seventeen
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↳ pushing up daisies ↲

EVERYTHING WAS DIFFERENT AFTER ATLANTA.

The girl, we hadn't even been able to bury her body for closure. Maggie begged to find someplace safe for her sister, but it was an unrealistic wish. Beth's body was left lifeless under a small milita tent, a tarp placed over the cot she was left to rest.

Bob had been dismembered by the people of Terminus, but that wasn't what took him out. It was the bite he'd gotten prior to being taken by them. Then, after finding nothing left in Virginia besides a bitemark on Tyreese's arm, the group lost the willpower to move forward for days.

A service was put in place, but only one body was able to be placed beneath soil, forevermore pushing up daises.

The remainder of what was left of my group stood outside, putting Gabriel to use for once, with a bible. I was the only one not out there. I stayed in one of our empty cars pulled to the side of the road. My head rested against the glass window, my skin tingling from the heat it gave off. A pocketknife twisted in my fingers, making a click each time the blade swung out.

It had been hours of this: Listening to the sound of shoveling, and continuous prayers. I'd tried to help dig, but ended up having to excuse myself to dry heave in the sideline of trees. The amount of death we'd been through was nauseating. I'd been sick ever since, holed up in the backseat.

I knew it was selfish to stay in the car and not face reality. But, I was having an extremely hard time wrapping my head around the concept of death today. It had suddenly become too much of a casual occurrence. It was just an event, that would eventually happen to all of us. Because of this, it felt worthless grieve every time we lost someone. The graves, the crosses, it all became too much to handle anymore.

There was no peace in death—only continuation.

After my sister, all I wanted was to bury her, but much like Maggie, I couldn't. At least, not alone. Believe me, I had tried, but digging with my hands in the state of desperation had no effect on the ground. I wasn't near strong enough, not even to lift her into one. At the end of it all, she did not rest six feet under. Her corpse was left above ground, the wind and rain to wash her away, slowly. Her hands, her face, until her soul was carrion fueling the earth below her.

And now, now I wanted it to stop. Moving on always made it all seem so easy, and when we didn't have that option to go forward, It was suffocating, to say the least.

My knees pressed together, and I took a quick breath while watching Tara approach the car. She was disheveled, tired bruise-like colors under eyes. I hadn't spoke with her much since the incident. I hadn't spoken much to anyone, at all. And despite her small attempts at making conversation on the road, she'd more often than not, failed at keeping a conversation with me. She didn't know what to say most the time. I wished I could tell her that she didn't have to bother.

I had a deep urge to tell everyone not to bother.

Being spoken to condescendingly wasn't my favorite. It seemed like everyone thought I'd completely lost my marbles—when in reality, I just didn't feel like talking. Or doing much of anything.

I hadn't slept in days, either. And the scary part was, I didn't feel tired. Sure, I had less energy. . .but I hadn't gotten the inclination to even rest my eyes. It felt weird, but I didn't dwell on it much.

Everyone seemed to be thankful that I was okay. I'd gotten many hugs. Shoulder pats. Kind words.  I was suprised my absence had taken such an apparent toll on anyone. It felt good to be appreciated. Just not good enough to make me feel any better.

I knew Beth's arrival would have been one-thousand-times more significant. There was nothing not to like about that girl. She'd touched every persons heart without trying. Her smile was enough to keep the world's saddest man off a bridge.

Then, there was Carl. He tended to try and stray away from me, but pay me so many glances. He'd done so much for me the day Beth was shot. I couldn't possibly have asked him for anything else. Not to mention, I was mortified that I'd cried in his arms. I couldn't imagine how awkward that must have been for him. A girl he thought to be deceased, walking up to him, immediately sobbing into his only clean shirt.

He'd taken it like a champ, but I guessed that when I got back to being more like myself, he'd make fun of me for it. Maybe he already had. Maybe the whole reason he was staying away was because he felt embarrassed for me. God, the thought of it made me nauseous again. I could never live down such a vulnerable moment. There was no way Carl Grimes would let me.

"Hey," Tara finally started, laying her rifle on her lap.

I shifted uncomfortably in the backseat. "Hi."

"You've been in here a while." She swallowed dryly. "Just making sure you're doing okay."

"Fine. Tired."

"You should come out. It's too hot to be in this car for as long as you have." She worriedly glanced my way.

You could only leave it be for a while, before it was time to face it all again.

I moved my cheek from the window, lifting myself from the seat. "Okay."

She was first to leave her spot, being that my seat was too far in the back for a door. I crawled up to her empty spot, my hand holding the armrest tightly before reluctantly letting go, getting out of the vehicle.

I was instantly hit with the strong aroma of cotton, as its particles were flowing through the air, dancing between rays of balmy golden sunlight. The slight breeze then came against my face. It had been sweltering in the car. My feverish skin tingled at the cooled air, the temperature of my body neutralizing ever so slightly.

