In The Bird Song | TWD

chapter 23 - No time to die

TW: graphic depictions of panic attacks and sensory overload

Carl pov

Beth is dead. A couple days ago a teenage boy Noah found us by chance, he claimed to know where Beth was taken and a couple members of our group went with him to rescue her. I don't know how Beth died I just know that she's gone and Maggie hasn't stopped sobbing since. I really wish she would shut up though because my head is killing me.

I feel nothing. Beth was good and kind and was the main person looking after Judith at the prison. I remember having a crush on her before I met Harlow and after those feelings faded she was a friend. I cared for her once and yet I feel no pain at her loss.

I should be grieving with the rest of the group; I should be heartbroken at the girls loss but I only feel the same emptiness I always feel. I'm not even sure I'm still alive at this point, sometimes I think I might have died alongside Harlow and my body simply didn't get the message. I'm confident that I could watch every single person I once viewed as family get brutally slaughtered and I wouldn't shed so much as a tear.

Is this how the walking dead feel? Nothing separates me from walkers anymore except the blood pumping through my veins. I need blood now; I have to see it to be reminded I'm still breathing. I need pain to fill the emptiness before it consumes me.

I take out my tiny knife that is always on my person these days and dig it into my already scarred skin. I methodically slice my arm like one would a cutting board until all I can see crimson. I feel the adrenaline pump through me almost as if its breathing life back into me. even though the feeling only lasts a couple minutes the brief respite from the emptiness is worth it.

***

Harlow pov

The first thing I register is that my head hurts like a bitch. when I open my eyes and my vision is flooded with blinding white light. "Am I dead?" I ask to nobody in particular not expecting an answer unless it's comes from God himself.

"No, you are very much still alive but only by pure luck" a mans voice answers. "Jesus Christ" I yell practically jumping out my skin in fright, I shoot up into a sitting position and look around frantically for the owner of the disembodied voice.

My memories rush back to me and panic sets in once my eyes land on a middle-aged man with thick glasses who is dressed in a military uniform. I reach for my gun holster only to find that its no longer there and only now do I realise I'm not even wearing my own cloths. I am dressed in thin scratchy pyjamas that are two sizes to big for me and are extremely uncomfortable. im not wearing a bra anymore and my raw arm is wrapped in thick bandages.

Anger and panic flair inside of me as I realise someone must have stripped and done god knows what to me whilst I was unconscious. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME YOU FUCKING PERVERT!" I shout and I cant stop the tears of anger and horror that run down my face. my skin itches like its to tight for my body and the bright lights and scratchy pyjama material all work together to push me into sensory overload.

No longer thinking straight I wrap my arms around my knees and begin rocking back and forth humming erratically as I do so. I feel sick and my humming is interrupted every couple seconds by periotic sobs. My own breathing is to loud in my ears so I hum louder to try drown out the sound. I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I possibly can to try block out the blinding white lights that are beaming down on me.

I hear the click of a pen and the scraping of a chair and the sounds feel like there crushing my head and cracking my skull. I scream and cover my ears with my hands as firmly as possible but I cant escape the sound of my own rapid heartbeat.