"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...
Announcement: Bella's POV will be displayed in Italics and Rick's POV will be displayed in Bold further towards the end of this chapter, for a sliced style of reading.
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"Rise an shine sleepy head." Shane kicked the bottom of Rick's boot and walked over to the opposite wall, arms folded and expression stern.
Rick raised his bandaged hand to his face, pressing his fingers into his tired eyes and raised himself up slightly. After a moment of groaning, he began to stifle a laugh as if the entire thing was just a showcase for amusement.
"What's so funny?" I questioned.
He shot his head up to meet mine, having not realised I was in the room as well. I watched him intensely as my eyes narrowed towards him; he knew he had a lot to answer for and a lot of those answers I would not be pleased to hear.
"Have you been here the whole time?" He asked.
"Of course I have." I leant forward and rested my elbows on my knees. "All night. Needed to make sure you'd be safe after what happened." I explained, naturally finding my gaze begin to soften on him. "What was so funny?"
"It's- it's like the train car-" He took a look to Shane, before returning to me. "After the whole thing, I'm still there."
"You feel trapped." I surmised, watching him intensely as I psycho analysed him the way he always hated. "You feel you're bein' penned into a corner- a dangerous corner, with threats everywhere you look. Nobody willing to do anything about it. Nobody except you—"
"Stop." He sighed, so I did.
I leant back in the chair I had been sat in all night. "Deanna wanted you in here to calm things down. I patched you up. Carl an Charlie came by for a while, then I sent them back to the house." He began to avoid my gaze again, causing me to stand up abruptly and drag my chair across the floor...
"Shit, bud." Shane murmured.
"Rick," I said plainly, slamming the legs of the chair down and placing myself right in front of him. He looked up to me with alerting eyes, "what're you doing?"
"I don't know- it- it moved fast. When I saw him touch you, towerin' over you, I tried not to lose it but I did." He expressed, and I understood. He looked regretful towards me, drawing his knees into his chest and resting his arms over them. "I couldn't tell you about the gun."
"You couldn't?"
"Oh- you wanted this place—"
"An we're really gonna talk as if that gun isn't plural?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"That you're sorry to your wife for lying to her!" I practically shouted, pushing up from the chair and looking down to him with pained eyes, silencing him. "I don't care that you did it- I get that you did. I get why you did. I just don't get why you kept it from me."
