𝘐𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 // 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯

ɪɴᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ

Dear Glenn,

It's been three days since we lost the prison. Three days since the last time I saw you, Maggie, Carl. I don't know if you're safe or even alive. I am. But I don't know how much longer I can do this for.

I lost track of where I'm headed, I guess it got hard to realize how far away I am from Ava and even Hershel.

I really hope you didn't see what happened to Hershel, I know you two were close. He was always so kind to us, he kind of reminded me of that old man who lived in your building. I think his name was Fred? Maybe I'm mixed up. It's been like that for a while now.

It's like my mind is playing games on me, or maybe that's from being alone. 

I feel nothing and I don't really plan on changing that. Everything I do is out of necessity, breathing included. I found my way out of the forest and finally onto a road. I've been following it for a day now but I don't see any signs of you. I really hope you're okay.

But for now I'm signing off and if you don't hear from me in a while, I love you brother.

By the time I'm done etching my note into my brain, it's sore, more sore than my bruised body even. The pain has gone down little by little each day but it's pointless when I'm constantly on the run. Without a chance to settle down, the constant stress is killing me.

My ribs aren't as bruised now. I can actually breathe without them burning. I don't know if I like that yet.

Following the side of the road, I stare down at my black boots. The last time I really examined them was back before the prison. When Daryl and I were alone. I wish I was with him right now.

But another part of me knows that this is for the best. That maybe if I really am the only person left, at least I'm the only person going through this. I just hope Daryl didn't die alone. I know how much time he spent alone as a child, no one there looking out for him.

Shit I looked out for him. I cared about him so fucking much and look what happened.

I shake my head along with the thoughts of Daryl as I fall upon a new road. It etches towards train tracks, a tower not far off.

I look back and forth. Do I continue down the road I've been going on or do I start a new path. Shit I'm too tired for this type of decision.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, in a split second decision I head towards the tower. Who knows, maybe I could sleep in there.

The tower is dark, obviously rusted. Against the fall colored leaves the once metal almost looks black. Slowly walking towards it, my feet ache, wishing for a break.

"Please be safe." I whisper to no one.

The metal creeks as I step closer, the dilapidated metal close to breaking. I don't even need to examine it for long to realize there's no way I can sleep here. Dead walkers line both the outside and the inside, their guts spread out around them.

An exhausted and angry sigh escapes my lips, my eyes growing heavy. But they snap open quickly, the sight of something red etched onto a metal power box catches my attention.

Jogging over, my hands play with the ends of my sleeves.

"Maggie I'm going to Terminus" is written in blood. The sloppy writing and message is clearly Glenn. Glenn's still alive.

The thought makes a sob escape my lips, happy tears flinging down my face. He's alive. And he's going to... Terminus?

Feeling the blood with my fingers, small blotches stain them. This is fresh, he can't be far, maybe thirty minutes away.

My heart jumps, beating rapidly. This is the first sign of life I've had in days. But this could also be a dead end. By the time I get to "terminus" he could be dead.

Thoughts of what to do work through my head quickly. So quickly I get dizzy and suddenly I'm on the ground with my head in my hands and a pounding in my stomach that feels like little needles stabbing me.

Letting out an exhausted groan, I rock back and forth on the ground. I know there's a walker behind me, close too, but I don't make a move to stand up. I stay in place, my eyes pinched shut and my head buried.

"Scarlet?"

——

As a kid I wanted to be a doctor. I found it fascinating how one single person could make the final decision on someone's life. That with a blink of an eye, a doctor could make the life changing or even ending decision based on what they think is best.

I think I liked the control they had over society. You never saw a doctor living in an apartment or bad neighborhood. Almost all of them drove cars, most likely brand new. And they all seemed like they had control over not only the people around them but themselves as well.

Growing up with an alcoholic and abuser, the littlest thought of control is like giving an addict coke. You give them a little and they want more. Sure they might act confused in the beginning, unsure of what to do, but they take it anyway. Because the sad part is, control is what all of us really wanted.

To be able to make our own decisions, be our own doctors. Even if those decisions were bad.

I don't think I've made one decision for myself since the day I stepped foot on this world. Even as a child, only eight, I never had a chance to think of myself. I was too busy bandaging my mom up. Then as a teen it became my mom bandaging me up.

It's sort of funny. How people hate something or someone so much but we don't do anything to change it. Or no matter how much we try, it's just never good enough.

I guess I would have thought that the world ending would have made me more self oriented. That I could finally focus on my own survival. Man was I wrong.

"Scarlet?" His familiar voice sends a shiver down my aching back. A feeling I don't wish to feel anymore makes it's way up the back of my throat, forming goosebumps on my pale arms.

Daryl is one of those things that no matter how much I try to change, it seems like I get nowhere. Like we're stuck in a constant loop of hating each other mixed with little moments of love. But who really knows if it's love. It's not like he's shown me anything to prove that word is able to describe us.

I stay crouched on the ground. The grass beneath me is damp, coating my jeans. The once light material is now almost brown, rips all along the side allow the healing gashes to be viewable.

I hate this. I hate that whenever I need Daryl he's not there but when I'm dying he seems to appear. It makes me seem weak and that's the last thing I want Daryl to think of me as. Especially when that's all any man has ever thought of me as.

"Scarlet?" He roughly asks again but he's closer now, so close I jump. The action causes another wave of pain to run up my back, a harsh breath escaping my lips. I can hear his breath go jagged as well, his breath fanning the top of my head. I wish I could stay angry at him. Maybe it's just because I'm hurt, but the fact that he's alive and here, the fact that I can hear him, feel him even, it warms my cold body.

I try to speak but a large gasp chokes out instead causing Daryl to dive into action. Within milliseconds he's next to me, a large hand placed on my back, the other supporting my waist as he pushes me off the ground. 

Shushing me, he keeps his eyes everywhere but my face, scanning every inch of my body. He might not be looking at me but I sure am looking at him. I don't miss the way his forehead crinkles and his jaw shuts tight at the sight of my bruised body.

"Scarlet?" This time we both make eye contact and it's my turn to visibly sour at the sight of his bruised face. A black eye rests upon his left side, a cut lying over his eyebrow. I wish I could say I look better but I don't need a mirror to know I don't.

"Mmm?" I mumble, a dry cough comes out. Along with it is a metallic taste, dripping off my tongue and onto my chin. Daryl reaches out a hand, whipping it away quickly.

"You're not" he shakes his head, "You're not okay."