Alyssa Chávez has felt alone for most of her life. She was never good at making friends. She always felt a distance between her and her family. So when the apocalypse happened, her social life didn't take much of a hit. After losing her family, Alys...
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Chapter Six Confusion
Alyssa walked down the prison halls with Patrick. She needed some social advice and he seemed like the most reasonable option. Carl had been acting strange around her. He avoided her for the most part and when she did talk to him, he gave her short answers and excused himself. She couldn't understand why. They were supposed to be friends. She'd been going over their conversations, trying to figure out what she said that could've annoyed him.
"I just don't get it," Alyssa sighed. "I mean, did I miss a social cue or something?"
Patrick frowned. "Why would you have missed a social cue?"
"I'm on the spectrum, keep up." Alyssa rolled her eyes.
"You're autistic?" Patrick asked, a little confused. He was carrying a football on their way outside.
"Yeah." Alyssa shrugged. "Diagnosed when I was 6. I've never tried to hide it, but that's not the point. The point is Carl's mad at me and I don't know why."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Patrick explained. "I know what's bothering him, but he asked me not to tell you."
Alyssa paused and turned halfway to face him. "So I'm just supposed to ignore this?"
"Pretty much." Patrick shrugged, switching the football from one arm to the other. "Carl will come to his senses eventually...I think."
"Really? Carl's as stubborn as a rock," Alyssa argued as they started walking down the stairs.
"Fair point," Patrick agreed. "I'll ask him to talk to you later and if he won't, I'll tell you."
"Fine," Alyssa begrudgingly agreed. She paused near the prison door to the yard after getting an odd feeling in her lower stomach. "You know what, I'm gonna head to the bathroom first. Be right back."
"Sure," Patrick nodded.
Alyssa walked down to the nearest bathroom and locked herself in a stall. She was utterly horrified to find a bloodstain in her denim shorts. Her brain could only come up with one logical solution: she would die very soon. The stomach pain combined with a sore back and blood must mean a terminal illness.
Who could she trust with this information? Who would be able to help her with this? Hershel was a vet, he probably wouldn't know much about terminal illnesses in humans. There was another doctor, but she didn't know him at all. Then there was Glenn, but she doubted he had any clue how to deal with that. The only somewhat reasonable option seemed to be Maggie. She was smart. Not doctor smart, but smart.
Alyssa tied her flannel around her waist to conceal the stain as she tried to find Maggie. She passed Patrick and simply just told him sports were canceled. She found Maggie in her with Glenn and managed to speak to her alone.
"Maggie, I need help, I think I'm dying," she whispered.
Maggie's eyes widened. "Were you bitten?" she asked, placing her hands on Alyssa's shoulders and trying to look for any marks.
