Are we really living?//TWD

THIRTY-THREE

I hate to say this but I really miss my meds, but I hate how sometimes they make me really fucking tired and that irritates me. But they keep me stable enough to get through the day.

Everyone in the group didn't really talk to me after the whole fight thing, but I knew they were concerned about me.

I ran my knuckles under the tap water cleaning them a bit, in fact they were busted open and most of the blood isn't even mine.

I can't believe I let myself get this angry and took it out on someone I didn't even know.

Abraham walked to my side as my hands were getting cleaned up. "Damn dolly" Abraham blows out air while looking at the back of my hands.

"I know, I wouldn't be surprised if my fingers dislocate" I say and he leans his back against the counter.

"You did a number on that woman's face, her face looks all black and blue now" he reveals. Wow all I have to say is that bitch deserved it considering she called me a dyke and a whore.

"Stupid ass bitch" I say under my breath and Abraham laughs throwing his head back.

"I'm beginning to like you a lot more every day" he reveals and I laugh.

"Good. Cause you never know when I'm gonna save your ginger ass again" I say and he puts a hand over his chest dramatically.

"I'm so hurt, I totally didn't know I was ginger" he says sarcastically.

"Hate to break it to you man" I say with a grin and he playfully punches my shoulder.

I like how me and Abraham are like brother and sister but more like brothers, cause I am a very rough person and sometimes people can forget I'm a woman.

I dry up my hands and what catches my attention and everyone else's is a knock on the door.

Michonne walks to the door and opens it. "Yes?" She says to the person outside.

"Can I speak to Tonya?" The familiar voice asks. Michonne looks to me from to the door, and motions her head to the person.

I take each step slow as I walk to the doorway, I look at the person on the other side with a mean look.

"Can we speak outside?" Deanna asks and I look to Michonne, then I nod.

I walk onto the porch, closing the door behind me while Deanna stands on the porch, looking up at me cause of the height difference.

"I still can't figure you out yet, Ms. Germanotta" she says and I cross my arms over my chest.

"How so?" I ask her, narrowing my eyes.

"I'm wondering if all that anger you have, can go towards a job you can do" she says then she blows out a breath of air.

I don't choose to be angry, it's just how life programmed my brain to be. All the heartache, sickness, violence, and hatred made me the way I am.

"You said that you were a trauma surgeon and mechanical engineer correct?" She questions and I nod once.

"But I don't want to always stay here, I would like to go out on runs sometimes" I say and she gives me a sad smile.

"People like me, Tonya aren't built for this kind of world, but you. I'm thinking you can be in charge of it" she blurts out.

But I don't like being in charge, cause when your in charge or the leader everyone comes to you with their problems. And I'm not good with people.

***

"Do you know how much you costed me by leaving Randy?" My father yells at me.

After my husband that my father arranged for me, hit me I left him, I tried to go to the police but all they said was it doesn't qualify as abuse.

"But he hit me, a 45 year old man that you made me marry hit me, a 15 year old!" I scream at him, on his front lawn.

"Your making me look like a bad parent!-" he yells back.

"Because you are!" I cut him off but he grabs my hair by the roots and smashes the other side of my head into the pavement.

Everything goes black.

I wake up feeling sweaty and panicky, I look around trying to remember where I am. It takes me a minute to process everything in the room, but as soon as I remember I relax a bit.

My heavy breathing starts to calm down, as I sit on the couch with Tara beside me curled up on the arm of the couch with her feet on my lap.

I blow out a breath of air and I rub my face with my hands, and I tuck my hair behind my ears with both hands.

"It was just a bad dream, I'm not there anymore, it's gonna be alright" I say to myself in a almost whisper.

I wanted to cry but my eyes wouldn't let me and everytime I would cry I feel weak and pathetic.

I hate myself a lot.

I just wish I was different not so damaged or so violent.