VILLAINESS [TWD]

➴116

As Mom told the others in the truck the story of the farm's drought, I found myself picking at my fingernails and staring out the window.

"Do you remember the drought?" Elijah asks.

I remember the drought. It was blurry, but I remember it.

Lydia and Anna were up front with Mom as she drove. Josh, Elijah, and I were in the backseat. 

I glance to Mom's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, a little," I recall. "I was seven or so.. I remember going to the field and laying with the cattle so they wouldn't think they were alone."

"But, they were just animals," Lydia speaks up.

"Back then it was different. The cows.. horses.. dogs.. hell, even the crops themselves.. They were family. And seeing the crops dry out and the cows go hungry made me hurt just as much."

"But, you still didn't ask for help? Even when those legal people were offering?"

I turn my head so I can rest against the window.

"The house was family, too. If those men bought it, they'd plow it down like it was nothing. The cattle would be killed. The crops would be smashed. It was either stick the drought out together and work hard for better days or let men in suits ruin everything. And we loved each other too much to let it go."

An image of the barn on fire sinks in my brain. I sigh and look outside again.

The conversation continues in the background. All I could think about was the farm going up in flames and being taken over by walkers.

I think about Anna's words, our fight, before we left.

Back on the farm, we faced the worst thing together because we loved each other.

Now, I was finally returning home after running away because.. I loved my family too much?

No.

Anna was right. She has devoted everything to me and trusted me with her life. Our bond goes beyond girlfriends now. We were survival partners. Best friends. Home.

And Mom put the entirety of Hilltop at stake to find me. If I had stayed, would Jesus still be alive? Enid? Tara?

Hershel was a baby and Mom still dragged him around America after me. He should hate me. But, he doesn't.

I wasn't running away because I loved them too much. And clearly not because they didn't love me enough.

Maybe I was just running away because I hated myself too much.

I mean, hell, I still thought I was a threat to them. I was still waiting for my big fuck-up moment and I get someone I love hurt or killed. I hated myself. And because of that, I couldn't accept any love.

How many smiles and laughs did I miss out on over the past five years or so because I was chasing the image of my dead father?

If things went wrong today, would I hate that I didn't have more memories of Anna to look back on? 

If I suffered the same fate as Mom did with Grandpa, would I long for just one more conversation with her? One more prayer? One more hug?

I was too busy chasing ghosts.

I was too busy wishing for what once was.

I was too busy looking over my shoulder.

I was too busy waiting for.. him.

The scene of the barn changes. It slowly morphs into something else.

A pale face. A graying beard. Hazel eyes. A sharp nose. Slicked back hair.

The truck suddenly stops and I barely manage to catch myself before going head-first into the back of Lydia's seat.

My hand darts to the knife by my side. I peer over the dash to see why Mom stopped. There were three walkers in the road. All three dressed in Commonwealth gear.

"Shit," I hiss under my breath.

We head out of the truck. Mom, Elijah, and Lydia are the ones to take care of the walkers.

I look around for signs of other life, but there wasn't any.

"How did they die?" Lydia wonders.

I stand over one of the dead bodies and tear at his gear. I pull the chin guard back and finally spot the wound.

"Neck slash," I answer, moving to the next and repeating the search. "Shot between the armor gaps."

"Same here," Mom inspects on the final one.

I scratch the back of my neck and look around the empty road. Well.. almost empty. There was a broken down cart. I jog over to it and search through the remains, but there wasn't much left. 

I pick up an empty bullet shell. "They had weapons here. Maybe they got jumped?"

"Over weapons?" Josh clarifies. "Must've been some heavy shit they were carrying."

"Hey!"

I jump at the sound of someone yelling. I swiftly take my gun out and point it at the source.

"Wait," Mom calls, looking through binoculars. "Don't."

"Why?" Anna asks, stepping forward to guard Lydia and Elijah.

"It's Aaron."

My blood goes cold. Aaron? Out here?

Aaron runs the rest of the way down the road to us. I put my weapons away and continue searching the wagon while waiting for him.

"What the hell's going on?" Mom asks him at once.

"Things went to shit," he states, panting. "Let me start from the beginning.."