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GREY KINGSTON
i stand with my back against the wall as daryl stands against the front door. we're watching rick as he checks the chambers of each of his guns and cleans his hatchet in a very aggressive manner.
i look over at daryl from across the room with a confused expression on my face; his matches mine.
daryl clears his throat, "you guys can stay in this one tonight. i'm takin' next door."
"you sure? i'm sure there's more than one bed upstairs." i say to him with pleading eyes to not leave me alone with rick while he's in this mood of whatever the fuck is wrong now.
"that house has a king-sized bed." daryl shrugs.
rick tosses one of his guns onto the sofa, "well, all right then." he nods, brushing his left hand over his thigh. i've noticed that's a habit he does a lot. "we'll fill the car with any supply we find in here in the mornin' and find some gas before headin' back to the others."
"just yell if you need me." daryl says, opening the front door.
"you too!" i call out. he gives me a nod and then closes the door, leaving rick and i standing alone together.
i sigh, walking over and taking a seat on the sofa, "wish we could watch tv or somethin'."
"yeah, wouldn't that be nice." rick says just above a whisper, moving his weapons off the sofa and taking a seat next to me.
"you think we'll be able to find gas tomorrow?" i ask, looking over the map of the area they drew up a few minutes ago.
he's staring ahead at the wall.
"rick."
"hm?" he quickly looks at me, eyebrows furrowed.
"you okay?"
"mhm." he mumbles, nodding his head.
i almost get the feeling that he wants to be alone—that something is bothering him, making him go quiet like this.
"what is it?" i ask softly.
"back at that house." he whispers.
"you know you did what you had to do. killing all those men—"
"it's not that." he shakes his head. the low hoarseness of his voice is always in each word he speaks, and for some reason it's become one of my favorite sounds.
"i don't think you should come on runs with us anymore after this." he's looking down at his hands clasped together as his elbows rest on his knees.
"what, why?" i raise my voice slightly.
"i should've been upstairs with you. killed him before he could've laid a finger on you."
"he didn't touch me—"
"your shirt was ripped open in the front." he snaps at me. "you have bruises on your neck from him strangling you."
"yeah, but that's it. only my shirt was ripped and i'm still alive. things could be much worse than that."
"this shouldn't have happened to you. i'm never gonna let it happen again or i swear to god i'll—" he shuts himself up.
"is this how glenn felt?" i ask. "after what happened to maggie with the governor? she told me about it. said glenn was mad over it for days."
he glances away from me which makes me think i got it right.
i watch as he takes a deep breath, collecting himself, "i should've been more careful. kept you by my side like i said i would or maybe just not have gone into that house at all." his voice is calmer now.
"i thought you guys were dead downstairs when i heard all those gunshots." i change the subject onto him. "that's why i was scared and i think he noticed. he thought i was only with you and daryl because i—" i search for the right words, but i struggle to find them.
"because you what?"
"he asked me which one of you was screwin' me every night." i scoff. "like that determined why i was scared, scared of y'all bein' dead. it made me mad. i wanted to show him i'm just as strong as you guys. that i'm not taggin' along with you two as the girl who can't defend herself. i was actually happy he tried to kill me. after he ripped open my shirt i thought he'd do somethin' else, somethin' worse than killing me."
i see rick's jaw clench through the candlelights we lit around the downstairs of the house.
he runs his hands through his curls, leaning back into the sofa as he remains quiet.
i stand up from where i'm sitting, "i'm gonna go find a bed—"
"wait." he stops me, his blue eyes practically pleading up at me for something. "i'm really sorry." he starts to talk so i sit back down next to him.
i furrow my eyebrows, confused over what he could possibly be sorry for.
"you know i'm not a kid anymore. i can protect myself, i can deal with what happened."
"i know." he nods his head. "trust me, i know, it's just ... i haven't been able to stop thinkin' about what happened two days ago, that's why i'm sorry."
i imagine he's reliving the moment we had together in my cell in his mind right now, that's what i'm doing at least.
"i feel like an asshole. walkin' around back home with everyone thinkin' i'm coming up with a plan to get us out of there. meanwhile, i've just been thinking of you. if that son of a bitch opened the door instead of you tonight ... if you were dead on that bed instead of him—"
"i'm okay, rick." i say softly, pulling my knees up to my chest.
"but seein' you," he closes his eyes for a second before glancing around the room. "seein' you like that ... if one thing went any other way you could've been dead. i told you some things two days ago, but now i—" he laughs to himself. "i feel like i'm going crazy."
"what, did kissing me make you hate yourself this much?" i crack a smile.
"no." he readjusts his position, instinctively placing his hand on top of my knee, but he quickly pulls it away. "you know how sometimes people don't know how much they care for someone 'till that person is almost gone?"
i nod my head, "trust me, i know."
"i'm sayin'," his head is titled slightly downward as he stares at me with his eyes, the shade of blue appearing a lot darker in nothing but the candlelight. "you know what i'm sayin'."
i grab his restless hand with my own, covering his cracked knuckles with my palm.
