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stats: 2 weeks later DARYL DIXON
my head turns at the sound of footsteps against the dark wood. it's early morning, the sun has just barely come up, but i've been up for hours. everyone is asleep upstairs as i sit on the bench in front the window—everyone, except grey.
"you headin' out?" i ask her.
"you couldn't sleep?"
"thinkin' about carol." i mumble. "why do you think she decided to stay at hilltop? all she told me was she was happy to see me, but she wanted to stay there to feel like she was doing somethin'. i don't know what she could do there that she couldn't do here."
"maybe she wants to help the new people. you know, the family with the young kids and ezekiel, henry, benjamin—"
"a family, a grown man, a teenager, and a guy your age ... what could they need help with?"
her shoulders shrug, "we all need help these days, don't we?"
i mutter a response as i flick the laces of my boots.
"you'd come to me, right?" she asks. "if you needed help."
her brown eyes penetrate mine, a small slant to her dark eyebrows as she adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder. i know she's looking at the dark circles under my eyes. she can tell that i'm tired, that i've been crying.
i turn to the side and dig my hand into the sack of red apples sitting beside me on the bench, "here, take one out there with you."
"thanks." she accepts it. "i'll see you later."
"mm-hm." i nod my head, watching as she heads to the front door. the bright sun lands on the floor for a second, warming the rich, espresso oak. grey pulls the door shut behind her, the latches snapping back into place and the sun leaves with her.
i lean my head back, rolling the tight muscles of my neck and shoulders. i let out a huff as i grab the sack of apples i took from the pantry this morning and head towards the back door, letting it slam a little too loudly as i step outside.
"idiot." i mutter to myself feeling the cold air hit my skin at the same time regret settles in my stomach.
=
GREY KINGSTON
i hike out to the field by myself with nothing but my knife, a canteen of water, and a bag holding the red apple daryl gave me.
the old, rusted car awaits me in the middle of the field, my designated seat to kill walkers from a distance at.
without my sniper though, i'm using the car as a spot to clear my mind and listen to the wind blow through the grass.
