Who We Are | TWD

.058

    I wake up, feeling exhausted. Most of what I've been doing for the past few days is stressing, even after the others returned from the mission. I feel like I have enough stress to share with everyone. The best part is that my brain always manages to make more when I run out.

    Even though I managed to sleep last night, I didn't really sleep. Sure, my eyes must've closed and my breathing slowed for a little while, but I don't feel well rested at all. The thought itself makes me want to pull the covers back over my head and try to get an hour or two more, but I know it's a waste of time. I might as well just get up now instead of spending my time on a useless cause.

    I pull on some sweatpants and leave my room. As I walk by Carl's room, there's nothing but silence. He's much better at dealing with his worry, or at least at hiding it. I envy the skill, wondering if I'll ever be as good. I find it doubtful.

    For the last few days, I had been pacing around the house or laying sprawled across my bed and staring at the ceiling. The others had left early in the morning two days ago. Rick had said that their plan would take place at night, but when we didn't have any communication with them, we didn't know if things had gone as planned. They did eventually return home in the late afternoon of yesterday, mostly unscathed. It was such a relief.

    I hear clattering in the kitchen and wind down the stairwell to see Rick in the kitchen trying to cook breakfast. "Good morning," he says in my direction, but most of his attention on the package or dry pancake mix in his hand. I watch as he tries to measure out the mix with a measuring cup, but he's not very good at it and some crumbs of powder get sprinkled onto the countertop. "Hilltop stocked our shelves for holding up our end of the deal. I think Carol will be making some stew tonight."

    "Sounds good," I say. I look outside the windows, noticing it's a nice day. The sight makes me long to go outside, preferably past the walls. I had felt doubt in ever going out again the other day, but now, it seems like a comforting idea. I don't suggest the thought to Rick because it'll be easier to slip away if I don't.

    Rick somehow manages to make the pancakes successfully, only two of them turning out burnt. We eat together since Michonne and Daryl have already left the house, and Carl and Judith are still asleep. I tell him about how I got some textbooks to catch up on my schooling. He even asks me if I could teach him some Spanish. He seems proud of that. I know my dad is gone, but it's nice to have someone like him that still wants to support me.

    After breakfast and helping Rick clean up, I go upstairs to change my clothes. I pull on a pair of jeans, a grey tank top, a brown, plaid flannel, and my belt with my knife. I lace up my boots before brushing my teeth. After being a little more put together, I leave the house in search of something to do.

    The morning sun feels warm, but the cold breeze stings my hands. I hold them under my flannel sleeves to keep them warm as I walk along the shaded sidewalks. A few people mill around in the mornings, but the streets are usually mostly empty, just like they are today. That is until I find Rosita crossing the road ahead of me.

    I jog to catch up with her, only having seen her briefly yesterday to give her a hug when she came back. Otherwise, her presence has been lacking in my life. "Rosita!" I call as soon as I'm behind her. She turns to look at me with a smile.

    "Hey!" she says, pushing her baby hairs aside with her hand. "Whatcha doin'?"

    I shrug. "I don't know, actually. Just walking around."

    "Well, do you wanna walk with me?"

    "Sure," I reply. "What are you doing today?"

    "I told Denise I'd give her some more weapon training today. If you want, you can join us. You did fine last time you helped me."