𝘐𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 // 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯

ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋ

Looking down at my shaky hands, the breeze swirls my hair around, whipping me in the face. My fingers are dyed red, my cuticles sticky. My hands are not the only thing left red, my face is too.

It feels as if there's a pound of makeup on my face or as if someone put face paint on me. It feels heavy, like it's weighing me down.

Michonne and Carl sit by a fire, talking and laughing. Daryl and Rick left to find breakfast. And I'm sitting in the forest, my knees tucked up to my chest. Rick tried talking to me before leaving but I couldn't speak.

He even left me a rag to wash my face but I haven't touched it, I haven't moved in an hour. My eyes stay glued on the tree ahead, studying the pattern engraved in the roots. The trees still sway around me, echoing a quiet hum.

Though I'm motionless, my heart races rapidly, the tips of my ears glowing red. I wish I could say I regret what happened last night, but I don't.

And I think that's what's messing me up the most, knowing what I should be feeling but not being able to. It's driving me crazy.

Soon enough, over thinking swallows me whole. It's as if my mind departs from my body. And it feels like I'm dead without actually being dead. I might as well be a walker.

It feels like things only get worse, like everything stays the same and just when I think things are getting better, the world punches me in the face.

"Scarlet?" Michonne's recognizable voice wakes me from my thoughts. She stands near the tree I was zoning out on, a hand on her hip the other leaning on the harsh bark. She looks tired, more tired than she did at the prison.

I nod, earning a sigh from Michonne. "You should eat." She mumbles, taking a step closer.

I just stare, my throat burning. She speaks again, "Daryl and Rick got back a bit ago, you want to come say hi?"

Looking away, I stare at my hands again. I'm still bloody. Michonne sighs again, sending me a short smile before walking away. But before she can I call out, "Michonne?" 

Whipping her head around, she has her eyebrows raised, nodding her head once. "Ava is dead."

It comes out quickly like a secret I shouldn't have shared. And her body language changes. Her shoulders slump, her head hanging a little lower. A single tear falls from her right eye but she's quick to wipe it away. We both stare at each other, motionless and silent. 

A tear runs down my face as well, a second one coming quickly. Michonne mutters something but I don't hear it, guilts too loud. Seconds pass and we're still staring at each other like deer in head lights. It's as if we're both waiting for the "just kidding" or for her to appear, her loving face constantly hanging in the back of my mind. 

"Come, eat something." She suggests, a half smile forming but it doesn't reach her eyes, it doesn't even look like her. 

I stand up slowly, my legs wobbly as I take steps towards the smell of fire. Watching Michonne take slow steps in front of me, I realize how much I needed her. I needed a friend like Michonne my whole life. Sure Glenn is an amazing friend, but he's a guy. And Glenn and I's relationship has moved past friendship. I'd like to think that's the same for Michonne and I. She makes me stronger. 

As my boots finally connect with solid pavement, I watch as all three of the boys heads flick toward me, all wearing different expressions. Firstly, Rick looks disappointed, not at me, but almost at himself. Like he's a dad and I'm the kid that forgot to study. But this disappointment runs deeper. It's so deeply ingrained in him, it's almost as if he'll forever have a scowl.