instant. "Healing okay?"

I nodded. "It doesn't hurt anymore so," I gave my best attempt at a smile to help ease the tension but it didn't do anything.

"Good, good," he drawled, before nodding and looking at Ron. "I'll talk to you later today, son." He left, closing the door slightly but not fully.

"Amelia?" Ron said.

"Mhm," I answered, avoiding eye contact after the awkward atmosphere seemed to settle.

"What was hurting you?" He asked and I sighed, throwing my cards down and then flopping on my back on the bed.

My arms lay behind my head as a pillow and I considered my answer.

"I got shot," I replied and the silence that followed was deafening.

"Why? Where?" I lifted my shirt slightly, showing the new pink scar that adorned my abdomen.

"Was a while ago" I answered and after not hearing a reply from Ron, brought my shirt back down.

"Oh." Ron stayed quiet a moment. "Did it hurt?"

"Afterwards, but I didn't have time to think about it anyway," I felt the bed dip next to me and turned to see Ron laying down too, a distant look in his eyes.

"I wish I could just not think about things," he said quietly.

"It's different in here to out there. In here, there's nothing to do other than think about it," I tried to explain. "But out there, you can't think about it because there's stuff you need to do, more important things to think about."