CHAPTER EIGHT ,
ignorance / bliss

⠀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.

⠀Only then, at the scorching contact, did he slowly let his eyes flicker abroad the interlopers. And when we heard Rick call his name one more time, our legs simultaneously scurried into the calignosity ― still with both my hands shrouded over his, not unrequited.

⠀We kept our glances, and we kept our pace along the tombs. It seemed neverending, but when I repeated the urgency our legs evoked that feeling. The spiraling terror of the colours on my hands were reminders enough.

⠀Blinking into the light, we came back to the canteen area, and I felt a hand come to my back and pushing lightly. Turning to Daryl, he was already lifting his crossbow.

⠀"Go," he gave me one word in a harsh whisper, throwing a hand into the air ― and I nodded heartily, taking no time to find balance but getting there anyway. Stumbling on my own two feet, almost wishing myself timber.

⠀A once pure silence in the cell block was transformed with dirty screams and hollar of desperation. I painted it with my own shaky breaths, taking slow and steady steps towards the gate ― only faltering and not even making it halfway. Curiosity and dread swirled in my stomach, picturing the severed limb of the prone Hershel was a sickening sight I wasn't looking forward to witnessing again. Yet as my legs urged me on, I let them do so. They carried me over the tainted lip of the gateway, and towards the chaotic gathering around a nearby cell.

⠀I could smell it from there - the metallic blood. But after feeling the steady drip covering the tiny blonde hairs on my arms, I only then realised how much they quivered.

⠀I strode myself towards the conversation, finally listening in with a chancy apperception. The first person I caught sight of was Harvey.

⠀He firmly gripped the doorway as he watched Hershel was carefully maneuvered to the bed, aghast company among us. But both our expressions seem to mimic awe, amongst other things. Our cruel and ridiculed upbringings sometimes brought out our slim handful of similarities.

⠀I took my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling a low churning in my stomach as I stepped forward more to gaze at Hershel's vacant and clammy face. All attention on his appendage was to the back of my mind, forcing it there as I took in the serene and placid expression. It only churned my stomach more.

⠀I only just tuned into what words were being said.

⠀"Oh-God!" Someone uttered with a small whisper. "W―What do we do?"

⠀T-dog brushed my shoulder as he pushed past my body. He half-entered the cell, taking Harvey's wrist within his grip. "Harvey can help, like I said!"

⠀Rick turned with confused eyes. "Get in! Get in!" His words were rushed, and full of needy tempo as he ushered the shorter man into the space. "Please, do anything you can."

⠀Harvey was a quiet person, whichever situation you put him in. He was slight, and shy. Even from high school, I don't think he had said more than one hundred words to me. Yet, in this moment, he seemed to try harder. "Um... yeah I―" He was pulled into the space by Lori, and her gentle hands. She guided him towards the wound, carefully looking into his eyes and urging him on.

⠀"I..." Words fell thin, instead he caught himself in action as he speechlessly unwrapped the cloths from the leg. "More blankets, we need more blankets― towels, gauze, something. Something." He rambled on quietly, squeezing his eyes tightly in concentration and remembrance. Lori nodded confidently, trusting what he said even though his voice was tight, and childlike.

⠀There was too much chaotic movement for such a small space, that instinctively, my eyes were drawn to the unmoving Hershel.

⠀"Harvey?" Glenn urged him on, desperately looking between his girlfriend and practical father in law.

⠀The man in question glanced over his shoulder with a nervous vexation, shuddering under the eyes. He was filled to the brim with anxiety and all I did was watch. "We ca-can't cauterize it... we just have to let it heal on it's own."

⠀"Let him bleed out?"

⠀"No," Harvey's voice was the loudest I had ever heard in that moment. "Dress it, we can save him."

⠀Once that was stated, my feet carried me backwards into T-dog, who looked proudly yet nervously at Harvey. I turned to look at him as my shoulder brushed his, and he eyed me carefully. A question rose in his throat, yet he didn't ask as his gaze followed me when I made to my own cell ― the farthest one down.

