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chapter seventy-six | the come hell or high water
HER HAZEL EYES watched the flames flick around the rabbit she killed a bit ago. The fire darkens the raw meat Laurel had just prepared for her siblings. Her hands that rested in her lap were still red and sticky from the blood of the poor animal.
She wonders if she's a bad person.
This isn't the first time her delicate hands were covered in blood. Of animals, walkers, humans.
She's killed people.
She feels rotten. A type of rotting that starts from the inside and then works its way outwards. Do her siblings notice that she hasn't spoken in hours? That she doesn't look the same? That she has turned into a killer?
Is it scary to watch your loved one turn into a monster for the sake of their family's survival?
Red.
It's all she sees. All she thinks about. All that the dreams.
The red that covers her, them, the wooden floor, the walls, the grass, everything. It haunts her. No matter how many times she tries to push it out of her mind, her memory; the thoughts, the touch, the feel, the smell, everything is still so alive and it kills her inside.
For the others, it's history now. But for Laurel, it all comes back so clearly like she was still there. Sometimes she watches herself, like she's floating above the scene of the crimes. Sometimes she doesn't realize what's real or what isn't. Where is she?
Her eyes flicker around her. Her siblings now devour the cooked food. Her eyes glance down, there was a bit of meat on a large leaf for her. She swallows, her throat scratchy and uncomfortable as does so. She uses her empty hand to pick up a few pieces before opening her mouth and eating.
➸
A few hours later, a fog rolled in as her siblings fell asleep and she was keeping watch. The fog was dense, she wasn't able to see five feet in front of her even if the fire was still going. She had kicked away the fire Ethan started, not wanting the light to attract walkers. Even if it was cold. Her eyelids were heavy, her entire body too but she kept herself awake, forcing herself to focus on the enemy that could stumble upon them at any moment. The cold helped.
Animals scurried around them, making her eyes search into nothingness in worry the noises weren't just animals. She sat with her back against a tree, her siblings beside her, sleeping. Her fingers curled around the handle of her knife tightly. Her white knuckles were evident in the dark.
