Junebug • TWD

28. No More Kid Stuff.

I guess while we were sitting there on the couch, I must've fallen asleep a little, because the next thing I know, my daddy's lightly shaking my shoulder. I pry my eyes open, rubbing them with the backs of my hands. I didn't get any sleep last night. That must be why I'm so dang tired.

"Hey," Dad says to me as he tucks a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm takin' Randall out with Rick now. You stay around the house while I'm gone, a'right? Don't go wanderin' off."

"I won't," I assure him. I don't have any reason to go wanderin' off, anyway. I don't really feel any reason to do anything, matter of fact. I just feel plain. Sort of like my chest is empty. I feel like that sometimes, especially after crying. It makes me feel like nothing at all. I don't want to get up or do anything, really.

"Good girl," Dad says, ruffling my hair as he gets up off the couch. Carl was here before, doing homework with Lori, but now they're both gone. And Maggie was folding laundry, but now she's off doing dishes. Dad leaves, too, and I'm all alone.

The sun shines nicely through the thin, white curtains. It's making this sunny, golden spot on the hardwood floors, and if the Greenes had a cat, then I'm sure it would choose to sit in that exact spot. The sun is more orange now that the day is coming to an end. My favorite is in the early mornings when the sky is pink and gorgeous. The sky is always gorgeous, though, really. Even when it's just plain blue.

Now that I'm thinking of gorgeous things, I remember that I left my doll in the tent. Maybe Dad wouldn't care if I went to get her really quick. I did just tell him I'd stay here, though, so I guess I ought to just wait until we go to bed later tonight. I'm sure Nicki won't mind waiting. I hope so, at least. No doll has ever been angry at me before, but I'm not looking to change that.

I stretch my leg far out so that my foot is in that little spot of sunlight on the floor. I was right. It is warm. And just as I bring my foot back to the couch and sit up straight again, I hear all the commotion going on outside. There are voices and they sound panicky, which makes me worry because I don't think I can take any more panic. Hopefully, it's nothing.

But my worry is too strong to just ignore it, so I get up off the couch and head outside. Almost everyone else is already gathered around, arguing and talking over each other. They're all gathered around the shed that they were keeping Randall in.

"The cuffs are still hooked. He must've slipped 'em," Rick is saying as I run up to the crowd. I get up behind him and peek around the side of him. He's staring into the shed, and now I am, too, and we're both seeing that Randall is gone. He's completely missing, unless he somehow managed to turn himself invisible.

"Is that possible?" Lori asks.

"It is if you got nothing to lose," Andrea replies.

I jump a little when my dad suddenly appears behind me and grabs my arm. He tugs me back, away from Rick and closer to himself. I look up at his face and he looks both worried and angry.

"The door was secured from the outside," Hershel points out.

"Why would he run away? We were gonna let him go," I say, furrowing my eyebrows with confusion.

"We didn't exactly tell him that," Rick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. That's something most adults do when they're stressed. They pinch their nose and rub their eyes. But not my dad. My dad chews at his fingernails, and once the fingernails are too short to chew, he chews at the skin around them. I used to do that, too, but Dad made me quit it. He's a hypocrite sometimes.

"Well, what do we do?" I ask.

And then, "Rick!" I jump at the loud, angry voice that just shouted out into the air. My dad squeezes my arm tighter, too. And then we both relax, but only a little bit, when we see that it's Shane who's shouting Rick's name. "Rick!" He has blood streaming down his face from his nose. Randall must have one mean right hook.