The sky was limitless, like a vast ocean of nothing but blue sea, for miles. The horizon itself was stretched, never coming to an end. I felt so insignificant amongst the spread of meadowy fields, the only shade being provided by the heavy rooted willow trees, planted long ago near the edges of the road. The vined branches extended downwards, fern stained leaves traveling with it, as if it were weeping.

My eyes adverted around, senses being overridden with dark green. This, I had decided, was now my favorite color out of all them.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid."

Gabriel closed his worn bible, holding it tightly in his hands as he looked to the last bit of soil Sasha sprinkled over her brothers grave. Two boards of rotting wood marked his grave. The grey knitted beanie of his was placed on top to make the spot truly belong to him.

Past Gabe, Carl was silently working on another grave marking. I briefly took note of his hands; the callouses that lined the insides of his palms. They stayed steady, keeping the wood upward while he wrapped vine around the finished cross. His eyebrows then knit together in focus as he pushed it into the dirt.

I wondered if he'd made one of those for me, when he thought me to be gone. It seemed like this was a skill of his. Like he'd been making crosses for the dead for a long while now. Or perhaps, this was only for Beth. He hadn't shown much grief over the loss of her. He'd remained calm and collected. His demeanor hadn't broken. I couldn't tell if he was simply trying to stay strong, or if he was just that good at moving on.

Obviously, I needed to take a page from his book. I hadn't reacted this poorly when my own mother died. Not even Allie. I'd been devastated, but not like this. It felt like I was suddenly grieving everyone in the world at once. This wasn't just about Beth. It had been the trigger. I'd been pushing my losses down for so long, that I'd finally cracked. I was breaking and everything was flowing out of me at once. I couldn't cope. I didn't know how.

I had been the last to attend Tyrese's service, and now I was the first leaving. I clutched my stomach as it twisted into an awful ache, backing away from the group solemnly surrounding his grave. I took the dirt road, staying in the shade of the trees as I walked on. The heat seemed to have discovered a way to seep inside my muscles, and ache my bones. I was too dehydrated to put up much of a sweat, subsequently bringing me to find the company of a tree trunk against my back, my legs sprawled out in the grass.

The weeping willow I took cover under felt sardonic. I'd reached a point where I felt I had no tears left—and now, I was sitting beneath a piece of nature that displayed eternal tears down its flowing branches.

But oh, did the shade feel nice.

I wished I could stay here forever, just like this. Picking white clover from the grass, leaning my head to watch the patterns of the breeze move through the long vines. I wasn't far enough to not hear Sasha sharing stories about Tyrese, but I had enough distance that allowed me to breathe. Their voices sounded like an old television playing films in black-and-white, the rush of the air against the leaves perfectly mimicking a soft static.

When I closed my eyes, it was a Sunday morning, and I was on the couch watching cartoons with Allie before church. The image dissipated when the branches hissed a warning at me that someone was walking through them. I reached for my gun, but it was only Carl. My fingers moved from the holster at the sight of him.

"It's been a week." Carl stated blankly.

I tilted my head at the strange statement, my eyes locking with his. I swiped the clover off my lap.

"It's been a week since Grady." He cleared away any confusion of mine, sitting down.

I picked at the grass as he came beside me, slight anger bubbling in my chest. "I know. I'm trying to get over it. I don't need you to keep a tally of how many days I've been—"

"That's not what I'm saying," He interrupted.

"Then what are you?" I asked, looking at him.

He sighed. "I've been watching you die, slowly, for seven days. My dad said I needed to give you time—to give you space, but I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore."

I looked away from him. "The regret is eating me alive."

Carl turned himself at me. "It's not called regret. You didn't do anything wrong. It's guilt. Survivors guilt. And you need to stop. I said it once, and I'll say it again—it wouldn't have hurt any less if it had been you. It's just the way things turned out and you need to find a way to accept that."

Before I could get any words out, he opened his pack and took out a bag of assorted tree nuts, cranberries, and M&M's. He carefully tossed them onto my lap. As I examined the bag, he stood to leave.

"If you don't eat, I'm going to be mad. Especially if you waste that trail mix. It's my favorite, and I'm only sharing because you look like shit. You're too skinny."

I tried to think up an insult to fire back with, but I only drew a blank. I simply nodded, and he turned without waiting for a thanks.

"It's it means anything, I'm glad you're here." He stated, then walked through the hanging branches to get back onto the road.

Although I fought it,
I felt my lips tug upward.

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2,178 words • 1:02 pm

GUYS LAKEKEJDJF OMG OHMGMY jsjdjfjymngKYNYN.

see you soon, and happy mother's day to all the MILFs and future MILFs out there

sincerely yours,
nika.