Survivor - TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 32 - Try

Alexandria...

Michonne lies on her back, staring at the ceiling as the early morning light filters through her window. The clean white covers beneath her feel soft, almost too soft, given the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. She releases a long sigh, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, but the memories of the day before cling to her mind like a heavy fog she can't escape.

The run crew had returned last night. They lost Aiden, Deanna's son. And Noah. The image of Noah's face flashes across her mind, young and hopeful, a kid who still had so much life ahead of him. Tara, too, was hurt badly. The whole mission had been a disaster, and now, the stories Glenn and Nicholas were telling have split the community in two, creating a rift between the Alexandrians and their group.

On top of that, Nelly was gone. Gabriel's words to Deanna still linger like poison in Michonne's thoughts—he told her they were dangerous. That they couldn't be trusted. The walls of Alexandria, which once felt like a sanctuary, are beginning to feel like a cage closing in.

Michonne's worry gnaws at her insides. These people—they haven't seen what she has. They haven't had to. They're sheltered, blind to the reality of the world outside. They don't know what it takes to survive. And while their naïveté frustrates her, she knows how much they need this place. She needs this place. Alexandria is the closest thing to a home any of them have had in a long time, and despite its flaws, it's all they've got. Michonne wants it to work, needs it to work. Not just for herself, but for the whole group—for Rick, for Carl, for all of them.

She breathes in deeply, the weight of it all pressing down on her chest like a heavy stone. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to move, even though every part of her just wants to stay still, to shut it all out for a few more minutes. But she can't. She never can.

As she stands, her eyes catch on the laundry basket in the corner. She walks over, her fingers brushing over the clothes on top. She picks up a gray long-sleeve shirt, feeling the familiar fabric between her hands. It's Nelly's—the one with the small hole in the sleeve from when they were on the road. Michonne remembers the moment clearly. Nelly had snagged her shirt on a tree branch and almost tumbled face-first into the mud. Michonne had laughed, a rare, genuine laugh, and Nelly had shot her a glare that could've melted steel. The memory makes her chest tighten, the sharp edge of guilt cutting deep.

She holds the shirt up for a moment, her thoughts spiraling. Nelly. Her friend. She had always been there for Michonne, saving her more times than she could count. And now? Michonne feels like she failed her. She wasn't there when Nelly needed her. After everything Nelly had done for her—pulling her out of the darkest moments, standing by her side when the world crumbled—Michonne couldn't return the favor.

She puts the shirt back in the basket, her hands lingering over it for a second too long before she pulls away. Deep down, she knows why Nelly left. She had been unraveling for a while now, struggling with demons Michonne couldn't reach, wounds that were too deep to heal. And though Michonne had hoped Nelly would find her footing in Alexandria, she knew, if Nelly left without saying a word, it was because she didn't want anyone to stop her.

Michonne steps toward her closet, pulling out her sheriff's jacket and a clean shirt. She stares down at the uniform in her hands, the fabric heavy with responsibility. The weight of it almost feels suffocating. How can she put on this jacket when everything around her is falling apart? Aiden and Noah are dead. Tara is hanging on by a thread. Nelly is gone. And now, there's a divide between them and the Alexandrians, fueled by fear and mistrust. The losses weigh her down, each one pulling at her like anchors, sinking her deeper into doubt.