Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
–
Her world stopped for a bit. Only a long pause, while everything flew by her like a blurred mess of trees. Time crawled by like a broken clock, with nothing, or nobody, to accompany her. She watched through her window some days, giving a clear view of town gates and everybody that entered and left. It was more vital than she remembered. More faces, more smiles. It was obvious they were reveling in the deposition of Negan, but she wasn't bitter. She was desolate.
It got better the more time passed. Her father came across an ample supply of mattresses. Not enough for the whole town, but the children and elderly, nonetheless. Their arsenal filled soon enough, with alliances and lucky catches. They were flourishing, like a garden deprived of rain for a minute too long.
Vincent visited her bedside occasionally, as if she were a sick patient, and sat at the end reading her old magazines and comics until she'd fall asleep. He would doze off next to her, on the floor, and even woke her up more than once with his deafening snores. She loved it anyways and cherished those moments. His visits got farther and farther apart once he started spending more time with the new girl in town. Emma Louane – a short blonde with a virtuous smile and eyes that could make anybody fill with warmth. She looked so sickeningly like Beth she nearly let out a pained sound when she saw her. She had the type of innocence that was too pure to be tainted by the cruel world they lived in, and Vincent deserved her. She didn't mind his seldom visits anymore and enjoyed every second of when he would bring her up to her room and the three of them would chat for hours.
She wasn't bedridden by any means. For the first week after she received the note, she was too devastated to leave her room, but she ventured out into Alexandria soon enough. Sometimes by this small pond, lined with rocks and a barely grown tree adorning the placid area, where a park bench sat. An older couple had worked on it for the town while she was away. It wasn't the same as leaving the gates, but it seemed safer. Comforting.
Vincent brought her records, then Jesus brought her more, so she had the shrill scratching of the needle and a wide selection of tunes to keep her company. In the myriad of tattered record covers, she picked out the face of Chris Isaak and placed it on the player. She let it ring out for a few moments, counting the seconds, then re-read the note. She finished the note just as the ending of the tune played, and once she wiped the few tears from her cheeks, she sat up and shrugged on her jacket. There was no way of knowing if her way of showing misery was pathetic or just sad.
Carl sat at the dining room table, head in his hands with his fingers dancing along his cheek. He didn't look up when she came down, and she knew why. Rick never told him, but Carl was a smart kid. He put two and two together when she came back in her father's car instead of her own and 'coincidentally' lived through her angst by locking herself in her room just as he declared Negan wouldn't be taking from them anymore. He talked to her a couple times, but it was very rare.
