Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 004 ] we were never meant to survive

004: we were never meant to survive

There was slight guilt that clouded Joey's mind. She wasn't sure what to do with it. Part of her felt suffocated having to trail on Bill's heels for days on end, clutching a plush toy like it was her lifeline. Perhaps it was ━ just a soft reminder to the life that used to be. However, she wanted to rip its stuffing out sometimes when she couldn't sleep. When they'd settle in abandoned buildings and shops, sometimes taking over other peoples old camps, it made her insides coil and sour. Bill never seemed to mind, though ━ Joey often wondered if it was just a façade.

They were in an old building that seemed to be an old preschool. Normally Joey would scold Bill and insist they stay somewhere else ━ trying to sleep, with rotters clawing at the doors, in a place where kids used to roam free ━ especially now knowing that they're probably dead ━ wasn't exactly comforting. If anything, it made Joey feel worse than ever, especially clutching onto the teddy bear that was definitely meant for kids that used to be there. Her heart stammered in her chest as she tucked her hair back into a braid. She had found a clean brush in one of the stores and even though Bill didn't consider it a "necessity", she stopped taking his word a little while ago. Small things like brushing her hair and being able to cuddle up next to something made her feel all the more grounded, but also craving her past life. But when her mind began to wander she was getting better at bringing herself back down.

She watched him intently as he put out the small bonfire with the bottom of his boot, wincing gently as the ambers floated up his shirt. He had wiggle the fabric against the air to get them out, and Joey tried to fight back a laugh, all the while he flipped her off. "Not funny,"

"Why are you putting out the fire anyways?" she questioned, settling down on the makeshift bed, head a little far up in the stars still. They had set up cups and bowls outside of the building, and underneath some of the holes in the ceiling in hopes for rain. They were running out of water, and it hadn't rained for weeks, the roads cracking under the intense sun rays during the day and the grass turning from its usual luscious green to a dry, cracked beige from lack of maintenance. The once pruned lawns of suburbs turned into a bland vast of fawn. The pair of them had gotten used to hearing and seeing crows swoop down to pick away at the corpses, turkey vultures perching on top of trees as they fixated on the many available meals. Joey had one time even seen a rotter being attacked by vultures, its limbs trying to swat them away. It made her wonder if they could feel the beaks being jabbed into their flesh, pulling away, rotting. Their groans seemed to get louder, but Joey chalked that up to be a figment of her imagination ━ something to scare herself even more with.

Joey spent a majority of her time trying to pry details out of Bill - and taking everything he was doing and perfecting it. There were cuts and scabs all over her hands from trying to flip her butterfly knife and practice her tricks. Bill would scold at her when they would be in close proximity and she would be flipping the blade back and forth, hiss at it slicing her skin. They would ample amounts of rotters to kill after that.

She'd pick up on his slight mannerisms, like toying with the tape around the grip of his knife, or impulsively cleaning the barrel of his gun. They were running out of ammunition, as well - Joey felt like they were teetering near the edge of the end. They had made it out of California about a month after San Jose, and leaving the state was more sentimental than Bill put out. Part of him felt as though it was necessary for Joey's sake, to pretend like he was okay, but he wasn't sure if he was ready yet. Leaving California meant leaving everyone else behind. Leaving Ellie behind. But they were settled in Nevada, now, and it wouldn't be too long until he could drown in his sorrows in the comfort of a bed and four walls. Maybe he could leave Joey, pursue a life elsewhere. She reminded him too much of Ellie that physically hurt to look at her, to hear her talk, to get hurt. He felt himself get each injury she did, internal or not. Going their separate ways would be the most notable option.