Losing Hope *EDITING*

Chapter 19; Claire Curvel

I sat on the tile floor of the shower, the water pouring down onto my body. At least it covered my tears. I could feel every ounce of hope slowly leaving me. The graphic memories of what happened to Dale last night still in my head. It was like he was haunting me. I couldn't do anything to save him.

I feel like it's my fault. Maybe if I would have never shown up on this farm, then maybe things would be different. Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad seeing another person die by the hands of a walker. Maybe I wouldn't care so much. Maybe if I would have found Dale faster last night, he would still be alive. Maybe the walker would have got me instead and Dale could have got away safely. Maybe I wouldn't feel so damn guilty for a death that wasn't my fault.

I rested my knees on my chin, closing my eyes as water fell down my face. The house was empty except for myself. Everyone went to Dale's funeral. I wanted to, but I just couldn't. I can't handle another funeral. I couldn't even handle my best friends or my mothers. I just can't. I tilted my head upwards, letting the water wash away any sign that I've been crying. I stood up, washing my body off with soap before getting out and wrapping a towel around myself. I leaned over the sink and wiped my hand across the mirror to get rid of the fog since Hershel's house still had warm water. I stared blankly at the girl in the reflection. I didn't know this girl. She looked nothing like before. I looked nothing like myself.

The girl in the mirror looked miserable. Lost. Alone. Hopeless.

I dropped the towel, looking at my fragile body in the mirror. There were bruises here and there littering my skin. Scratches on my neck and face from rolling around with that walker last night. My hair hung lifelessly on my head. My lips were chapped and my face was flushed. My blue eyes that used to hold so much emotion didn't even look back at me with an ounce of joy. There was nothing to be happy about. I looked away, feeling disgusted in myself.

You don't get to do that Claire. You don't get to feel sorry for yourself. It isn't fair. You just have to shut up and deal with your pain quietly. No one else gets to be burdened with that.

I took a deep breathe, slipping on my underwear and bra. I pulled on the long sleeved white shirt Maggie gave me to change into under my flannel, my loose fitting jeans that I had on before I ever came to this farm -tightening a belt around them to keep them on my waist. I tugged on the socks Beth washed and the worn out combat boots Beth also let me have since I refuse to ever wear Maggie's boots from last night ever again. I tied my hair up into a ponytail and hooked the sheath with the knife Daryl gave me.

I was only aloud to have it; much to most of the groups disagreement, because Daryl swore up and down I could have gotten myself killed going after a walker with no weapon last night. Says I'm tough enough to try to take on a walker so I was tough enough to hold a weapon. Guess he's right,but I don't think I would have minded much if I got bit. Someone would shoot me eventually and then I could leave this fucked up world. Heaven knows I want to. I'd be able to see people like my best friend Kimmy again. People like my mother. Like Dale.

I sighed, grabbing my bloody clothes from last night off the floor and exiting the bathroom -tossing the clothes into the laundry basket and heading into the bedroom I had locked myself into. I could hear voices down stairs. Hershel must be moving Rick's group into the house. I turned into the room, stopping short at the stuff sitting on the floor.

"What is this?" I whispered to myself. I walked to the backpack, eyeing it suspiciously. I noticed the sleeping bag next to it -rolling my eyes slightly. I turned around as footsteps entered the bedroom behind me. I rolled my eyes at Daryl who walked in like he owned the place, tossing his stuff in the corner. "Glenn's shit is already in here. This room ain't big enough for 3," I protested.