Rick Grimes Meth addiction

meth

Rick Grimes' group sits in a circle around a make-shift fire they'd created for the night. Things were peaceful for now but he knew they'd have to move on tomorrow. They'd always have to move on. He stared into the flames and thought about his wife. The prison had been the best thing for everyone and now it was gone like everything else. He almost felt a tear fall down his face so he swiped at his eyes and stood.

"I'm gonna go take watch over there." He said, turning before anyone could reply.

"On yer own?" Daryl replied, standing with his crossbow, but Rick held his hands out.

"Yeah. On my own." 

Daryl stayed standing for a moment before he reluctantly sat once again, taking a bowl of rabbit stew as it was passed to him. Everyone else seemed too tired to notice. 

He walked for a while, ending up, admittedly, further than he anticipated going, but he was so empty. He hadn't had sex in who knows how long and it was becoming a problem. The other day he saw a walker that looked like his wife, and he almost felt his penis rise a little. He didn't know how long he could go on like this - and he couldn't tell anyone either. What would Carl think if his dad didn't know how to keep his sexual arousal under control? He couldn't bring him up like that, teach him about the Male body if he couldn't even understand his own. Then - bang!! 

He'd been so zoned out thinking about sex that he walked right into a metal fence. He looked up, and beyond the fence was a hut, more like a shack. It was slightly falling apart but it still looked searchable, could have some food or supplies that they need. He decided to go in, checking around the perimeter first for any trouble, and then bursting through the door. He searched the whole place first for walkers but nothing. It seemed mostly untouched in fact, so he started searching for other things. He found a few cans that he bagged in the kitchen and some paracetamol. But then, as he tore a piece of wood away from a hole in the wall out of curiosity, his torch shone over something crystal like, bagged up. Rick Grimes wasn't stupid, he'd learnt enough about it in Sheriff School to realise that this was the big M. The crystal. The glass. Crystal Meth right before his eyes. 

His mind briefly thought back to Daryl's brother, how he had been while on the stuff, angry and crazy starting fights and shouting, but then he also thought about how little he cared. That was exactly what Rick needed right now. To stop caring. He grabbed the bag and took it to the couch, and then put it in front of him and just stared at it. He must've been there for an hour just staring at this meth before he finally decided to just do it. What did he have to lose? 

He grabbed a chunk of crystal from the bag and crushed it up. He didn't know entirely how this was done but as long as it gave him what he wanted it didn't matter. He leaned down, taking a breath, before he finally sniffed a whole pile of crushed Meth. It felt like a burst at first, burning his nose and the adrenaline of doing something like this making him excited until finally, eventually, it properly hit him.

Back at the camp Daryl couldn't sleep. Had no one really noticed that Rick had been gone so long? He looked down at everyone sleeping but noticed that Carl was up keeping watch so he slipped away into the trees. He tracked Rick's footsteps all the way to the shack. 

He pushed the door open and carefully walked in, crossbow held up ready should any unwanted danger come out from the dark. He walked through each room Rick had been into following his steps in the dust, before they finally led to the back door. He slowly pushed it open, not knowing how he was feeling. He just knew if anything had happened to Rick it would kill him faster than any walker could. He walked into the wet grass behind the shack and heard the familiar moaning. He turned the corner to kill the thing when he saw something else.