Dead love in my hands (Troy Otto story/ Fear the walking dead/ ftwd)

I need you

When the elder Otto was buried, Jake took command. The gates at the ranch were opened to let Walker's men in.

The weather matched the general mood. Gray clouds thickened over the ranch. Toward noon it began to rain. It poured right down on Troy and me as we stood at Jeremiah's grave. I was sorry for the way things had turned out. Fr. Otto had been kind to me. Some of the man's motives I understood well. Some I didn't. But it didn't matter now. I had only one goal: to save his youngest son, who was now in my arms.

"How are you?"

"I wanna dig him up. I wanna dig him up and kill him again. What he left us with."

"He left us with what's best." 

"Really?! You think this is the best?"

"He saved people,"  I shrugged my shoulders "He was a hero."

"He was a drunk."

"But he did a strong thing."

"How could he? Just cowardly kill himself? How could he?! He left us to trash this pile of shit!"

"Troy, he did it to save the ranch. You know that, you're just mad," I brushed a damp strand of hair off my forehead.

"I had to look for another way out. And now he's just abandoned us!"

I clenched my hands tighter. Troy threw his head back and looked up at the sky. Droplets pounded on his face. Each one hit his cheek at breakneck speed, then rolled down, falling onto his shoulder and soaking into his military uniform.

"Let's go inside, I'm tired."

As soon as we entered the room, Troy immediately began undressing me. Such an abrupt change in mood stressed me out.

"Wait, what's wrong with you?" I pushed him away.

"I need to de-stress, come here!" he sat down on the bed.

"Troy, are you sure this is what you need right now? Why don't we talk?"

"We'll talk after, I want to de-stress," he plopped me down on the bed and started unbuckling my belt.

The sex was rough. It was over very quickly. Troy was rude and didn't even kiss me once. I felt worse than ever.

"I gotta go," he started to get dressed as soon as his breathing evened out.

"Wait, where are you going?!"

I remembered what he'd said to me in LA about how he used to always want to run away after sex. It just made me feel even crappier.

"Gotta go train with the new militia."

"Troy, talk to me."

It was like he didn't hear me. Putting on his trousers, Troy started to throw on a shirt and was about to leave the room, but he was stopped by my words:

"I want to talk now, I need you now!"

He turned around. After standing in the doorway for a couple seconds, he walked back into the room, slammed the door shut, and sat back down on the bed with his back to me.

"You have no idea how shitty I feel. My dad shot himself because of those bastards that walk around here like it's their home. I want to kill them all. I fight that urge every second."

"Yeah, you're right, I have no idea... Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"You've already helped. You're with me. I really appreciate that."

"Is that why you run off right after sex like I'm a stranger to you?" I was being sarcastic.

He looked at me.