liv. gift of god

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FIFTY FOUR. gift of god







     WHEN she got hurt, there was something that her father would always tell her

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WHEN she got hurt, there was something that her father would always tell her. "Kid, if you got a pulse - you'll be fine." It was almost an automated response, which was usually followed by a set of instructions. Do your homework. Clean your room. Get me a beer. It was continuously like that, up until the end. Then he died, leaving her alone in a rotting world with no instructions.

No where to go. No one to keep her safe. So, she had to do it all by herself. Theo learned to survive on her own, without the pressure of her father breathing down her neck every five seconds. She was free. Let loose in a broken world, hers to roam and explore.

Then came the responsibility of other people. Her actions had consequences. They mattered. Theo had to relearn how to be careful, how to think things through before she acted on the situation at hand. And there she was, staring at the now empty space where Carl Grimes once stood -the back door that resided in the kitchen slamming shut. Just a few feet away laid the body of Rick Grimes, unmoving and seemingly... well, he looked dead.

Theo used to love the freedom of not constantly being told what to do. But at the moment, she never in her life wanted to have a set of instructions more than she did right now. Standing in the dark living room, curtains and blinds blocking the sunlight from the blue sky outside - she felt frozen. Light blonde strands of tangled hair whisking against her face as she turned her eyes from the spot Carl once stood and over to Rick.

What are you supposed to do? She questioned herself, shifting on her feet and nervously running her thumb over her fingers that were clamped into a tight fist.

"Kid, if you got a pulse - you'll be fine."

The words echoed around in her head, eyes widening slightly as she figured out what to do after standing frozen in the quiet living room for several minutes. The boots she wore smacked against the wooden floorboards, her knees slamming against the surface as she hastily kneeled down to Ricks level.

"You better have a pulse, because I don't know how to tell someone bad news." Her voice came out shaky, attempting to use sarcasm to cover up the fear that resided deep inside of her chest. "Please have a pulse."

Placing her hand against the side of Ricks face, she frowned softly at the bruises and swollen skin before moving her small fingers down to his neck. Pressing her pointy and middle finger into the skin underneath his jaw, Theo allowed a trembling breath leave her chapped lips as she searched desperately for the rhythmic beat that would confirm his survival. But there was nothing.

At the revelation, a frustrated sigh escaped from the barrens of her throat as she shook her head and tore her hand away from his neck. "Rick." Theo whispered, placing her hands against her knees while she stared at the man's face - waiting for something, anything, to happen.

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