Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 031 ] the blue holds

031: the blue holds

It rained on the way home, and Joey stared out the window with impending curiosity, watching the water accumulate in puddles and the tires splash the rotters as they drove by. The cans and food were rattling on the seats and Joey tried not to look at them, because she was so hungry, she couldn't tell whether it was her stomach growling or the rotters outside. The ride home felt agonizingly longer than the ride there, and her boots were still covered in mud from when they had to push the trailer out of the rut it was in. She kept thinking about the way the people at Hilltop looked at her when she killed the man. Her hands still shook slightly and her jaw started to swell. Bill told her to go to Denise when they got back to get ice and to see if anything was broken. She didn't think the woman punched her hard enough for that. Joey was starting to wish she had killed her, too.

The gates opened for them when they arrived back at Alexandria. Most of the ride home, they were silent. They were all juggling the idea of infiltrating Negan's camp and killing them. Joey knew Bill wasn't for it—she couldn't really make a judgment of how Finn felt. He was exponentially harder to read. Joey had leaned her head on his shoulder about twenty minutes from home and tried to fall asleep, but she couldn't. She kept waking up when she thought too much about the blood on her hands and the way she so easily slit the man's throat. Rick seemed to have made his decision already, and Joey wasn't sure if Bill was going to be able to shake that.

"I think you should go to the infirmary." Bill placed a hand on her arm and helped her out of the trailer. Joey moved her jaw a bit and shook her head. "No. I want to go to the meeting." Rick had told all of them to meet at the church within an hour.

"You should rest. You had a long day. Besides—I don't think you should be there for that."

Joey didn't really understand what he was saying but did not want to argue. She was growing increasingly tired—but she also wanted to voice her own opinion. But, Bill was right. She shouldn't be there for that. They wouldn't listen to her, anyways. "Right." She sighed, rubbing her opposite arm. Joey awkwardly looked around before making her way to the infirmary. Her hands were still shaking slightly and her headphones were draped around her neck. Part of her wanted to strangle herself with the cord.

She was about to knock on the door when she realized how stupid she was being. She wasn't technically entering someone's house. So she just pushed open the door, to see Denise sitting on the floor shuffling through some books. Joey couldn't understand what she could possibly be reading, but then she remembered she was a doctor, and shook the thought out of her head.

"Hey Joey. Is everything okay?" Denise asked, standing up and breaking Joey out of her daydream. "Oh uh—got into a bit of trouble at Hilltop," she gestured to her jaw, which was slightly bruised, but not purple yet. "Got punched." She laughed, although it wasn't funny. It was more nervous laughter than anything. It also hurt slightly to talk. Denise lightly touched it and winced.

"Alright, uh—why don't you go sit down." Joey didn't think it was that strenuous. All she really needed was ice and some Advil. It wasn't bleeding and didn't need stitches. "I think I'm really fine. I just—need some ice or something."

Denise nodded her head while rifling through some of the medication in the cabinets. "I can't give you the whole bottle, since we're running low . . . but here. Take these." She poured a handful of the pills into a plastic bag, and then handed Joey two with a glass of water. Joey threw them back and took a swig of the water. "Feeling better already." She joked. Denise gave her a small smile and packed some ice in another bag, pressing it against Joey's jaw. Joey winced and took it in her hand. "Keep icing it on and off for the night, and tomorrow, just until the swelling goes down."