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

Everything will get better

I woke up in the middle of the night. Troy was sitting on the edge of the bed, bandaging his knee. A few days have passed. Of course, he was on the mend, but his leg was still bleeding periodically. He couldn't move without help or a crutch.

"Can I help you?"

Otto turned to me.

"I'll manage on my own," Otto replied rudely.

"You okay?"

"No. I'm hell and gone from okay," Troy said with a sigh, "it looks like I won't be able to go properly for a long time."

"I'm going to get some water. You want drink?"

"Yes," Otto whispered, as if to himself. He was engrossed in bondage the leg and didn't even look at me.

I got up and walked to the dresser. Opening the underwear drawer, I rummaged around a bit and found a pack of cigarettes. Carefully pulling one thing and a lighter out of it, I clenched them into a fist and headed for the door.

"What did you take from the dresser?" Troy addressed this to my back.

"Nothing."

"Unclench your fist," he sighed heavily and held out his open palm to me, "come on, Dell."

I unclenched my fist and showed him the cigarette, already slightly crumpled.

"Do you really want to?"

"Tolerable."

"Then why?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Okay, give it to me, okay?"He was still holding his palm open.

I reluctantly put my "treat" in Otto's hand.

"Are you satisfied?"

"No. I don't understand you. Why are you so eager to commit suicide?"

"God, Troy, it's just a cigarette!"

"Your sister said about the 'powder' about the same thing," he chuckled, but then he saw my reaction and his eyes dropped, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. But I don't understand this urge for self-destruction."

"It's just boredom, not a desire for self-destruction," I rolled my eyes, "but I see that now that you've noticed it, you feel better." Maybe then we can discuss what we're going to do with your potential killers?

"I don't know. I don't want to do anything at all."

"But you have to."

"What do you think? What should I do with them?"

"You better not ask me," I spread my hands.

"Why?"

"If they did this to me," I nodded at his leg, "what would you want to do to them?"

"Oh, believe me, there would be no doubt, they would have been dead a long time ago."

"That's the point.

"That's another matter. You're not like me. And that's why they're still alive."

"Just because I'm not a psychopath doesn't mean I can't want to kill them after what they did to you."

"Fair enough. But still... What are we going to do with them?"

"There are several options. Kill or banish from the ranch. The second option, in fact, means that we forgave them and let them go. And I have no idea how to do it. They can come back and do it again. Or something even worse."