𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ²

zeventien.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
     they won't see you

⠀Some nights I would find myself not finding anything in what I was looking at. The flat surface of the prison tarmac, my lance propped up against the edge of my bed, the frayed corners of my short supply of clothes... blood. Under the moonlight it glistened with an empty blackness, and only then did I realise I had been wearing a white shirt. As calm as bone, stained and speckled with black. It was lathering up against my skin like a wet towel.

I opened up my palm and pressed it firmly against what redness had marked me, leaving a handprint in its place.

There wasn't anything in my head that was screaming at me to turn back and save the people around me from bearing witness to what I had already done. What was done happened. I could still see his body strewn on the ground, essence wavering and streaming from his chest. It was fresh in my brain, and yet as we had trekked further into the unknowing, nothing could shake it.

Still there like a picture and I didn't feel bad. No regret. No guilt.

It just happened.

I feared I was becoming something... conjuring this cloud-like atmosphere around everything I was where the people I cared for did not belong — a frame of wrong-doings capturing my eyes, and leading me onto something I did not recognise.

This was me now, and this was me a long time ago. The woman who did these things was slowly becoming less of a stranger to me.

We eventually managed to lure the walkers to a different path so we could continue on the one to our friends. Making our way to Woodbury, we came upon tall iron walls, lit under the moonlight. The faraway figures of various 'soldiers' looming after our every move forced us to take refuge behind some abandoned cars. Lowered bodies, and hushed breaths, I was left to look at the knife still in my hand as we waited for the right opportunity.

With my back against the cold metal of the vehicle, the weapon's slickness slid through my fingers, and it dripped slowly.

Movement sounded on my right, and I looked up to see the woman slowly descending from our company. My legs moved to go after her, but before long, she was in the shadows.

"Hey!" I heard Rick call out, but to no avail, as she became invisible to us, passing through the ruins and severely burning what little trust we had for her. It almost seemed as if she didn't even care about how much she needed us to like her. As our leader struggled with the need to follow after her, we gathered closer to listen carefully to what he had planned for this formidable night.

"All right," Rick whispered. "We need to downsize."

I observed at what precisely the men beside me were putting into the duffle bag that we had lugged around with us. They were useful things we could need if not for the little amount of us on this mission.

I had been holding Daryl's knife so tightly this past hour that it felt like an extended limb, and the gun hung around my shoulders no longer weighed me down. Everything had was nothing without violence.

Violence, in itself, was a weapon. Even if you're trained to fight, without violence, you'll never go far enough to win. I had a sense that bloodshed may become our only answer this long night, and letting go of Daryl's knife would not be an excellent way to go... yet, I went to toss the thing into the open duffel bag carelessly.

She was coming back. That other-self. And I was worried about how easily I was taking it.

An arm extended out towards me, and I halted my actions as Daryl himself took the knife from me, running his ever-present handkerchief down the sharp edge, then handing it back to me. Leaving me no explanation until he whispered, "You'll need it."

Because violence was a weapon in itself, and the previous action I had taken hadn't ensued dread to fill my bones... instead... zeal.

The man's action made me realise... this isn't about dark thoughts, or emotions. I may not have been asked to come because of my use of malice... I was asked to go because merely it was Glenn and Maggie, and Rick needed all the best help he could get.

Suddenly feeling the gravity pushing me to the ground, the mere fact of the couple's importance to me reminded my mind that those violent actions I was more likely to make than any other didn't... entirely matter because Daryl had promised me that some things might need to happen.

I tucked the bowie knife back into its place.

And as he went to put one of the last flashbang grenades into the bag, I did as he did, and reached over to stop him. Repeating his words, but failing at delivering the reassuring tone. "You might need it." Taking it from his hand and directing him to put it in the small, cross-bag over his body. He did as I asked, and with that, I felt one bit surer... this may turn out the way we want to. And if the short seconds of looking through the disorganised duffle bag meant life or death, I want some assurance that he had it on hand.

He nodded in thanks.

Because I had realised while looking at the blood that... this mission wasn't about me. I was brought here to do a task, and as Daryl had said, there wasn't anything that was going to happen that didn't need to happen.

