Haven »•» TWD (Rick Grimes)

Chapter 19

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"I used to be in an abusive relationship when I was around eighteen." I told Jessie, sitting down across from her on my couch.

"I'm sorry." She replied.

"It's okay. Anyway, it feels like you can't get out of it. Like you're stuck." I replied.

She nodded.

"I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need me I'm here for you. I know how you feel, and I understand it." I replied.

"Thank you so much." She replied.

I smiled.

"I know Rick likes you." She stated.

I walked into the kitchen, rolling my eyes.

If he likes me, why doesn't he just tell me?

"He's scared to tell you how he feels. He doesn't know if you're ready." She replied.

Oh.

"You like him, right?" She asked.

"Yeah. Too much for my own good." I answered.

"That settles it. I'll get him to tell you how he feels." She replied.

"But don't you like him?" I inquired.

"Nah. There's not really a spark. He's just there for me." She replied.

I nodded my head before washing the dishes.

"Well, I best be going. I gotta fix lunch for my boys," She stated, looking at her watch.

-

"Rick! What happened?" I asked, running over to him.

There were cuts on his face and arms, and his knuckles were busted open again.

"I fought Pete." He answered.

"Oh my God." I replied, pushing him down on the couch.

I ran up the stairs and got a wet wash cloth, gauze, band-aids, and antiseptic before running back downstairs.

After dressing his wounds, Carol came into the house with Judith.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked Rick, Carol walking upstairs with Judith asleep in her arms.

"I'm fine." He replied, standing up.

-

"Rick, your back." I mumbled, blood stained on the back of his shirt.

"I went through a window." He replied.

"What!" I yelled.

"I think there's some glass stuck in there." He replied.

I pulled him up to my room while I found some tweezers and alcohol.

"Take your shirt off," I ordered, spreading a towel out on my bed.

He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off before letting it fall to the floor.

He lied down on his stomach while I climbed up onto my bed and began picking glass out of his back with my tweezers.

"Stay still." I demanded.

"Your hands are cold." He replied.

"Lay on the floor, I don't want my bed wet from alcohol." I ordered, after picking all the glass out.

He groaned and rolled off of my bed and into the floor.

I got down on my knees before pouring alcohol onto his back before dabbing it with a towel.