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⠀I remember when I first met Rick Grimes, the night we sat beside the fire and learnt of his coma. The words he used; disorientation. I couldn't find better ones for seeing the blood seeping out of Hershel's leg. The sheer amount seemed impossibly drastic, yet there it was, staining our digits.
⠀I tremmored lightly.
⠀"Come on we gotta go!" Rick's voice embossed above the fog, and my neck made a small noise as I craned away from the ground.
⠀Glenn had already wheeled a large metal table into the area, and they were now desperately lifting the man atop it. They were skittish, and perilous by their actions. Yet they were doing something, even if Maggie was breathing in uneven rhythms, and Glenn was carelessly maneuvering the unknown territory.
⠀I bit down on my lip furiously, unable to focus on one thing at any given time. I tasted blood, letting go ― now constricting my palms to one another. Yet even with my still, slightly quaking shoulders, Rick ducked down and grabbed me firmly. He planted his fingers upon my shoulders, and squeezed lightly with scarce concentration.
⠀"I need you right now," he all but whispered, looking forth and from me - stuck between the red and me - Rick shook me gently. "Don't do this, I need you!"
⠀With those words, lines sharpened and eyes liberated themselves. And with a sharp, inflamed swallow I furrowed my brows and got up on my quivering knees.
⠀"Come on!" He all but shrilled, it echoing off the walls just as well the squeaking wheels hurtling upon the concrete floor. My ears tuned in, and I followed aimlessly along the scuffed path it led till I came to the double doors perilously guarded by Daryl Dixon.
⠀He didn't seem to move, his eyes still trained on the new strangers we had accompanied ourselves with. Glancing over my shoulder at them, I counted five pairs of eyes perusing our stances. It made me coil inwards. I wrapped my bare arms around myself, digging my hands into the fabric I found housing my ribs.
⠀Rick, Maggie, Glenn, and T-dog had trailed themselves back into the tombs ― Our leader shouted our names, but Daryl was too cemented and I was too stranded.
⠀I reached towards his arm, both hands wrapping around his bicep. I clenched it frivolously, and pulled. "Daryl," I whispered, yet he ignored. "Daryl," I repeated. "Come on, please." I rendered his hand free, wrapping my own around it ― this time, tightly. "Please." Placing both my hands around his one, the warmth there grounded my foggy brain.