His words were pacing themselves back and forth in my brain like a small demon doing laps in my skull.

I may be reeling from the slow, tidal thoughts of this alter of mine, but we were here to save Glenn and Maggie. Not me.

"Ain't no way we're gonna check in all them buildings," Daryl started, just as he finished pushing one of the guns he had into the duffel. Squeezing it tightly past the zipper, I reached over and pulled at it, closing the bag bursting with our armoury. "Not with all them guards there."

I shook my head slowly. "How many did she say there were?" I asked anyone, looking over to Daryl, having to squint through the darkness to make out his familiar features.

"Seventy-five."

Just then, as we were speaking about her, a rustle came from the space behind us all, and we all turned, weapons aimed to shoot at whatever was ascending into our view. But it was just her, and as she mouthed for us to follow her, it took Daryl's ushering eyes to get me to follow her.


























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The building she had led us to held no hope for finding Maggie and Glenn, as we all pushed through the back door, ducking under a pane of wooden slats. One at a time, we entered the quiet darkness of what seemed to be a house specifically for supplies and storage. Curtains closed on every window, and shelves stacked high with various food things.

As I looked behind me to make sure Oscar and his great height got under the slats okay, I stopped my steadfast pace as a particular collection of items caught my eye.

There, on the bottom shelf, three tubs of baby formula. Next to it, jars of baby food. A real gift in this wave of uncertainty. I wondered there for a moment, letting Oscar pass me and the other's start a discussion. As I glanced over to them, I saw Daryl peering past a thin sheet to peer outside.

But I couldn't bring myself to lean down and pick them up. For some reason, I had made myself forget there was a hungry baby back at the prison... maybe because I didn't need it on my mind at these times. I didn't need to think about that baby without a mother to name her.

I blinked hard for a moment, trying to assemble my priorities and focusing on the moonlight. The spotlight orbiting us was a cold eye, shining disappointment on what we had done and were about to do.

Moving further into the building to join the others, I caught myself in the middle of a small argument.

"They could be in his apartment," the woman suggested, looking over everyone's head. As I followed her eye line, Daryl dropped the curtain from his fingertip, cutting off his lingering, bitter stare of whatever was outside.

"Yea, what if they ain't?" Daryl demanded, moving closer with a confronting stance.

"Then we'll look somewhere else," she answered through gritted teeth.

Wanting her to look at me directly, I rose a hand to grip her arm tightly as I moved in closer, squeezing her soft flesh between my fingers. "You're our map in this maze," my voice wavered on the edge of bubbling anger. "You said you could help us!"

She ripped her arm from me. "I'm doing what I can."

As the other three left both of us in a huddle to talk amongst themselves. The men were probably planning on what the woman's last fate with us would entail. I guessed it meant she was on her own after we found Maggie and Glenn, but that only made me wonder more about why she was helping us in the first place.

Before the woman could fully tear herself away from my presence, I stepped in front of her retreating figure. "Why?" I whispered. "Why do you even care if we find Maggie and Glenn?"

No answer. Just that still expression on her face again. Something was telling me there was a whole avalanche behind her muteness. Some collapsing structure she held in so tightly. Her silence only diminished my care for her. But I wanted to know what this woman's deal was.

Then I realised. "You don't." My words finally made her eyes avert from the lights filtering their way across the carpeted floor, and to my own eyes. They were dark and held no shine. And as I continued, her structure felt more laid out in front of me. "You don't care if we find them... you came here for something else."

Shaking my head from side to side. My teeth clenched together, I gave her an ultimatum. "We're not doing it your way."

Just then, two solid knocks came from the door. And as the lock started to jingle, I took no time in staying where I was to follow the rest of my friends further back into the building where there was more room for us to hide. I took my position behind Daryl and Rick, with Oscar and the woman at my side. Fabrics were adorning the giant doorway between what seemed to be a communal room and a pantry. Even with the small number of our crowd, I was finding it hard to think we could move about this community without being seen.

Small noises of metal against metal followed by a cold breeze trailing its way to us, then a voice. Thankfully, it sounded as if they had closed the door behind themselves. They were locking themselves in with a bunch of rogues with at least thirty rounds to a person.

