CHAPTER FIVE ,
scratches

⠀A harsh snap echoed in the air. It was all too familiar. Where I was, and what was happening. Yet I had no idea what was going. I blinked feverishly into the fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling.

⠀Everything seemed clinical for my predicament. The smell ― that was the problem ― there wasn't any. It was a clean room, and I seemed to be propped on one end.

⠀How I got here, I have no idea.

⠀It was then the senses in my limbs seemed to come back. Each like a step on a new road, warm and aching. I realised where I was.

⠀I was where I had died, or at least, started to.

⠀It was no lie, and no secret, that dying hadn't done the best of things to me. It made me feel vulnerable, darkened, sometimes hollow. Like it had taken a piece of me and was never going to give it back. I couldn't piece myself back together when finding the parts that fitted was an impossibly difficult challenge.

⠀I hastily pressed a hand to my side, feeling the blood seep between my fingers. It etched into the scars and cracks in my palms, covering them endlessly with a deep dark red. I looked down to the stain on my shirt, it spreading like wildfire across my abdomen. Almost like a disease.

⠀Yet it didn't hurt, and that intrigued me. Where my hands were pressed, the pressure should send a shockwave of nausea up my body ― something awful, and harrowing. It should be making me scream. I didn't remember much about me dying, but I remember screaming. Those sounds were still stuck in my cranium, and every so often I heard them clearly in the air.

⠀It was then my eyes found a figure in front of me; a body lay on its side, motionless and cold. No life seemed to rise off it, yet a steam flowed above it. Giving off last of its life in the form of grey smoke.

⠀I moved towards it, my jeans scratching my hips as I manoeuvred forward on the ground. Keeping a hand to my side, I eventually found the body within reach.

⠀Taking its shoulder, I pulled and turned them over.

⠀It had to be some... joke.

⠀My eyes stared back into my own, wide and desperate. The body was mine. This carcass of a person was me. It made me question who I was in that moment, and all I could do was shake. Spotting the identical blood on the bodies abdomen, I went to touch it but retracted my hands as the heat still coming off the body burnt my fingertips.

⠀Turning my hands over, there was blood and charred fingerprints. I didn't know what to do because none of it made any sense.

⠀And I suddenly realised there was no wound on me, not a scratch. The real me. The me, me. There was just blood, and there was just the boxcutter in my grasp.

⠀The sound of it falling to the concrete filled the room with a thunderous crack, making me lift the heels of my hands towards my ears, pressing firmly. I gritted my teeth, trying to block out the familiar sound of screams. And then I realised they were emitting from my own throat.

⠀The body erupted in flames, and I watched idly as the orange waves made their way towards me. They bit at my skin, and I didn't have it in me to move.

⠀I screamed till my lips turned blue, and only when I lifted my palm to see a slit in my flesh, bleeding so forth ― did I wake up.

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⠀Maybe because I expected to scream, I was surprised to see the dusk sky above me. I heard my back click as I leant forward, using the heels of my hands, digging into the dirt. The ground was dry and warm, and it crumbled in my palms as I inspected the small scratches that painted my skin. We all had our fair share of bruises and gashes, so it was all my body now. The discoloured flesh, and deep indents ― it was all, now, me.

⠀I had fallen asleep with the Greene sister's tune still in my ears, but it turned into familial screams; it made my eyes heavy and my eardrums ache.

⠀I expected to find everyone awake since I was used to it. Catching up on rest was my body's priority, but last night it seemed to give up like it had done before. And I welcomed the nightmare ― or whatever it was ― they're rehearsals for dangerous events to come. They get you ready for the worst and best of things.

⠀For some reason... I didn't want to be ready for that.

⠀Craning my neck to view the surroundings, the only other person who seemed to be up was Rick, who took his time inspecting the gate between the courtyard and us. A rickety, metal wound wire wall held between our family and what will become of us.

⠀The air around me was thick and humid, so I shuffled out of the heavy poncho Daryl had lent me the night before. I left it where I had been, and brushed the dirt from my torn jeans when I stood up.

⠀Creeping up the path, Rick cast a look over his shoulder, then continued his watch. When I finally made my place beside him, neither of us spoke. Instead, leaving the atmosphere to fill with heat; it drenched us in warmth, and sweat. It made the sleeves of my t-shirt stick to my skin. Crossing my arms over my chest, I paced on the spot.