⠀It seemed I was choking on air, as my lungs contracted at an unnatural pace. Hands itching at my sides, they gripped the sheets of the bed― ripping, tearing blindly. I used my short nails to rent it from my own mattress. My own mattress. I was giving something up and using lacerated movements to do so, helping any way I could.

⠀Once they were piled onto the ground beside my shoes, I stared intently at the cloth still attached. When reaching for my lance, fingers wandering aimlessly I had realised it wasn't there ― and I had no idea where it was.

⠀Quietly, but fleetly, I picked the sheets up from the floor and power-walked towards the cell where everyone was gathered.

⠀It was more hushed, yet still panicked. And me entering with a nervous grin, and sheets folded in my arms was an unwelcome sight as few stared at me with wide-eyes. My own glinted with hysteria, and my words came out between breathy laughs. "Use these, I'll get more. I just gotta get my lance― I... I dropped it."

⠀Before someone could reply, or even stop me, I commenced my stride back towards the rusted gate between us and the cafeteria. The only voice I heard was of Rick, who yelled gravely after my footsteps.

⠀My shoulders bounced as I briskly made it across the lip once more, but my smile dropped like rain as many faces came in my view.

⠀The five strangers I had once seen before, in different shades and heights, all staring intently at my entrance. They stood perilously at the welcome to our home, and my mind filled with dark, and alarming protectiveness as I unconsciously counted the steps between me and them. Looking to the floor, trailing my analysis towards their body.

⠀Then it flickered towards Daryl and his unmoving stance, fluttering his grip over the trigger of his crossbow. But I could tell I had caught the corner of his eye.

⠀The taller one of the group took to me carefully, almost in recognition ― not in myself but the way I looked. Some sort of trigger in his head for the next words. "I gotta check on my old lady." He shook his head, furrowing his brows. "And my kids; my family."

⠀I couldn't help whispering back, a steady expression. "Why did you follow us?"

⠀The one standing in front, with a pointed expression, waved the black weapon between his hands. His irises were dark and recognisable from a distance...

⠀"A group of civilians breaking into a prison you got no business being in," His expression never changed. "Got me thinking there ain't no place for us to go."

⠀"Why don't you find out?" I lent forward, quirking my eyebrows upwards with an intense condescending tone. And with that, those dark irises grew in anger.

⠀"Lady, don't be telling me what is and what isn't around here," he scuttled forward, before being stopped by the acute aim of Daryl's crossbow. The welding man had words of his own for me; "Marley, don't!" Yet, they flew over my head as a spark ignited within me, reminding my body of historical intimidation.

⠀"You're the one who has no business here," I hissed through my teeth, taking careful and balanced steps forward. "Take it elsewhere!"

⠀"Marley, stop."

⠀"You strangers to us, have no business telling us to get out of our own place." His friend decided to add, coming up behind the leader to back him up as they had no trouble in trying to step over Daryl and towards the little woman staring them down.

⠀"Strangers?" I scoffed, laughing breathily and closing my eyes for a second before profiling my stance towards them and carrying on. "You don't want to know what I do to strangers."

⠀"Even ones I've just met."

⠀They didn't reply, seeming to wait for what I had next. And giving time for Daryl to call my name in pleading once more.

⠀"And sweetheart... you've already met me twice."

⠀and sweetheart... you've already met me twice.

⠀My hands suddenly became heavy, and my once confident shoulders slumped into myself as the image of Randall with a lighter pressed to his cheek rose in my head. It set me off balance, and my change in expression was taken in by all around me. I wasn't the intimidating, and cruel girl anymore― that was a promise I had made to myself but it was slowly turning to dust right before me.

⠀As silence plagued the room, I found myself behind Daryl and his armored back. Despite this barrier, I felt that sickening and almost demonic shadow build up inside me like they had done all winter and before that. A ticking time bomb that I never realised was there, and so I couldn't disarm.

⠀"Well..." One of them started, but I was too distracted by my uneven breaths- from exhaustion, heat, or anxiety I didn't know. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm not leaving."

⠀Instead of my own voice, T-Dog's status became known as he rounded a concrete corner, with firearm raised. "You ain't coming in either."