"I know you're in here," they called out, words coming closer as his footsteps echoed against our silent, small movements in the dark.

Another person in our way and I heard the hermit's cries like tidal waves. They were Flowing back and forth. Back... and forth.

"I saw you moving from outside," the person continued, and I looked over to our leader. And he seemed ready, with the help of us, to restrain this man.

"Alright now... You're not supposed to be in here." The stranger casually strolled closer to the curtain we held to our formation, and I watched his silhouette form against the fabric. And once he came close enough, the Sherriff charged forward and pinned them against the wall, holding his gun up against his terrified face.

The rest of us followed, but I wavered back, letting Daryl handle the rest of it. Getting a better look at the man, and seeing he was as unprepared as we were prepared, the ordinance of a bullet didn't make me feel like I needed to step in.

"Shut up, get on your knees," Rick ordered, throwing the man to the ground. We all stood from our hidden positions, the archer rushing quickly to throw zip ties around the stranger's trembling wrists, as per Rick's request.

As our leader's python threatened to send shockwaves across the darkened planes of this building, the man in his hands stuttered with fear, and that only made me take a position to Rick's right.

We never lowered our weapons, and Rick never stopped the threatening tone.

We interrogated him, we questioned him, but to no avail, as his wide, fearful eyes looked to both of us in a plea for mercy. And when we settled on the fact that this may be a simple civilian with no idea, we thought him useless.

Rick stuffed some loose bandages into his mouth, and Daryl swiftly knocked him out. And in our ever-quiet fashion, dragged his unconscious body to the back from where we came.

I backed away from the slumped over body. I was frustrated. The woman had no idea, and it was dark... I pushed the upper side of the bowie knife now tucked into my jeans, pressing and pushing. The heel of my palm sent it with a searing burn into my thigh with just a millimetre of pain.

All this sufferance of heading into an unknown place. The hermit. The dog. The knife. The woman... I wanted it to be easier than this. I just wanted to breathe for a moment.

Quiet.

"We gotta go."

The knife lifted.


























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A cacophony of gunshots had pulled us further, and further into the community. We were trailing after them like a call from God. Putting hope into those hollow sounds that we may find Glenn and Maggie — tiptoeing on the quieter parts of the streets.

Following directly after Rick through a flimsy, metal door, I started to imagine what we may find; two bodies, bloodied; a well-directed ambush of a thousand bullets. All I wanted was to find the two kind people in their best condition.

And so as we backed up into one of the reinforced walls, all of us breathing heavily into the slightly cooled air that had dropped in temperature to me ever since I'd used my knife that day.

We could feel, and hear the anonymous bodies manoeuvring themselves around this uncharted area. I felt the vibrations of their footfalls in the draft making its way under the metal slabs used as walls.

When Rick was happy we could move a little further, we did, which gave us a slight advantage in a small, fogged window. It was looking into the room and seemed to be where they held the couple.

Placing myself between Rick (who kneeled like a sprinter), and Daryl (who eagerly just bent his knees rather than join us on the ground) I pulled out the bowie knife and turned the safety off my gun.

Then it had become time.

"On your feet," one of them roared. "Move!" The coarse texture of their sounds made my hands clench.

It seemed Rick had a last-minute idea, as he pushed his hands harshly into the duffel bag at our feet, eventually pulling out two flashbang grenades.

I was then being pulled up by my shirt and gently shoved to my feet. My mind took a moment to catch up, but when it did, I made no mistake in following after Daryl as we made room for the grenades to do their work.

Just as I started to panic slightly, feeling my breath cut short, the noise sparked against the walls. The smoke-filled so fast it made me feel like we were in the sky. I couldn't see my hands or anyone else for that matter. And when my friends plunged into the grey, clouds of vapour, I ran straight after.

Rick and I were the ones who moved towards two figures with their heads covered, pushing past the grunts who coughed and spluttered from shock.