⠀"We're going in, hand-to-hand," he announced to me, keeping his gravelly voice quiet between us. "We'll do a... formation." It was clear he was tired, still recovering from the strenuous events from yesterday. But with all this, he was eager to push forward.

⠀I nodded, then a frown cast my features. "Do you― want me to?" I looked into Rick's eyes seeing the heavy bags beneath them turning dark, due to the lack of sleep. I shrugged gently when he didn't answer me immediately, but he eventually spoke.

⠀"Would you?"

⠀"Yeah... I think I'm okay now," I briefly looked down to my arms, still sensing the tightly wound skin across my stomach. Even though I felt the scars as if they were objects pressing against my organs, I think I could swing a weapon just fine. "I hope so, anyway."

⠀"I hope so too," he answered back, gripping my arm and squeezing comfortingly, but the gesture made me back into myself and he let go.

⠀Instead, I changed the subject. "You did well, you know?" I said to him pointedly, stepping away so I could look at him straighter. "Getting us here, all alive."

⠀"Not all alive," he looked to the ground, kicking a stone into the gravel. Rick brought a hand to his forehead, pinching the skin between his brows in frustration. "Not all alive."

⠀I sighed heavily, letting my shoulders drop. "Maybe not, but, that wasn't your fault."

⠀"I'm not talking just about them."

⠀It took me a moment, and then I realised. So I stepped forward, looking up at the man through the tinted hair that fell in my eyes. "I'm still here."

⠀"I'm still here."

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⠀Hershel nodded towards the group of us before Rick hastily dragged the gate to one side and seeming to open the gates of hell. I saw him grit his teeth with intense (what seemed to be) anger, and it made me grip the handle of my lance. Due to my height, it stretched to the ground, the duct taped kitchen knife on the end of the old wooden stick, making indents wherever it went.

⠀We kept our formation as we stepped into the courtyard, and I felt my heart thumping against my ribs. I was worried that I would make myself dizzy, so I kept my eyes on my surroundings; grounding myself.

⠀Rick took the lead with T-Dog, followed by Daryl and Glenn at their sides. Maggie and I took the back, cautiously using our balance to advantage. The only thing I couldn't do was keep an eye out for the walkers the people at the front were taking out. Instead, the others thrashing at the fence were in my eyes. They hollered and shouted, gaining the spare walkers attention.

⠀But it wasn't all of them, as one approached me, it's soft skull split easily beneath the swipe of my lance. It took me by surprise, and I let out a shaky breath.

⠀Glenn screeched. "Get tight! Get tight!" As he did, a walker came towards me, and I snapped its knee under the heel of my breaking boot. It fell to the ground in its own pile, and I struck its left eye with the lance. The weapon whipped up to the sky and lay against my shoulder, and I felt the faint tickle of blood lay across my jaw.

⠀I took a step closer to the bunch, and we continued across the cement. A louder voice caught my attention, making me turn just as I was cautiously stepping over a body. Rick shouted above the deep moans and yelling. "Wait! T! T!" I didn't catch what was going on but lost contact with the moment as another approached.

⠀Luckily, Daryl took it out with his own knife just as I was about to swipe forward. It fell like all the others.

⠀"Nearly there."

⠀My nerves were calmed as the noises got quite, and my steps became evener. My glances were sporadic, and my heart was still beating erratically.

⠀There was an overpass coming over our head, and I craned my neck upwards. It had marks and handprints lain across the bricks, and I swallowed heavily at the dark stains.

⠀"Shit!" At this point, I was facing the rest of them. Rick signalled for us to step back, and my back hit the slightly opened door of what looked to be a guards office. I carefully held the edge, gripping tighter as I spotted what our leader had seen ― what seemed to be a herd, slowly filtering its way from a small gated area. It made me bite the inside of my cheek, keeping any noise of protestations or fear escape me.

⠀Two... and then four walkers, clad in greased riot gear, reeled their ugly heads at our forms. They growled against the hard plastic of their helmets. Their glassy white eyes were wide as they spotted what they wanted to be their next meal.

⠀Daryl walked past most of us, lifting his crossbow and firing directly towards us. But, unluckily for us, the bolt only pathetically bounced against the impenetrable material.

⠀But my attention was soon grasped to my shoulder, as the once hidden walker from the office reached towards my back. It held my neck, clawing at the edge of my jaw.

