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

Guilt?

We drove in silence for a while. The scenery hadn't changed much. San Diego was still outside the window, with its usual bright sunshine. The trip should have taken no more than five hours. In the rearview mirror, I saw Clara squinting at Troy. The expression on her face was incomprehensible to me: seemingly disgruntled, but at the same time interested. My sister was an unpredictable person. All her life she'd been throwing things out and even now she was still doing it. Spontaneous and flighty, but, to her credit, independent and determined. I wondered if she really wanted to find Michael, or if it was a neurotic impulse caused by the realisation that she was losing me by staying at the ranch.

Suddenly, Troy turned sharply toward her. Clara recoiled back in surprise. That made me smile.

"Why the hell are you drilling the back of my head?"

"I'm not drilling," my sister said confused.

"Yes, you are. I can feel your eyes on my back the whole way!"

"Who needs you!" she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from the window.

Troy went back to his original seat. He didn't like Clara very much. He saw only minuses in her. Probably because the pluses she didn't try to show off. I remained silent, but every now and then I felt that Otto was about to explode. And indeed, after a few seconds he did:

"Why did you come with me?" Troy swaggered and turned to me.

"I already told you," I said with a sigh, as indifferently as possible.

"We have to go back."

"They won't let you in."

"I didn't mean me. There's a house not far away. Drop me off. I'll stay there."

"Troy," I sighed again, "that's it, that's enough, I'm not leaving you alone."

"What are you making up? That we're bound forever?!" he started shouting. My ears rang.

"Troy, calm down."

"I don't understand you! Why are you doing this?! It's crazy to leave the ranch!"

"You understand, you just don't want to admit it," I said shaking my head tiredly, I didn't feel like arguing, I had been up all night packing. Troy looked at me and, apparently noticing my bad mood, stopped shouting.

"Wait, let me drive," Otto said coldly and indifferently.

I obeyed. In fact, I just wanted to sit in the passenger seat, close my eyes, and not think about what to do next for at least ten minutes.

We got out of the car and started to walk around the back of it. As we approached the boot, our gazes met. Honestly, I felt like just walking past and getting in the car. No confrontation. I just didn't have the energy for that. But I didn't have the desire to not look at him either. There was a guilt in his eyes that I naturally didn't believe. It seemed to me that he couldn't possibly feel that way. A heartless, self-centred psychopath, he couldn't regret his actions. How could I fall in love with him?! Very simply. Because he has more charisma in every millimetre of his body than any man I know. Because he's brave and funny and maybe even caring. There was nothing to be surprised about. Troy was a hybrid of the best and worst traits of humanity. I hated him to the core and loved him just as much.

2 seconds. We missed each other. And then I'm sitting on his right. We're driving on dry, cracked tarmac covered in a shroud of sand and dust. I slowly sink into a half-sleep. The dream comes in waves and takes me away from reality. Could my current reality be a dream? No. I have already pinched myself hundreds of times......