Desperately feeling around for either Maggie or Glenn, I was met with the former. Her face was coming into my view when I hastily pulled the pillowcase from her head, breathing a sigh of relief from my lips. Her short, brown hair being the familiar sight my mind needed this day. I wanted to pull her into my arms, but with the closing hours of the day and echoing shouts, I pushed down the instinct and pulled her with me from whence we came.

Holding for dear life onto her slick hand, I let out a small "Thank God."

More screams rang out from behind us, but I took no look there, fearing the worst and not wanting to witness it: no gunshots, no calamities, but witnesses. We had started a night of chaos and strife. It gave fuel into my desperate, tired legs.

Moving from the artificial lights of what seemed to be a chamber of torture, I furiously wiped at my eyes, adjusting to the night sky again.

Even under the darkness, it became apparent that Glenn was not okay. His painful grunts as he clambered in Rick's support made my chest hurt, and my mind burn. I let Maggie from my grasp to help him walk, looking around the roads lit by fires for some refuge.

It turned out Michonne was our best bet at that, as she swung open the door of a neat house. My previous occupation with her swaying ambitions on this night had been temporarily shifted, as the need for Glenn and Maggie's recovery from whatever had happened was our forefront goal. Almost diving into the front room, I fell to my knees when my body begged for me to slow down, suddenly realizing that, yes, we had gotten Maggie and Glenn back. But the night was far from over, and our central position in this town only made the unlit road seem longer.

"Ain't no way out back here," Daryl announced, running through to the back and coming to us just as quickly.

Before we had seen our friend's state or even imagined it, we had been doing this for Maggie and Glenn only. And when he had placed himself under the dim light, we had a full view of what types of people this place held — the kind of people who turned good people like Glenn black, blue, and bloody. Shirtless, and vulnerable, Glenn displayed that which I detested.

I shuffled over to him, solely in awe at how broken he looked. Unable to get any words out, my mind screamed at me to demand who did this to him — but just as I felt before, I was in deep water this evening, with no shore to save me.

Glenn gritted his teeth hard, the slightest movement bringing cries of pain into the air. Maggie and I desperately tried to position him in a way where he felt comfortable, but to no avail, as he helplessly continued his keening.

Maggie started to wrap her boyfriend in a green jacket she had found, just as I brought myself back to ground in finding a safe way to get this couple out of here. "How did you find us?" She looked around us all, confounded by our sudden presence in this place. "Where's that woman?"

With that question, I moved my eyes over my shoulder, counting the people in the room to realise that yes, the woman wasn't here. I rose to my feet, rushing over to the windows and peeking into the street. Hearing the muffled sounds of an oncoming storm, I shuddered at the thought of... anything.

No sign of her... she was like a ghost.

Gripping the sheets between my fingers, I hurriedly threw them against the window, hopeful that my short stare on this small world hadn't given away our position.

Turning to the group again, I looked at Rick and shook my head quickly. Confirming the disappearance of the samurai.

"Maybe she was spying?" Oscar suggested.

"No," I answered quickly. "She didn't come just to help us." Realising that the room would soon flow into a hurricane of preparations, I shifted my palms over the dips in the gun around my shoulders and quickly eyed the knife beside my belt.

Looking down to the people we just saved, a let out a long breath -- probably the first in a reasonable amount of hours. "Maggie and Glenn wasn't her only reason for getting back here."

There was an audible pause amongst us all until Rick gave the final word on the matter. "We gotta get 'em outta here. She's on her own."

I looked back to the curtain for a second, yearning for a straight answer at to why that woman did what she did. But since she had blended into the very mystery she had set to return to, I would have to settle for nothing but the cold glares she had given for answers.

"Daryl," Glenn started, just as the man named came up on my side. "This was Merle."

It seemed we had felt the same emotion, Daryl and I. Instinctively looking to each other's eyes then trading it for a disbelieving stare towards Glenn.

Shock. Repudiation. Some word for simply not trusting those words despite coming from the most trustworthy person here. We had left Merle's fate in the hands of whatever controlled our shared tribulations... Daryl's brother, who was quoted to crap out nails if you fed him a hammer, had seemingly trailed on a path that met us here.

"He was—he did this," the beaten man continued. I didn't want to believe that Daryl's only family left had fallen into this seemingly violent town and had fitted in here. I tried to smile and retell him that his brother was indeed alive and well.

