"She was like a new light. A new beginning. A new end." - Rick Grimes.
This story is about Bella Sinclair and her journey through the new world of the dead. A story of hope, of justice, of family and most importantly, of love. It focuses on a simil...
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My fingers glided against each other, as the smooth liquid coated my skin.
A flash; drawing my heavy eyelids shut.
I tried to shake away the horrors that were latched onto my mind. But to no prevail.
I sucked in a shaky breath and looked up from the tantalising substance, fighting from within to hold myself back from the darkness that wanted to consume me. The shadows that had been growing and overthrowing the light for so long.
My mind was pulsating, throbbing in agony. At every blink, I saw her. I saw her fall.
I sighed painfully, pulling myself to the basin that had been quarterly filled with water.
Why? Why her?
I finally braved myself to look upon the blood that had stained me, soon feeling a churning rise from within. It was everywhere. I rushed myself to the toilet behind me, throwing my knees to the ground and viciously brought up the little food that was remaining in my stomach. The action left a burning sensation at the back of my throat, as I wiped away the saliva dripping from the side of my mouth. Falling backwards against the wall, I pulled my knees into my chest and began to feel the tears make their way to the surface.
I couldn't save her.
I just couldn't.
- Twelve Hours Earlier -
My eyes began to draw open as the rising sun awakened me from my light rest. With a few heavy blinks to adapt to the bright contrast, I turned onto my side and let out a deep breath through my nose.
Daryl and I had faced a long drive last night, that led us into Atlanta; the home of the herds as we knew it to be. Our car tapped out after we had to make a stop when the marked vehicle we were following halted in the middle of the road; so the only thing we know is that they were heading further into the city, we just don't know where specifically. We holed up in a service centre for temporary housing. A place that used to be my second home through my later childhood, after my mom died.
Looking out through the window, I caught sight of a dark grey mist. More like smoke, even. I leant up onto my elbows, before ducking my head under the top bunk I had been sleeping upon, only to find an empty bed where Daryl should be. I automatically reached for my bowie knife, but my hand could only grasp thin air. I cursed to myself, making a mental note to never take that damn holster off, ever.
Having picked up Carol's rifle that she had left in the vehicle she was attempting to run away in, I made my way to the door that led out onto the rooftop in the centre of the building. I felt my emotions consume me as I watched Daryl carrying a body in a white cloth, towards the fire he had clearly made. He was burning the bodies; cremating them; respecting them. Just as Beth had taught him to do.
Pushing through the door, I made my way to his side. Dabbling with the thought, I decided to take his hand in mine as we watched the fire in silence. A moment of deference for Beth, and for Charlie, both of whom we found to bring out the best in us.