⠀"Hey, this is my house, my rules. I go where I damn well please." His voice was louder now, possibly catching the others attention from far inside the block. I was surprised no roamer made their way from the tombs ― one of them, from anywhere.

⠀And with his words, our breaths were caught in the air. Conjuring our anger as it sifted through the dust. It was almost pliable.

⠀But one of them handled it and made stupid bravery when they opened their mouth to speak. "Or we'll just take what you have!" Cockiness laced his words, as he discreetly nudged his partner-in-crime ― or what seemed more to be leader ― eyeing the gate leading to the cells. But his leaders eyes lazily didn't follow, instead, trailing them from the pointed weapon to my own eyes. As did his weapon, swinging mercilessly and carelessly in the air.

⠀I almost jumped from my skin when Daryl's yell was hoarse, and all too sudden. "There ain't nothing for you here. Why don't you go back to your own sandbox!?" I winced from behind him, gripping my own fists between my fingers.

⠀"H-H-Hey," another breath caught in my throat when Rick appeared over my shoulder, arms raised. "Everyone relax! There's no need for this." My shoulders straightened when I turned my gaze back towards the inmates. It seemed the attempt to divert the river was futile. Their eyes still reflected with anger.

⠀"How many of you are in there?" The man questioned briskly.

⠀Rick peered at that question. "Too many for you to handle."

⠀A pregnant woman; a child; a thin lady who had never mastered a gun; an old crippled man and his sobbing children; a man who was almost mute until now; and another whose moral code was stuck with every ounce of willpower he had ever possessed. Real army we got there(!).

⠀And I was the girl who had ghosted threats, blood on her hands ― but an all too unpredictability due to breaking her own soul and having others do the same just years before. Not the ideal knight on the chessboard.

⠀"You guys rob a bank, or something? Why don't you take him to a hospital?" I hadn't realised my eyes had drifted to Rick until I needed to turn my neck back over to the inmates ― in almost astonishment and confusion.

⠀Disbelief was the right word, I figured that out with the pause in the air.

⠀I almost felt uncomfortable in front of the inmates, as I exchanged a fleeting glance between Daryl; who had slowly lowered the head of his crossbow, dropping his shoulder to peer at me.

⠀"What?" I was the first to say something, taking half a step forward, squinting against what little light reflected into my eyes. "Are you that..." I then realised my mistake. "Sheltered?"

⠀Nobody else spoke a word, and I took my turn again on sentences. "How long has it been since you've seen outside tha-... that place?"

⠀"Going on like ten months?" The leader replied as he glanced around with his shifty eyes.

⠀"A riot broke out," another continued. "Ain't never seen anything like it."

⠀I hid my eyes downwards, just listening to the honestly and ignorance in their voices. Instead my view was the shoulder of Daryl's jacket, as he kept a steady posture in front of my own.

⠀"Attica on speed, man." I didn't know what attica was, but the new voice made me look down further.

⠀"Then we heard about dudes going cannibal, dying, coming back to life? Crazy."

⠀If that was the only thing I'd think about for 'going on ten months', it would be bliss compared to the open-eyed nightmare I had seen. Whilst they sat, and rifled their way through strewn paper on the floors of their cozy prison, I was out there and dying.

⠀But I could only imagine the sudden shock they were about to receive ― the nearly a years worth of adjustment they would have to make up for if we showed them mercy.

⠀I wasn't going to watch the years worth of grief.

⠀"Yeah, well that was two hundred and ninety-two days ago," a new one answered, solemness lacing his voice.

⠀"Ninety-four according to my-"

⠀"Shut up!" The leader interrupted, putting a stop to the unnecessary squabble with a harsh and cold look to the other one.

⠀"We were thinking that the army or the national guard should be showing up any day now." He watched us, and he was still ignorant. He watched me as I had severed a man's leg and he was still ignorant. He watched as we drew guns on him and lead them past roamer filled hallways ― and he was still ignorant. It seemed it had been bliss till now.

⠀I shrugged slightly, looking up and to the big man. "And you waited two hundred..." I paused when my eyes scanned them, lifting an eyebrow. "And ninety-two days to come to that conclusion?"