I could see the trepidation about that fact, as he moved closer into our circle. I knew that if it were my brother who had done this to Glenn, I wouldn't know how to feel. If I could see Victor again, this is the last situation I would want him to be in.

The archer hadn't said a word yet, caught up in the understanding that Merle was alive when we all thought him dead.

"Did you see him?" I spoke words, shakenly, that I felt Daryl might have wanted to say. "It was actually him?"

"He threw a walker at me," Glenn answered, a bitter note ending his sentence. "He was going to execute us."

"S-so my brother's this governor?" Daryl finally asked, some trepidation in his further steps.

The way the woman had described this governor didn't make me think Merle was him. Even the title itself didn't seem his style. Merle was the type to use his name, make it known, and leave charm at the door.

"No," Maggie confirmed. "He's somebody else. Your brother is his lieutenant or something."

"Does he know I'm still with you?" The desperation in Daryl's voice simply made my heart hurt, and I wanted this to be a happy situation for him. For his brother to be alive in this world to see him. For Merle not to have done this. But it simply wasn't the truth. I felt his unease.

I knew that we wouldn't have the chance to find Merle.

If I were placed in a position where I had to abandon the thought of seeing my brother again practically, I would be handling this a lot worse than the man beside me. Being given a flicker of light, only to be told you had to put it out. I had never really left that light go, stored it somewhere in my mind next to some of the last slithers of hope I kept.

"He does now," Glenn muttered. "I'm sorry, Rick. We told him where the prison is. We couldn't hold out."

All this... trouble. My wishes and hopes were all gone. This night was now beyond these few hours and those walls. It was as if the prison walls were my ribcage, and I could feel them bending inwards. I didn't blame the couple at all, but there was no helping my apprehension at the fact that we were now eternally compromised to these people who were going to execute just two of our people.

I wanted to be the one who led us to peace, but I was quietly losing my sense of the ground beneath me. I wanted for this to be easy, but all arrows were pointing to an end where my hands became redder than they were this day. Some feeling of war in my veins wanted to explode. I had done all this before — panicked, been unable to function entirely so I could help, done bad things for the favourable ending. It led to all my cords snapping and losing my mind.

Worried and wasted of power, head vibrating from holding in tears, I hadn't listened to the further discussion. I was tired.

I was tired of resorting to my tendencies when things got too hard; unable to relearn a better path.

Nothing's going to happen that ain't supposed to happen.

"Nothing's gonna happen that ain't supposed to happen," I repeated that promise to myself. And it was like that other self had found her feet, but this time, just beside me. Something telling me that the memory of that night I helped kill someone to save another was echoing beyond just my mind. Torn by the choices my mind will make, I had to accept that might be the only path I had any opportunity to take.

Violence is a weapon.

No matter how much I wanted to be a good person or be better. There was no way I was going to escape what I was anytime soon.

"It's not my fault," words more steady, and I finally turned from the wall I hadn't realised I was facing and gathered myself.


























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Gunshots, fog, and indiscernible figures amongst the opposing forces. Our sudden adrenaline rush to escape was squashed as we became backed up into yet another doorway. And as I had been tasked to help Maggie make sure her boyfriend was able to walk the distance, I hadn't fired a single shot.

Shaking the thoughts that my bullets would have made a difference, I helped her place Glenn up against the brick wall. Letting my hands hover over his arm for a second, before turning to the others who had thankfully made it cover as well.

In the short time we were out in the open, I had tried to keep my eyes glued to all of them impossibly. I was keeping count and track. None of them hadn't hesitated to shoot anything that moved in an unfriendly manner, and the dropping shadows frighteningly made my heart sore every time.

These people were not on our side, and we were not on theirs. And so I tried to justify the collateral damage in my midst.

"How many were there?" I gasped, kneeling to the duffel bag that had been unceremoniously dropped at all our feet — reaching in, feeling around for a familiar magazine.

"I didn't see!" Oscar yelled out, trying to reach a volume that would break the sound of bullets.

