i clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.
[summary inside]
twd | oc x oc
season 3 - ?
i do not own the walking dead. i only
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❚ CHAPTER ONE ❚ ◜ 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ◞
DEATH WAS ROTTEN, and with it came a catastrophic loneliness. It became the air she breathed, it became a nightmare that orchestrated itself in the back of her mind and in the back of her eyelids, like a plague spreading across ensembles. It controlled her, and she became merely a vessel of it. She ceded and it became her. But Thorne wasn't dying-not literally, at least, though she could swear she was a finger's breadth from it. She was irrational, impulsive, and foolish; she knew that. June's absence was a constant reminder of just that. Since she'd lost her, Thorne had felt dead. All of noise had since died in her ears until all she could hear was the rushing sonance of lashing wind, and what replaced her heart was an unfolding promise of finding June, of killing the women who'd taken her with her own bare hands.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Her heart constricted at every thought of June. It was a tangible pain, smothering her until she could no longer breathe. Her little sister-gone. Her anchor. All she knew. Thorne's life-all the feelings that stirred inside her, and everything instinctual about her revolved around June. There was no consolation, no amnesty that could ever make her feel whole again until she found June. All that had transpired was entirely her fault.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorne had made plentiful mistakes, and there was no atoning in the world that could ever fix any of them. She'd never felt so empty before, like the integral pieces inside her body had been raked out. She didn't know who she was, who she was supposed to be without June. Existing without June felt like learning to walk anew. She was just a hollow girl made only of limbs and forlorning.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Thinking of how scared June must've been as she was separated from the only person who'd ever protected her, who'd she really ever known-Thorne had to bite down on her tongue to keep herself from sorrowing. As much as she longed to lay herself in the middle of the road and stay there as though the world was under an obligation to come at her calling, she kept her feet moving. She wasn't going to find June by drowning in anguish that would only fuel itself with the slipping of her tears. She didn't know how she would be able to come back from that. Besides, June wasn't dead-no, she couldn't be. What would all the effort they'd put into getting Thorne to trust them matter if they'd only intended on killing June anyway? They had multiple chances to kill her, to kill both of them. And they hadn't. They'd been deliberate in their scheme: rescuing her and June, gaining Thorne's trust.
⠀⠀⠀⠀It'd been weeks since June had been taken. Because they'd left her for dead, Thorne was fervent on the mission of finding anything: food, weapons, shelter for the night. She had no weapons on her, and it left her feeling exposed, like she was nude. It was by mere luck that she was still alive, having found lonesome drugstores, department stores, and gas stations where she'd been able to find single cans of food. She hadn't had much luck with water. That'd been it. She had nothing else on her, other than a thick bough. If her tattered garments counted, then she had that too.
