VIII

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viii.

bones and all
"the truth is like the waiting jaws of a beast"

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Mary Anderson is a lamb.

A helpless, pathetic, innocent lamb.

Of course I go after her.

I know she doesn't even have that legitimate of a head start and I'm almost certain she's trudging at that poignant pace of hers.

Mary Anderson couldn't harm a fly, even if she really tried. Whatever this insane idea of hers is, is not going to happen. She thinks I can't get anywhere near Negan? She can barely hold a knife without her hand shaking.

My blood runs cold and then it's boiling.

She's so fucking stupid. And I'm pretty sure I do actually hate her now. Hate her so much it makes me sick to my stomach. I feel like all my organs are compressed, my bones are too sharp, my brain is melting.

I need to find her.

No goodbye, no reason why she thought she could pull this off on her own. Just she'll kill Negan or he'll kill her like it's some sort of solution. Like it would make anything better.

This is Mary, running headfirst into something that's going to get her killed.

What the hell was she thinking?

Her tracks are fresh in the mud, barely dry, and I follow them without hesitation. Each step makes my chest tighten more, the anger bubbling up, pushing down anything else. Anything like fear. Or worry.

No. I'm not scared. I'm angry. Furious. At this stupid, reckless, infuriating girl. And I'm running.

Finally, just a fine mist begins to wet the air, I spot her. The flame of her hair against the endless backdrop of muted wasteland.

"Mary!" I scream, my voice tearing through the quiet expanse of road stretching between us. "What the fuck?!"

She stops but doesn't turn. Just stands there for a second like she's deciding if she can ignore me. And that only makes it worse. The rage rising up in me is uncontrollable now, pounding in my ears, in my veins, in my bones.

"Turn around!" I shout, storming toward her. "Turn the hell around and look at me!"

She finally does and the sight of her, standing there in the middle of the road, calm and collected while I've completely lost it. Her hair is starting to grow damp from the drizzle. She's wearing the buttonless flannel over her dark sweater, eyes dim, lips raw and cherry red.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" I close the distance between us. "You think you can just go after Negan like it's nothing? You think you're gonna do what I couldn't, huh?"

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't say anything, doesn't flinch. That calm, unreadable expression she wears like a mask—it only makes me angrier.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I spit, voice cracking with the force of it. "You were on my ass about it with your nagging, whining, bullshit only for you to go and prance off to get yourself killed? You're unbelievable."

"I'm doing this so you don't have to." She says quietly, her voice so damn even it makes me want to scream all over again.

"You'll die, Mary. You'll fucking die, and for what?"

"My family is gone. Yours is out there waiting for you. You saved my life once—well, more than once—now I'm saving yours. We'll be even and I won't be your problem. Nobody needs me, it's better this way."

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