"Don't matter," Daryl counteracted, out of breath. His words were calling to my attention his position on my left, as he pushed his hands beside mine. More adept at figuring out which magazines went in which gun, he urged them quickly into his pockets, before handing two over to me. "There's gonna be more of 'em. We need to move!"

I stuffed them into the back pockets of my jeans, straightening up from the ground and pushing down the urge to peek around the corner.

Even Glenn had been handed a gun. Blood dripping from his chin still, and weak arms were holding up the best he could.

Before anyone had formulated and spoken a plan, we knew we would have to make this our last break to the wall.

"You guys go ahead," Daryl announced, still rifling through the duffel. "I'm gonna lay down some cover fire."

No. Not alone.

I furrowed my brows, mouth opening to protest. "No. Not by yourself. We need to stick together."

"It's too hairy," He looked up to me, for half a second. "I'll be right behind you."

"Me too," I added without a second thought. And this time, it was more than half a second of looking at me. "Two is better than one. I have a full mag. You're not going by yourself."

"No, I'll be fine," the man answered. He shook his head slightly, mind probably running too fast for his liking at this moment.

"No? Are you serious?" My voice rose higher, panicked at the thought of Daryl getting stuck out there, unable to follow us; being killed. Without someone. Without me to cover his own back. "You're a good shot, no!"

No one else had said a word in those quick seconds.

"I'm going with you," I repeated my point. His eyes were begging for me to change my words. I wasn't thinking of what might happen out there, and I probably should have been. But I was not letting him go out there alone. I would yell, and shout, and cry for him not to be alone and I wouldn't stop.

I didn't have to do any of that, though, as Daryl gave a sharp nod my way and continued handing things out to the rest of us.

Before long, the man in my sights threw another grenade. It skidded across the tarmac, making quick snapping sounds as it rolled. Sparking, and bellowing with smoke. It was our queue to start, and we didn't miss a beat in taking further actions.

As I followed tightly after Daryl, the others took their leave at the back of us. Slowly realising what I was getting myself into, my steps tried their damned best to keep up with the taller person on my right. Pointing the nose of my gun up to anything, and everything that moved. Stumbling on the sidewalk, I did not fall.

The slight wave of wind taunted every shot I took, each spark, each noise. The yelling. The smoke. The panic. All of it joined together in one song singing chaos. Kneeling behind a rusted bench, the gun shook in my hands as my finger kept pressed on the trigger. Piercing breaks through the air. Sending envy, and unannounced fury into their territory.

The others took their chance with bullets too, sending some to the ground. But I was too distracted with what was in front of me to focus on their escape. Slowly losing all memory of what I was here for, everything and anything I had in me was trying to justify those people's injuries and deaths. Horror threading it's way through me when I was finding nothing but some sense of joy in their blood spilling out in front of me.

Something happy, when it shouldn't have been. We may be winning, and that made me happy at their expense. Life and soul were leaving their bodies because of me. I wasn't sure whether it was me who did it, but nevertheless, I kept on firing because that was what I did best. I had counted at least one that I had killed.

I was good at killing people, and it had been sinking in ever since the first.

We stayed in our chosen positions, covering for our friends.

Replacing the magazine twice in those small minutes, when I finally ran out, I had nothing else to do. Our enemies kept on firing.

"Daryl!" I yelled over the noise, ducking down best I could and bringing my knees to my chest. I looked to the walls, seeing that our friends had made their escape.

Daryl answered my call, kneeling beside me as his eyes traced over the gun in my hands. Putting the pieces together, he spoke. "I only have one left." With the sudden realisation that after all that rage, these people were closing in on us, I started to wonder whether we would follow after our people after all.

"I'll cover you!" His voice broke from all the yelling. "You have to go the way we came." He started going through his bag, hung over his shoulders, and I had no idea what he was looking for. Then finally, the grenade I had told him to hold onto was in my hands.

I started shaking my head uncontrollably. "You come with me, and we can both go!"

"No!" Placing his free hand on my shoulder, he started pulling me to my feet, yelling for me to go, and that he was right behind me. I didn't want to leave him, forcing myself to let go of his shirt I had been pulling at. Every ounce of my being was telling me not to leave, but the forceful speed of the seconds going by practically threw me away from his grip.

