When The World Caves In |C.G.

fifty

"Beau?" A woman at the very end of the train car asks, peaking around the large redhead. She was hanging back at the very edge scoping all of us out. 

"Holy shit," My brother whispers. It's weird, the realization that my brother is here with me after a decade. Beau surges forward to wrap his arms around the woman. She's shorter than him, with curly dark hair framing her face. 

I turn away from the reunion, not wanting to intrude on Beau's moment. I back away to the far corner of the train car where Carl is squatting, peering through a crack in the wall. 

Rick is discussing with the tall red-head who reveals his name is Abraham. He's asking what happened when they got trapped in here. The rest of the group is making makeshift weapons to attack our captors.

"See anything?" I ask my voice scratchy, squatting next to him. 

"No, nothing now." He tells me, then he shifts to look at me. "Is your throat okay?" 

He's referencing the large bruises that make up the majority of my neck. I nod my head, before shrugging. 

"Hurts, but I'm okay." I tell him and he kisses my forehead softly. "How's your cheek?" 

"Stings like a bitch." He says and I laugh at the way the word bitch comes out of his mouth. Carl has never been the potty-mouthed one in our relationship. 

"That guy didn't-" I say the words quietly. They've been at the back of my mind since last night. But the events of last night and today have been distracting both of us from talking. 

"No," He cuts me off. "Briggs' didn't-" 

"No, he almost did, but he didn't." I say, the name seeming to set me off. His face flashes in my mind and I take a sharp intake of breath. "He's dead, I killed him before..." 

It's the first time I've come close to saying what almost happened last night. Carl must recognize the way my stare goes vacant towards my nails that have dried blood caked on them.  He takes my hand in his, snapping my attention away from my hands. 

"Hey, he's dead." Carl tells me, forcing my attention onto him. "He can't hurt you anymore." 

As much as I know that's true, it feels like it isn't. I can still feel the pressure from his weight on my chest. The way his hands gripped my throat. My hands shake at the thought and I want to throw up. The walls in here are suffocating me, and I can't breathe. 

"Fuck." I whisper, taking another shuddering breath. Trying to force more oxygen into my lungs. My throat feels like it's closing in on itself. "Fuck." 

The dried blood that's caked on my skin starts to feel warm and sticky. Like it's fresh, it feels like it did last night. I use my palm to try and remove it from my skin but it just creates angry red marks. Especially because there's no water to get it off. 

"Hey, Rory." Carl's voice sounds far away even though he's right next to me. My hands are shaking in his, they feel like tremors. He forces me to sit on my butt and put my head on in between my knees. "Roo, just breathe."

"Dad." I whisper and he nods. 

"Daryl!" Carl says and Daddy comes over immediately despite the fact that he's talking to Maggie, sensing the urgency in his voice and squats in front of me. 

"What's wrong?" Daddy asks, dropping his attention to me.

"I can feel him-" I gasp, clawing at my neck and patting my heart. It's racing a million miles per minute. Thumping so loudly it's in my ears. "Pressure, here." 

"Alright." Daddy whispers, taking off his vest to wrap it around my shoulders. I feel the leather under my fingertips and take comfort in the way it smells like him. "Deep breaths, okay?"