Dead love in my hands (Troy Otto story/ Fear the walking dead/ ftwd)

Analgesics

I woke up to the creaking of the floor. It was made of wood and old enough to make a sound with every step. It was already getting light outside, but the light hadn't filled the room yet. Turning around on the bed, I didn't find Troy next to me, so I immediately raised myself on my elbows and peered into the darkness. After a couple of seconds, I managed to make out Otto's silhouette. He was sitting dressed on a chair and tying his shoelaces.

"Where are you going?"

He started at my voice, apparently not expecting me to wake up so early.

"Good morning, sunshine, I'm going hunting," the voice was soft and calm, as if he hadn't said anything special.

"Are you crazy?! What time is it now?!"

"Four o'clock in the morning," he shrugged, "go back to sleep."

"Troy, you can't go anywhere!"

He got up from his chair and spread his hands, wincing slightly: "I'm healthy!"

"Stop suffering nonsense!"

"Della, I'm not a little kid! I'll figure it out myself!" His voice became rougher.

"Troy, you still need peace, just yesterday I pulled a bullet out of you!"

"That's exactly what happened yesterday. And today I already feel great and in general: I want meat!" He slowly approached me and with a little effort sat down on the edge of the bed, but trying not to show that he was in pain. Only a furrowed brow and a slightly open mouth made it treacherously clear that Troy was far from recovering.

"You're not going anywhere!" I abruptly jumped out of bed and ran to the door, blocking it with myself.

"Della," he sighed wearily, "what are you going to feed Alan? And you yourself, what are you going to eat?"

"We haven't run out of supplies yet."

"And what is there? A couple of chocolates?!"

"In fact, there is porridge, nuts, dried fruits and so on....."

"And all this is not meat!" He raised his voice: "Since we have such an opportunity, we need to try to find a normal meal. Tell me, when did you eat anything after El Bazaar? Just don't think about cookies and chocolates!"

"Troy, you're right, but you can't leave, you're still here..."

"And who will go? Maybe you? And what can you find?! Not a damn thing! Because it's not your job! You're a woman! It's not you who should be thinking about how we survive!" He grabbed his side with his right hand and made a sound like a groan. I ran up to him and was about to take off my shirt to look at the wound, but he pushed my hands away and, turning to a whisper, continued: 

"You've already done too much for yesterday! I'm ashamed that it wasn't me who found the house we're in right now! I didn't go for supplies yesterday! It's not enough that you and I are wandering because of me, so now I'm not capable of anything!" 

He tried to get up, but the pain completely shackled him, again there was a painful moan, which he tried to suppress. Gathering his last strength, he began to raise his voice, as if he wanted to finish as soon as possible:

 "When we left the ranch, I swore to myself that you would be protected. I promised myself that I would do everything to make you feel good, since you sacrificed affordable comfort for me! And now what?! I'm not doing anything... " He couldn't keep talking. It became too painful. I, holding him by the shoulders, lowered him onto the bed. He was wincing. 

Carefully, I began to take off his shoes first, then his clothes, accompanying this process with the words:

"Is that all? Are you done? Now listen to me: you're not going anywhere, okay? Not because I want to do everything myself. I don't want to do anything myself at all. You did everything for me two days ago. And as soon as you come to your senses, I will rely on you in everything, as it was before. Do not hesitate, if you stay in bed for a couple of days, it does not mean that I will let you do nothing longer than you should! And don't think that if you get sick, you won't be needed. I really need you. But alive and well."