It all went too quickly, and I didn't get a chance even to find my mind.

Taking one last look at Daryl, I sprinted to the cover of the houses. Avoiding uneven ground and stealing glances behind me to watch him save my life again. When I had made it there, it allowed me to look back at him thoroughly, taking in the view of his slowly emptying gun. Fearing the worst, and panicking as I had never done before.

Wondering if this was going to be the night one of us died, I sent a silent 'thank you' his way.

All of a sudden, a stranger's arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me off my feet and cutting my air off intermittently. The shock of that moment paralysed my body for a second, unable to help myself and too scared of what may happen to Daryl instead of me. The person pulled me back further, forcing my hands to dig at the skin of his forearms.

Feeling that rage again, and the determination to be in control of every situation I came across, I brought my head forward, then back. Jolting quickly in his grip, the only thing I was thinking about was keeping myself alive against whoever this was.

Crying out in pain by my ear, he dropped me to the floor, for which I landed on my feet. Gripping the handle of my knife, without assessing the situation, I spun on my heel, swiping out with the small weapon.

Only when I had blinked for a few moments did I see what I had done. The simple act of sending my blade through the air had cut into the man's face. A deep gash was running itself from his ear to his eye. Spurting out blood and glistening under the moonlight

The unknown man was on his knees, hands that had been around my neck now around his own. Spluttering and gasping for some sense, he mouth spat out the blood that had fallen onto his tongue.

Before he had the chance to scream for help, I had dug my knife further inwards. Striking up, and hard into the base of his skull, feeling the echoes of his cries vibrate up my arms as I know held him in my grasp.

Letting his body drop to the grass, I was reminded for the millionth time that night that I was most likely brought along because of what I had done. Of how collateral damage was my natural environment, and how no one was safe when I didn't even know what I was.

I didn't know if I was Marley or my other-self. But as this night went on for longer, and how it had gotten more comfortable. The two people fighting for the light inside me started to merge into one.

Accepting that this day would end in some bloodshed had been done hours ago, but back then I hadn't known that cutting into a man's throat would be what was required to save our friends.

Before thinking about it further, I picked up the grenade I had dropped and scurried my way behind the houses, looking for the familiar one. Keeping my footfalls to the grass, I moved silently, and without witness through the neighbourhood.

Finally making my way there, I climbed the short stairs and practically dove into the door. It was then I took a well-needed breath, basking in the darkness behind those curtains. As if my previous rage filled up the entire room like smoke and dissipated.

But it was to be used further...

I jolt in my skin send electricity through me as the door I hadn't bothered to check swung around and hit against the wall. Turning to see who it was, I half expected it to be Daryl. But when a tall, bearded mountain of a man stood before me. Clothed clean, and fingers were curling into fists. The rage returned.

It was in these times; the world gave me no choice but to use those negative emotions so that I could live.

The door bounced back and left it to just us.

It was a slow moment as we just stared, unaware of each other's capabilities — unaware who may win. So I took the opportunity and quietly reached my hands together so I could pull the trigger on the grenade, still grasped in my right hand. I was pushing my gun to hang on my back.

And when the click sounded, we dove to each other.

It was the man who hit first, as he threw a punch into my cheekbone. Swinging right back, I ran my legs along the floor to swipe at his legs. He tripped, his body thumping to the wooden ground and grunting in pain. In those moments, I brought out my knife.

The smoke started to blur the lines between our bodies as I climbed over his body, forcibly diving my knife to his throat as he held me back. I scratched at his eyes with my free hand, as he pulled my hair and did the same.

Our Roaring and screaming could probably be heard for miles. It would mostly attract his friends, but I wouldn't go down without a fight. Not now. Not ever. This man may die, or I may get captured. All I knew was that the knife in my hand had to reach his eyes.

His fist dove into my ribs repeatedly, then my face. But my grip on his body didn't let up.

All until he lifted me, using my determined constraint to his advantage. He was bringing my body up into the air, then breaking the contact when he threw me to the wall.

