Future Ghosts • TWD

50. It Ain't Easy.

"Ro, get up. You're gonna miss breakfast," Daryl said, as he picked a stray dinosaur toy up off of the floor and tossed it onto the top bunk, the dinosaur landing on the girl's back. Rosie turned her head away and buried her face in her pillow.

"'M not hungry, 'm tired," she mumbled out, the pillow muffling her words.

"You were s'posed to be out helpin' Rick and Carl in the field an hour ago," Daryl told her, leaning his arms on the bar around the top bunk. Rosie pulled the blanket over her head, and Daryl pulled it back down. "Get up," he said again before leaving the cell.

Reluctantly, Rosie huffed and dragged herself out of bed. She took a moment to change into her favorite shirt- the crocodile one from the department store in Atlanta- and slide on her red cowboy boots. After a few months of being safe inside the prison, she stopped leaving her shoes on when going to bed. She no longer felt the need to, not seeing any reason they'd have to make a quick getaway in the middle of the night.

Once she was dressed, Rosie left her cell and made her way out of the cell block, heading to where Carol was cooking breakfast. As she walked along the pavement, a brown-haired boy that Rosie had learned was named Ian, smiled and waved at her, which he did every single time he saw her. Rosie waved back a little, but didn't smile. She barely knew the boy, she didn't get why he always wanted to talk to her.

As Rosie approached the area where everyone was gathered around eating breakfast, she heard plenty of the new-ish people letting out a chorus of "Morning, Daryl"'s, which had strangely become a common occurrence.

When Rosie got up to the counter, Patrick was behind it rather than Carol. Patrick was an older boy who Carl had become friends with. Rosie liked to build LEGOs with him, but he was kind of weird. She didn't mind, though.

"Uh, Mr. Dixon," she heard Patrick saying to Daryl. Rosie scrunched up her face and leaned against the counter, listening in. The name Mr. Dixon almost made her want to laugh. "I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir. And I'd be honored to shake your hand."

Patrick held his hand out to Daryl and Rosie looked back and forth between the two with a funny look on her face. After a moment, Daryl licked his fingers clean and shook Patrick's hand. Rosie cringed, but Patrick seemed to enjoy the handshake whether or not Daryl's spit was now on his hand.

Rosie looked at Daryl, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she tried to suppress her laughter, and Daryl just rolled his eyes at her. "I'm goin' on a run today. Listen to Rick," Daryl told her. Rosie nodded and Daryl walked off with Carol.

"Hey, Rosie," Patrick said once he turned back around, a smile on his face.

"Hi," Rosie replied, waiting for him to place food on her plate. Patrick loaded up a plate for her and smiled again as he handed it over. He had a way of going about things that bewildered Rosie. He just seemed so happy to do anything and everything. It was like every day was the best day of his life. Rosie didn't understand it, but she wished she could be like that sometimes. "Thanks," she said before walking off towards one of the tables.

Once Rosie sat down, she was immediately joined by Ian. "Hi, Rosie," the boy said, a smile on his face.

"Hi," Rosie said again. She picked up a piece of her food and dropped it into her mouth.

"I saw your chalk drawing on the wall. It's pretty good," Ian said, tapping his hands on the table.

Rosie had gotten better at drawing in her months spent at the prison. Ever since the people from Woodbury joined them, she wasn't allowed to go out on runs or to go hunting with Daryl anymore. She wasn't allowed to leave the prison and she wasn't allowed to use any guns. This frustrated her endlessly, but no one listened when she tried to argue, so she told herself to swallow it and move on. Not having much else to do, Rosie spent a lot of her time drawing, so she had improved. She wasn't exactly great at it, but her stegosauruses no longer looked like spiky dogs.