⠀I felt a scream ripple it's way up my throat like a torrential, and rupturing tide. It didn't escape, instead rang itself through my skull and every nerve I possessed.

⠀Maggie gripped me too, pulling me haste towards her and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. It was only then that I got a good look at the creature. It had a tight mask, digging into the rotting flesh of its bald head.

⠀Maggie and Glenn shoved me behind them as I stuttered out, my legs shaking beneath me.

⠀She took her machete to it, failing but then shoving it away. I almost dropped my lance but took it tightly in my hand as Glenn and I simultaneously attacked a loan, prison uniform clad, walker, making its way forward. He finished it off on the ground, stabbing it ferociously with his broken pipe.

⠀When I turned on my heels, the rest were still trying to take down the guards by repeatedly striking them. And so I almost lost my breathe as I sprinted forward towards T-Dog, using my shoulder to try and throw it to the ground. But the heavy thing only stumbled backwards, keeping its balance before us. I saw Rick try the same thing, but he succeeded at taking it down. He called for Daryl in a booming volume and the man came towards him to close the fence.

⠀The walkers were still in front of us, including the gas-masked one. It lingered behind me, and I turned towards it with furrowed brows and gritted teeth. With its back facing me, curling it's itching fingers and sniffing wildly, I twirled my lance between my fingers for a moment before finding the end of my weapon sticking through its neck.

⠀It didn't strike anything important, as the thing still lashed out at its surroundings. Gathering all the strength in my arms, I yelled loudly with frustration as I directed the whole body towards the room from whence it came.

⠀Its gear clattered against the door, falling almost slowly like a shattered building. Right into the darkness as I followed.

⠀Anger coursed through my veins, at such a not-worth-it thing. I normally only felt this way against people ― but this one hurt me.

⠀It clawed the air between us, and I leant down quickly and gripped the heavy mask upon its face. Although the straps latched around its skull, I pulled quickly letting the skin peel away from its writhing skull. With what little sunlight the door allowed in, I took a step back to reach in with my lance and strike it between its eyes. Taking a moment to twist it between the bones and liquids, its limbs fell.

⠀Blowing the hair from my face, I reached up to the scratches on my neck, looking down at the small specks of blood that gathered in my hand. I rubbed furiously on the stinging wounds, letting my palms press tightly against my windpipe.

⠀Once it seemed the creatures around us didn't move, our personal-walker-killing-posse paced around looking for any breaks in the walls; besides the gate that had been latched shut. I stepped into the middle of the group, swinging the lance to face downwards, covering the scratches with my hand, still. The sounds of squelching skin and crunching of bones seemed to echo against the high walls, the smell of flesh and death hung in the air.

⠀All of our bodies drenched in sweat and dirt, we looked around to a courtyard littered and seemingly now safe.

⠀"Stop," Rick ordered.

⠀"It looks secure," Glenn spoke up, turning his weapon between his hands impatiently. I nodded in agreement, wincing on reflex.

⠀"Not from the look of that courtyard over there." Daryl stepped forward, pointing over at the captive herd. He gripped his knife as he continued. "And that's a civilian."

⠀I let out a heavy sigh, my back spilling over as I leant forward onto my knees. My palms stretched over my bones, and I stared with wide eyes at our collective shoes ― blood spilling into the cracks of the concrete.

⠀T-dog explained further. "So the interior could be overrun by walkers from outside the prison..." he leant against the pillar holding up the overpass, gripping the plastic shield to his chest in exhaustion.

⠀"Well, if there's walls down in this place, what are we gonna do? We can't rebuild this whole place."

⠀I felt the need to speak but had no viable words. "I didn't take shop class, sorry."

⠀Everyone paused for a moment.

⠀Rick spoke next. "We can't risk a blind spot. We have to push in."

⠀I pushed up from my knees, following everyone as Rick led us towards a door. It was up a small flight of stone steps after a creaking metal door. Stepping lightly on my feet behind Daryl and in front of Maggie. Small shadows dotted our skin as the shade filtered over us.

⠀I heard the steady scrape from my lance, and I lifted it up onto my shoulder, laying carefully on the space between my neck and shoulder.

⠀I reluctantly watched Rick turn to us with a nod, tightening his fist around the handle of the door.

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(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ note.
*serious conversation*
marley: i have nothing to say
marley to marley: say something anyway
( edited ✓ )