My body soared in the air for half a second before colliding into the shelves. It sent myself tumbling downwards, and the previous injuries to my ribs worsened. It was only then I had wished I'd saved a single bullet. I could have hit him. I could have thrown the knife. I could not have left Daryl alone.

I felt memories of the day I died run themselves into my veins as I watched the man move slowly towards me. Casting a shadow as his towering height, the room got darker. I felt sucked into a black hole. Unable to swim out.

Then he fell. Forward, and suddenly right in front of me. I looked down to him as he lay still by my feet, blood pouring from a shattered hole in his skull.

"Je hebt geen kogels meer." You have no bullets left.

That voice. That language. So specific and so lost. It was like hearing the replay of a broken machine. Smoke and strangeness, following my every breath.

Looking upwards, my mouth fell open. After expecting anything less, and my wishes for seeing him again. There he stood, alive and... just there. I couldn't get the words out, pathetically gasping and holding my raw emotions inwards so I could let out something warmer. I finally could, as he still stood still, not saying anything more. Standing amongst the dark and cloud.

"Victor... wat de—?" My voice stopped working, and that was all I could even think of saying.

His face wasn't the same as before. It was wrecked and covered now with a thick beard. Small scars between the tufts of hair peaked out. Clothes he looked like he hadn't stepped out of, but still that inaccessible look in his eyes. Again the man who couldn't express love. My brother but exponentially different.

I wanted to cry, but he didn't say another word when he picked me up from the ground, and we stepped over the collapsed man. He had to practically guide each of my steps as I had a closer look at his face. My body not cooperating with his wants.

His eyes were tired... I had no idea how he felt about seeing me. But I was ecstatic and confused. The same feeling I had seen on Daryl's face this day... then thinking of what I would feel about seeing my brother. I had no inkling or feeling I would ever see his face again. Not in this situation. Not killing someone for me.

His words were rushed and more profound than I remembered.

"Ze hebben je vriend meegenomen. Nam hem waarschijnlijk dood." They've taken your friend. Taken him to die probably.

"Victor, wat doe jij hier? Hoe ben je hier gekomen?" Victor, what are you doing here? How did you get here?

"Er is geen tijd voor vragen ... ze zoeken jou ook." There's no time for questions... they're looking for you too.

He drove the hilt of my knife into my hand, pushing me to the back door where I had been before.

I looked over his entire self, taking in his image, wondering if he was even there. Some visage, an angel — come to save my soul from my rage. But he didn't look like one.

His chest rose and fell, and his eyes blinked. There was a large gun in his arms, similar to my own. And I had so many questions that I knew he wouldn't answer.

Would I even ever see his face again?

"Je moet gaan." You need to go.

He gestured over to the door, into the night.

Nothing. It was like there was no-one there. The only thing we shared was a language. He had always been distant, but now he seemed so far away. I couldn't even feel him.

I spoke to the man I remembered, not the one I was looking at.

"Kom met mij mee. Ga met me mee naar mijn groep." Come with me. Come with me to my group.

"Nee ... ik kan het niet." No... I can't.

Slightly taken aback, it was like my body was telling me there was no point in trying to find him. No point in digging deeper into his soul so that I wouldn't have to lose him to this world. Not even knowing where he had started in this new age made my heart hurt with guilt.

The light of hoping for him slowly flickered out of sync with my heart, then left. It wasn't a happy feeling... it was empty.

"Ze zullen je niet zien." They won't see you.

There was nothing I could try doing — my breath spluttering and begging for me to cry. My eyes wet with tears yet to fall. He gave me no choice but to walk out that door and not know if I would see Victor again.

He repeated his assurance.

"Ze zullen je niet zien.."

They won't see you.


























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note ⛈

me: *dancing* i had this planned out from the start

shoutout to the peeps who actually remember who victor is.
he is played by the lovely brian j smith aka will from sense8

i hope you enjoyed this chapter and would like to thank to many of you who supported me through these past rough times. and thank you for understand the long wait for this chapter. i hope it was worth it and don't forget to give marley some love.

Also shootout to wp for being shite at letting do things centred and uncentred.

words : 7388
2019 / 07 / 09
edited ✓

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