22; A WALKIN' MIRACLE (season nine, episode fourteen)
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THEN.
"Disoriented. . . I think that comes closest."
A faucet was running at full pressure, flooding the ceramic sink with arctic water. Freya Grimes stood over it, hand trembling, eyes burning into her reflection in the rippling liquid.
"You're okay, baby. It's okay."
After her first dance with the death, she was sure it would be the last. Her foot in a Walker's mouth, decayed teeth sinking into her sneaker. Oh, how scared she'd been to die.
How stupid.
"We don't have to be afraid anymore."
The C.D.C. The last slice of oblivion they'd allowed themselves to indulge in. A dream come true warped into a malignant nightmare.
"To save your life, to save Carl's - I would do anything."
The night Shane died. The farm's last stand. The first stretch of Freya's youthful skin.
"No, you take him. Go to the cars. I'm not leaving without my daughter."
Live by the sword, die by the sword or in Freya's case; lose a hand by the sword. She hadn't thought about Woodbury in a long time but tonight. . . Her mind held memories that she couldn't quite visualise, they were just taunting whispers to make carrying on without her father that much harder.
"We'll figure it out. You're gonna be fine."
Oddly enough, that was the one that did it.
The walls of Freya's narrow airway began to close in, denying fresh oxygen access. Her ribs caved in, compressing her heart, puncturing more holes in its already strainer-like surface.
She couldn't breathe, and the panic inundating through her veins only made it worse. She was going to die, and thenJudith and Brodie would have to grieve somebody else. They'd think it was her choice - leaving them - and abandonment issues would stack up one by one until they were incapable of forming bonds, at which point they'd grow old and die alone or die young because there was nobody there to save them. Just like with Carl.
They were going to die prematurely too and the Grimes legacy would be gone. Just holes in the ground, some filled and others empty.
