Survive ( twd carlgrimes)

chapter 113

Madison's pov.

I walk forward, infront of Reg as he tries to lead the way, inside his house. I march up his porch steps and throw a glance behind me and watch as he struggles to keep pace with me. But I wait for him at the top so he can open the door to his house. He gathers himself together with a deep breath and a hand swiping across his forehead before pushing the door open for me.

As I step into the hall I look at the mint green walls and the wooden furniture in the hallway with a massive mirror to complete the entry. I tighten my grip on my bow not from fear this time but anger. They've been living in luxury while we fought each day out there just to survive and yet, that's not their fault. So, I copy Reg in taking a deep breath to gather myself.

I hear him clear his throat to gain my attention. God! Even the sound of his presence is annoying. I really hate him and I hate that I hate him with no reason. I turn to him and raise a brow.

I watch as he takes in my expression. "Um, you can give me your bow and arrows, i'll keep good care of them."
His hands are outstretched, waiting for me but instead of handing them over I fight off the urge to laugh at him.

"No offense, but you'd have a better chance draining the river Nile with a straw before touching my bow" I tell him.
His jaw tenses and his mouth forms a tight line, giving me the reassurance that our feelings towards each other are mutual.
"Im not letting you near my wife with those weapons." He states.

I throw my hands in the air dramatically.
"Oh i'm sorry, I thought you asked me to come here. Not the other way around. You asked me here so your wife can interview me. You plotted this, not me."
"You seem like a quick thinker. Even if I have organized this, you can adapt your plans just as easily."
I sigh and concentrate on not hitting him or letting my irritation get the better or me.

"If I had adapted my plans I would've let you lead me to your house and when you turned to open the door, I would've crawled through the back window, found your wife, slit her throat and get you on the other side of the door."
He looks horrified.
I shrug. "Looks, that's just a nicer way of saying that if I wanted either of you dead, you'd be dead by now. I won't hurt either of you if you don't give me a reason to."
"That was supposed to be nicer ?"
I shrugged again in confusion. It sounded nicer to me.

"You cant blame me for judging a teenager covered in blood that comes into my house griping a bow like her life depends on it." He argues.
No, I can't.
I suspect that he believed me or maybe I creeped him out but either way he dropped the argument and shook his head. "Come with me."

He walks me past the large mirror and I take a curious glance at myself when passing but I'm stopped in my tracks. It's hard to put a name to the girl standing in the mirror. I know it's me, small parts of her even look like me but I refuse to believe it. She looks so different and it's not just because of the blood and guts covering her from head to toe, but even her face is unrecognizable.

The stranger with dark patches under her eyes are barely visable because of the layers of blood and dirt covering her body and sticking to her clothes. Her old stitches decorate her face and are yet to be taken out but the look in her eyes is what stopped me. A horrid contrast of wildness and boredom settles there. Similarly, her eyes hide secrets yet they're too open and wide, too readable. Her eyes scream that she's alive but the dark circles beneath them bellow that she's barely holding on...

When I look around the hall again Reg is nowhere to be found. I tear my gaze away from the girl in the mirror and I force my feet forward. I walk into a room with a large white bookshelf that covers the back wall. It has books, decorations and instruments on it. It's a lot to take in. I don't realise that my feet took me straight to it until I'm lifting up a photoframe with a group of smiling people.