Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 007 ] a ghost in marble of a girl

007: a ghost in marble of a girl

Joey woke up with a migraine. She hadn't drank enough water this past week, and she knew that ━ she underestimated the importance of water until she didn't have it anymore. There was only a bit left in her canteen that she had melted from the snow. Her throat was dry when she woke up as well, so she downed a hefty sip of water and looked over to see Finn already layering his clothes back on. The bags under his eyes were more visible in the morning sun.

"Didn't want to wake you up," his voice teetered on a whisper, as if if he spoke too loud she would crumble. Joey, still half asleep, stretched her hands over her head and itched at her eyes. "I figured I would eat breakfast and uh . . . make my way out," he watched her hand intently as it came up from beneath the pillow, holding her knife. Joey hadn't even realized, and looked down at it when she noticed Finn's discomfort.

"You uh . . . you don't need to leave, you know. You can stay with me ━ us. If you want," she motioned toward an unconscious Bill, whose breath was still labored and his chest still heavy. Joey rested her eyes on him for a prolonged amount of time before turning back to a hesitant Finn. She stuffed her knife back into her pocket. "I give you permission to kill me if you need to," she joked, which only slightly went over his head, and he adjusted the straps of his backpack.

"Neither of us should have to be alone," Joey muttered, feeling awkward and shoving her hands in her pocket. She would be the last person to trust someone she just met the day before, but it felt obligatory. She could handle things if they went downhill. Part of her just didn't want to be alone. Bill was still breathing, but if he went, she might as well go too. Having someone else around might give her a reason to hang around longer ━ not to mention, if anything happened to him when he left, she couldn't forgive herself. Plus, the cold was still bitter.

"Yeah . . . okay," he breathed, knuckles turning white as he continued to grip his backpack. Joey noticed, and backed away gently. Maybe she was being too forward.

"Uhm . . . I don't have much food left. A few MRE's . . . I would've gotten an elk yesterday if those fucking rotters didn't eat it," she groaned, quickly remembering about Bill. When she took the penicillin out of her bag, there was only enough to ration out a half dose for the next two days. "Shit," she muttered, chewing at her lip. Finn looked over her shoulder as she injected the needle halfway and pressed it into the man's body. Again, he shriveled up and nearly shrank away. The skin's redness and puffiness had reduced slightly overnight, but it was still sensitive to touch. Joey tried to keep the area clean until she could remove the stitches, but the rubbing alcohol was almost empty as well. Bill hardly even moved, besides his eyebrows, when she stuck the needle in, but when she placed the alcohol soaked cloth atop it, he nearly hit her in the face.

"Fucking shit, asshole, that's the most you've moved in weeks," Joey spit, earning a hearty chuckle from Finn which was quickly diffused when she turned around to look at him up and down.

"We might be taking a trip into town today," she sighed, resting back on her heels. Finn itched the back of his head. "That's uh . . . that's a bit of ways away," he sat down on one of the chairs, eyeing Bill as he settled back onto the couch.

"Yeah well . . . we're running out of medicine and food. This cat isn't moving any time either," she nodded her head towards Bill, whose breath was ragged and coming out in white clouds. The fire was nearly dead. Finn chewed at his lip, and messed with the hat on his head, taking it off, rustling his hair, and putting it back on. "I think we can manage it. The snow has cleared up, anyways," he smiled, and Joey took a moment to return the favor, before grabbing her clothes off the couch. "Would you mind putting some more wood on the fire?" she nodded toward the fireplace while she stuffed her hair into a braid and pulled her hood up. She thought back to the night before when a rotter took her hat, and it put a bad taste in her mouth. Now her ears would be cold.