"What do you think?" Daryl ask me after a few silent seconds. I grip the arrow I was holding next to my bows string tighter.
"It's ricks call, isn't it?" Is all I say before looking back to see if the others have gone to their spots.
They have.
I take a seat on the ground, stretching my legs in front of my before pulling them to my chest. I don't need to look up to see Daryl was butting the skin around his nail, hesitate to sit besides me.
"Sit if ya want." I mumble, playing with the ends of my untamed hair. There was a few seconds of awkward silence before I smell him thump down besides me.
I feel his shoulder brush mine and cringe at the feel of somebody that close to me. It was weird, the baby I could put aside my habits for, but others not so much.
I feel my shoulders go to my ear before I scoot to the side not so discreetly.
"We used to share a tent, now you won't even be two feet from me." His voice comes out gruff and distant. The chuckle he lets out full of nothing yet a hint of sadness.
I open my mouth to apologies but soon close it.
The mention of sharing a tent with Daryl brought me back to the whole I had in my chest. The hole that held nothing but a toy White House with grass around it.
If you got a knife and cut a circle around my chest, then look through it, you would be able to see that hole.
On that flat field.
A speck of white and green resembling the big White House and the beautiful grass that protected it as long as it could of.
"I wish I had never left that farm." I mumble through my dry lips, real easing the arrow from my death holding grip.
"It burned down ,Lanna. Ya would've been burned alive." He says it as if the thought was so bad.
"Yeah." I wispher before shifting on my hands. Scooting just a little closer. I watch as he sets his crossbow on his lap, relaxing into the tree behind us.
It's odd, isn't it? How we always found ourselves being calmed by some form of nature.
I look down at Daryl's hand as it fiddles with the string of his cross bow, my eyes catching site of something new.
I grab his hand in a quick swish. Bringing it up to my eyes and examining the fresh, light red burn mark. It was sizzling between his thumb and second finger.
The shape of the burn was one i know too well. The end bud of a cigarette. No one could've done this too Daryl, except for Daryl.
I rub my thumb over it and feel the tears he shed as he did this to himself.
"Will you do it again? Burn yourself?" I think ask him. I'm not stupid. This is a form of self punishment , a form mama made sure I knew of.
"No." He wispheres through ragged breaths. I wait for him to push me away, smack my hands away, do anything to get me away. But he doesn't.
Instead, he lets me hold onto him. It was like he wanted- needed someone to see. Even if that someone was a child.
I'm not ashamed to be that someone. It wasn't anything new or embarrassing to me.
"Make sure to put a rag with some water on it when you get the chance." I tell him before setting the hand gently back to where it was before.
On top of his crossbow.
—
My foot taps against the barns floors in a beat only I know. My eyes staring dryly at the stakes of cam food being mounted on top of each other.
The guy was telling the truth. He was telling the truth about the cars but I can't let myself be swooped away by one truth.
"This , this is ours now." Rick talks down to the strange guy. His arms tied around the wooden pile of the barn.
"There more than enough." The guy nods as if he has a say in anything.
"It's ours wether we go to your camp or not." Rick talks back, i release a deep relieving breath. He's still being cautious, thank the universe.
"What do you mean? Why wouldn't we go?" Carl ask after setting the last of the can and standing up.
Is he really just going to trust a strange man that appeared out of the blue , immediately trying to persuade us into going with him to a unknown place?
"If he were lying or if he wanted to hurt us... but he isn't and he doesn't. We need this. So we're going, all of us.-" michonne begins to speak a speech
Why? Why do we need this?
I feel my foot tap in the same Ruth's, but faster beat. My hand slaps itself on the bracelet around my bony wrist in despair.
I don't need this. How does she know what I need when I don't know myself, yet?
"So where are we going? Where's your camp?" Rick words begin to open my ears. I blink some, then some more.
"Every time I've done this, I've been behind the wheel. Driving recruits back. I believe your good people. I've bet my life on it. I'm just not ready to bet my life on it." The words of the strange guy cause me to believe that they all agreed to go...
Maybe I could sneak away. How am I going to do that? Wait- no, I can't. But I can...
"Your not driving. If you want to get home, your going to have to tell us how." Michonne gives him a choice.
"Go north on route 16." The man says not even five seconds later. I wait for the other directions.
Route 16 already imprinted in my brain.
"And then?" Michonne urges him, he only looks up at her silently.
My foot begins to dig into the floor with each tap. My bracket scratchy the skin of my wrist.
"I'll tell you when we get there." The guy seems to think he can suggest things right know.
"We'll take 23 north. You give us directions from there." Rick then says, loooking over the lines on the map he grabbed.
23 north.
"That's- I don't know how else to say this, that's a bad idea." The guys breathing visibly picks up, " we cleared route 16. It'll be faster." He adds.
Suspicious
"We'll take 23. We'll leave at sundown." Rick pushes back.
"We're doing this at night?" Sasha regects.
Night, day, does it really fucking matter? One way or another, we are either going to be killed or have to kill.
Just because we need this?
We don't always get what we want.
YOU ARE READING
To Heal is to Feel
FanfictionLana is a young girl who doesn't see or feel the world like any other child or person at all, she has a unusual behavior that makes people think their going crazy, and she doesn't understand her true power when one night she's forced to unlock a doo...
