The wheels screeched and wavered underneath the vehicle, as their bodies swayed along with it. Her eyes: swollen, red and sore, tried their hardest to focus upon whatever lay ahead. No one talked - nothing would be heard excluding slight muffled coughs and a sniffle here and there.
She swallowed hard, trying to calm the dry sticky-ness that had scratched up her throat. Fiddling with the gun in her hands, she made up a list in her head of reasons why she should not have it: the episodes. irrationality. Her neck. Carl.
Carl was on there, not because of malice, or of distraction. But of a third thing, which she hadn't quite pinpointed yet.
"Repeat after me: My Name is Jane Peletier." Siddiq said, trying to ease her into talk. He'd fed her tea and and soup repeatedly for the last few days, and she still hadn't been able to say a word.
"M-my.." she croaked.
"That's it, take your time." he coaxed.
"My name, i-is." She swallowed, "Jane, Peletier."
It still hurt to talk, and you could definitely tell from an outsiders point-of-view, but the swelling and the redness had gone down since the day it happened. A few days ago, she was silent because she could not speak. Now, she was silent because she did not want to.
She could sit here and pretend that she never thought about him. That it wasn't what she was doing right now, in this moment and every other.
"He's exhausted, drugged out of his mind, and in pain. We don't know what caused him to act like that but we hope he'll calm down once the last of it is out of his system." Enid explained. Siddiq was training her to be a doctor.
So that's what it had turned to, once again? Another dreaded waiting game?
They'd advised her to stay away from him, and she'd been glad to have an excuse to. Months of taking how wonderful he thought she was for granted was over. Because now and only now - had he been able to see her for who she really was. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And she hated him for it.
So, she forced her way to the frontlines. Because she'd rather die than spend her life rotting away in that bedroom, stuck in an endless loop of torment, an endless cycle of grief.
What Enid had said turned out to be half true. Yes, he was drugged out of his mind, delusional - but it hadn't gone away, only lessened. And even then, not by much at all. She couldn't bear being in that trailer, with the reek of medicine following her around everywhere. The ignition of what used to be there, gone - even though he was still there, he wasn't - not really.
Oh, Carl. She thought. They really fucked us up, didn't they?
They cuffed him to the bed, after he'd attacked her. Attacked? Was that really the right word? He didn't know what he was doing. Atleast, selfishly - she hoped he didn't. She never truly knew why he loved her, and maybe hitting his head off the concrete last week and almost bleeding out had knocked some sense into him - he'd realised that she was just another mosaic of anger, grief, and dead people. Nothing to love there.
Still, if she was to die today, she'd be thinking of him, and only him. Not just the last time they spoke, but the last kiss they shared. The last night she spent sleeping next to him, the last time he had smiled at her (this particular recall caused a slight prick to her heart).
Looking around observingly, she noticed nobody was paying attention to her and so she shakily opened her breast pocket revealing a piece of paper folded into quarters. Michonne had thought it would be easier to read if it was out of the envelope - but the fact that all she had to do to see it was simply unfold it nauseated her greatly.
YOU ARE READING
"𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞„
Fanfiction"Remember the first time you kissed me? It was on the cheek, outside of Hershel's quarantine zone. I remember feeling conflicted, because, I couldn't enjoy it. You were about to step into danger, and could've died. That's the first time I felt it, a...