⠀None of them answered, so when I exchanged a look of knowing between Rick, and then again between T-Dog and Daryl; our own leader followed up. "There is no army." He took several paces forward. "There's no government, no hospitals, no police."

⠀"It's all gone."

⠀There was a short interval, as I blinked slowly, analysing their reactions.

⠀"For real?" The one with the moustache asked.

⠀"Serious."

⠀"What about my moms?" The straight faced man teetered between his two, once unshaken, legs. "My kids? And my old lady?"

⠀When he, himself, took a stance before us and leant forward, I stood back. I expected him to lunge and deny what we had told him but his words seemed he had thrown it away altogether. "Yo, you got a cell phone or something that we can call our families?"

⠀I scoffed lightly, almost whispering. "Yeah." He didn't look convinced.

⠀Daryl, who still held his crossbow tightly, continued on. "You just don' get it, do you?" He snapped, making his eyes small, and scrutinising.

⠀"No phones, no computers," Rick confirmed. "As far as we can see, at least half the population's been wiped out. Prob'ly more."

⠀Their faces fell, even their leader. Their sudden silence, and seemingly surrender to loss of hope was surprising.

⠀"Ain't no way."

⠀"See for yourself," Rick waved over to them.

⠀He rushed past them and towards the concrete steps that lead outside. With the eyes of us all, the larger man followed him, and the rest did the same. They were being lured by the hot sun that only teased through the barred windows. It must have been ― or it was  ― two hundred and ninety-two days since they tasted the outside.

⠀Along with T-Dog and Daryl, they all made their way to the exit and I was drawn somewhere else. I stayed glued to the spot, waiting till the last of their footsteps would become a mere echo.

⠀But one decided to stay longer, and I looked on expectantly as Daryl took a few steps but stopped at the lip of the daylight. He turned, looking over his shoulder. "What the hell was you doing?" His voice was quiet, and just mine to hear.

⠀I fluttered my eyelashes, taken aback slightly. Licking my lips before I spoke, my words seemed just the same. "I dropped my lance, I was going to get it back."

⠀He shook his head slowly. "You don't need to. We'll get it later." His blue eyes were softening, cast away but still riddled with contact.

⠀"I do." I almost heard tears lacing my words, as the darkness of the tombs beckoned me forth. Nearly abandoning the conversation, my thoughts were cut off.

⠀"You don't need to try and be a hero, Marls," it seemed like the voice of reason wasn't his usual language. It was all too foreign sounding, like he had rehearsed it for me to hear. A convincing tone, and pleading pitch. It didn't work.

⠀I took one last glance to him. "I know I'm not a hero," the syllables were choking, like I wasn't allowed to talk about heroes.

⠀But he wasn't there to listen anymore, as our words were replaced by the sharp footsteps that left the building, and left me.

⠀Once again, looking through the barred gates, it was inviting but haunting. The darkness and I, it would seem, had something in common. According to whatever god we had, and whatever sentences left James Blake's mouth ― like the judge and executioner ― there seemed to be no difference between owning up to my darkness, and the darkness owning me.

━━━━━━━━━━

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ note.
most of you will probably be like "whoa, why didn't daryl stay and try to stop her." the original draft had him trying to physically drag her back into the cellblock then i remembered what i was writing and was like "um what??" i would never want them to be that physical like that, where it gets them into an argument.

reasons why he didn't stop her;
• he knows she can handle herself,
he has seen corpses of the men
she has killed in just a few minutes.
• he doesn't want it to seem like
he cares
• only when he knows she isn't
trying to be the big hero is he comforted
because he knows that the last
time she tried being a hero (saving carl)
it began her downfall.
• again, he doesn't want it to
seen like he cares
• flashback to my edit "She's a monster
but do you even care?" No
he doesn't, not really.
• funnily he's concerned about
hero her because when it's "i know
I'm a monster" Marley she does
less damage and when it's
"gotta do what's good for everyone
even if they disagree" aka s2 Marls
it's not so gr8 and she's mean
even to him
• let's just all be happy about
"I know I'm a monster" Marley
than the former.

I love you guys so much
( edited ✓ )