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[ season two, episode eight ]
The aftermath of Sophia's death was ── in one word that held the power to sum up a quite lot of thoughts and feelings and emotions depending on consideration ── quiet. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared breathe too close to Carol in fear she may shatter into a million pieces. Nobody made too much noise. Even during the short service held for their lost loved ones, it was quiet.
And as the day slowly progressed, things got worse. Much worse.
Marley was sitting at the dining table in the Greene's farmhouse. Much to her surprise, Maggie had asked Marley if she could braid her hair. She wasn't sure why, so the Whitman made an assumption that Maggie was doing it to pass time . . . give herself a moment to recollect her emotions and take a deep, steady breath of air to relieve the growing knot in her chest. Compose herself.
Either way, Marley didn't mind.
"You have beautiful hair." Maggie hummed.
A small smile grew over Marley's lips. Her scalp tingled when the woman raked a finger through her ash-blonde roots. "Thank you."
"No, seriously," Maggie added pointedly, arching an eyebrow. "How do you keep it so nice? Mine's like a bird nest."
Amusement twinkled in the Greene's caramel-tinged eyes. It was a relief. Her limbs had finally settled ── bones no longer rattling with fear and grief and horror all muddled into one. The events from earlier were not as prominent in her mind as they had been ten minutes ago. Braiding hair or knitting or crocheting ( doing something tedious with her hands ) always drew her attention away from the bad things and helped her focus on something else.
Marley huffed a short laugh, "Well, the weather make me sweat a lot, so . . . could be that. Might be, like, a new kind of weird conditioner."
"Gross!" Maggie snorted, a light chuckle rumbling in her chest. She quickly lowered her voice as if it was against the law to murmur the words, "Might try it. See if it works."
"You definitely should." Marley said sincerely.
There was a small clatter from the kitchen. Mistakenly, Beth had dropped a fork on the floor. However, she felt too weak and shaky to bend down and pick it up ── with the events of that afternoon weighing upon her body like a crushing weight; it was dizzying.
So Beth left it and continued washing up.
Maggie continued braiding Marley's hair, but she was notably more distracted by her sister's uncharacteristically odd behaviour. She wasn't acting like herself.
