Missing Pieces

Chapter Seven

The shower was warm, but it wasn't an uncomfortable heat. No where near the blazing sun and the humid air. It was relaxing, Rick could practically feel his muscles relaxing beneath the soft spray of the water. It was hard to believe places like this existed, places with working showers and a good food supply and electricity. People had their own little worlds, small functioning societies. And now Rick was part of one. The safety he felt in the room and the relaxation he felt in the shower was almost enough for Rick to respect Negan. He was sick and twisted but he made it work, Negan had built a home, a society where people worked during the day then slept at night. Rick could respect the brains it must have taken, then again Negan wasn't much for mind strength. He was one for fear.

Rick didn't know how long he stayed in the shower. He probably used up all the hot water the Sanctuary could create, but he deserved it. After years and years of pain and sweating and being covered in blood he fucking deserved it. He stood with his back to the water and let the small drops pound into his back like small needles. He ran his fingers through his hair and debated on searching through the bathroom for a razor to get rid of his beard. He liked the scruff, but it was getting too long and he was starting to not recognize himself. The heat in the shower was relaxing, it even made his lungs feel clean. Rick wasn't sure how long it had been, but it had been years since he felt this calm and safe.

Rick tried his best not to let his mind wonder, tried to focus on the sound of the squeaking pipes and the water thudding against the floor below him, but it continued to travel away. His brain tortured him with images. Images of his boy shot and bloody on the ground. Images of his son, crying on his knees as a man scooped out his eye ball. Images of the two people he had grown up with dead. Images of them as zombies, too. It was like memories of things Rick had never seen rushed through his mind.

Rick slammed his hands against the wall, grabbing at the knob and twisting it, the water slowly turning off. Small drops of water fell from the shower head and landed on the back of Ricks neck as he pressed his forehead to the pipes. Dinner would be there soon, he needed to dry off and be ready. He shook his head to himself and pushed off of the wall, backing up. His reflection in the puddles of water below him caught his eye. Rick was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't fresh faced and hopeful. He wasn't a good man anymore. He wasn't the cop that checked on old ladies and helped people carry stuff in. He was a killer, a manipulator.

Rick felt his stomach twist as his mind wondered towards Carl for the millionth time. Was Ricks ever a good guy if he was destined to be with his son? Was Rick always a predator? Rick leaned back against the wall and took deep breaths, clawing at the cheap plastic tile that held the shower together. Was Rick always destined to hurt his son? To be the man to raise him and the man to marry him? The idea of always being this way, of always being the man his son would be with forever made him feel dizzy and sick. Rick grabbed the shower curtain and yanked it open, the plastic loops clicking against the metal rod they were hooked around.

With shaking legs, Rick stepped out of the shower and dropped to his knees on the wooden floor. He grabbed at the lid of the toilet, opening it so fast that it bounced against the frame and fell back down. Rick pressed his elbows to the rim of the toilet and gripped the upper part of the frame, gagging into the water. His stomach had been empty for the most part, but that didn't stop Rick from choking and coughing up acid and water that suddenly made his empty stomach feel heavy. Rick swallowed only to have another ripple of gags tear through his body. Heavily, Rick fell back against his feet, tilting his head up. Breathing burned but he still managed, digging his nails against the rim of the toilet bowl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, kicking his legs out from under himself.

Rick leaned back against the door and stretched his legs out in front of him. His limp arms fell to his sides, his eyes slowly blinking open. The once dim light seemed far too bright once Rick opened his eyes again. With a deep breath and a hard shove, Rick stood up and grabbed at the counter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook the trail of spit off of it before he grabbed one of the towels. Rick tried to keep his eyes trained on the sink but he couldn't help but look up in the mirror at himself.