like real people do | c.g [#wattys2019]

F E E L I N G

"OPEN THE DOOR! IT'S HERSHEL! CASEY, HURRY! GET HIM THROUGH!" Rick yells, as they come back through the tunnels, and I rush forward opening the door, nearly vomiting at the sight that awaits me.

Hershel on a table, his face white, looking like he's in pain. And, he probably is, considering that half his leg is gone. Chopped off. They rush him to one of the cells, Lori and Carol's, laying him down on the bed. "He got bit." Rick explains.

"Maybe you got it in time." Lori says.

Carol checks out the wound, needing bandages. "We used everything we had!" Glenn tells her.

"Well, get me more, anything!" She says. Lori sends Carl back to get some towels from under her bag, and he runs out.

"You think you can stabilize him?" Rick asks Carol.

"I need to keep his leg elevated. Get some pillows!" She orders. Maggie warns that he's already bled through the sheets and Glenn suggests cauterizing the wound. "The shock could kill him. It's not gonna stop the arteries from bleeding. We need to keep it dressed and let it heal on it's own." She starts checking for pulse and I'm out.

I could never take this, the panic, the not knowing. I've always hated hospitals, and I know people always say that but they say that because, eventually, they can't take the physical environment. The smell sickens them, the bland walls piss them off... Or maybe it's the memories.

But, for me it's feeling. The panic, the way the air seems to thicken so it's harder to breathe, the worried faces, rushing bodies. I hate it all. And, even though this isn't an hospital, it's completely the same. People are rushing in and out of the cell with worried expressions, people are crying, and death is around us once again. I shake the thought out.

Hershel isn't dead, Carol is gonna save him. He won't die.

The only person outside is Daryl, but he's outside the door. I think about going over and asking what he's doing with his crossbow raised, when unfamiliar people walk in. Prisoners, probably.

I move to get closer, but I don't wanna let them know I'm here, not the prisoners... And not Daryl, either. So I press myself up against a wall, not being able to see them, but fully able to hear them without being spotted. "That's far enough." I hear Daryl say.

"Cellblock C. Cell four, that's mine, Gringo. Let me in." Says a voice I don't recognize.

"Today's your lucky day fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia, you're free to go." Daryl tells them.

"What've you got going on in there?" Another voice asks. I move silently as I hear T-Dog enter the room, getting to the cell as one of the men yells.

"Rick, there are people here." I tell him quietly, as I enter the cell. "Prisoners, I think. They're talking to Daryl, I think T-Dog's there-" He cuts me off.