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Don't Tell Me To Move

I wasn't sure how many days I spent in bed, but I think I saw the sun rise and set at least three times. I kept my head firmly on the pillow, and the quilt tightly tucked underneath my chin, my eyes never leaving the view out my window. Most of it was blocked by the house next door, but I could see a few trees and a splash of sky.

I thought a lot about everything. I thought about how Beth and Hershel never got the chance to live here, it would've been perfect for them. I thought about how much pain Noah had been in as he got torn apart right in front of me. I thought how stupid I was to kiss Carl after it happened. I had been trying to figure out why I did it, why did I choose that moment. I regretted it, sure, but I did it for a reason. I concluded that I was in an overly emotional state and it was clouding my decision making skills, causing me to act like an idiot. Whether that was the truth, I wasn't sure.

But by now, I was sick of my endless cycle of crying until my chest hurt, sleeping until I screamed myself awake, then staring blankly into space. My legs were weak when they first touched the wooden floor, but they managed to carry me to the bathroom. I showered, brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and stood by the front door. I guess it was time to face the world again.

I regretted my decision when I was barely ten paces from my house.

"Annabelle, may I speak with you?" It was Deanna, and she didn't look great. I understood she was mourning the death of a son, something no one should ever go through, so I nodded and followed to the steps of her own house. I knew she would want to speak about that night, and she knew I knew.

"Tell me what happened." She asked gently. I had been shaking since I sat down. I had to tell her the truth, no matter how harsh it was.

"Aiden got himself killed. He almost killed Tara, too. We're lucky she's alive. Nicholas is the reason Noah is dead." I bluntly replied in a hoarse, unused voice, ignoring her slightly angered expression. I had been replaying that day over and over in my head, I could never forget what happened. I went home before she could say anything, her glare following me all the way.

I stopped on the porch, seeing Glenn with his head in his hands. I had been avoiding pretty much everyone recently, but it was time to end that now.

"I know you're blaming yourself. You shouldn't. You know who's fault it is." I quietly told him, and he nodded at my words. "I wanted to kill him. When we were in the back of the van, and he was lying there. He couldn't fight back." I seethed.

"You can't think like that." Glenn said in a hushed tone.

"He got Noah killed, Glenn. He can't be trusted out there-"

He cut me off. "He's not going back out there. None of us are. Deanna banned us all from going outside the walls until this thing is cleared up." He held a blank gaze as he opened the door, stepping inside the house.

That's bullshit.

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"How's she doing?" I sat beside Eugene, who was holding Tara's limp hand in his own.

"No signs of improvement." He regretfully replied, the guilt evident in his eyes.

"Eugene, you were a hero out there. It was real brave, taking Tara to the van, drawing those walkers away. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." I insisted kindly. I thought I could forgive Eugene now for all his lies and deceptions.

I watched Pete Anderson walk over, his expression focused as he checked her IV drip and chart. I glanced over his shoulder, trying to take a peek. "You know, I can still help. The past three years, I've been training. I know everything there is to know, but with your-"