traded my life [TWD]

『70』

"Malnutrition," Hershel names. "He'll be awake soon. Hopefully back in his right mind, too."

I pick myself up off the wall. "Thanks."

Hershel sits back in his chair from checking Rick's heart rate.

"You've been carrying a lot on your shoulder recently," Hershel notes. "You know you don't have to carry it alone, right?"

"I'm fine," I assure.

"You're a survivor. On top of that, you're raising three kids- two of which are infants that need to be fed from your own body. You went through hell in Woodbury. And, you're the last piece of glue that is keeping Rick sane, therefore keeping this group sane."

"I'm fine," I repeat.

Hershel gives me a knowing look.

"I'm fine," I repeat once more, if only to drive my point further.

"Did you know Mary was a whore?" he wonders, catching me off guard.

"Thought she was a virgin? Kind of in the name."

"Not that Mary. Mary Magdalene," he explains.

"What? Like a prostitute?"

"No. She never got paid for her ways. She was just a sinful woman."

"Was she stoned to death?" I muse.

"She was Jesus' best friend. The only person to see the crucifixion and resurrection as they happened. Jesus' most trusted individual."

I slowly walk across the cell and sit at the foot of Rick's bed.

"She sinned many, many times. But, changed her life around after Christ opened her eyes. She was Maggie's favorite in the Bible when she was growing up. Maggie looked up to her a lot and said that she wanted to be like her."

My eyes meet Hershel's and he gives me a delicate smile.

"She carried the weight of guilt and shame like it was her job. But, Jesus would be lost without her advice and solace."

"You calling Rick our own Jesus?" I joke.

"I think leaders need someone to trust more than anyone else. And that behind every man is a strong woman. That does not get the credit she deserves."

"I had something like that," I recall.

"Yeah?" he urges me to tell him.

I roll my sleeve up to show the tattoo on my inner forearm. 

"I've always wondered," he notes.

"It's a daffodil," I explain, tracing the tattoo of the flower. "Shane paid for it. Haven't had a cigarette since I got it- that was our promise."

I couldn't recall a time I'd told anyone the story of my tattoo. But, it somehow made sense for Hershel to be the one I confided in.

"The legend is that the Greek goddess, Persephone was picking flowers. She got mesmerized by the beauty of the daffodil- narcissus, and when she picked it, the earth opened up and Hades, the God of the underworld, came out and drug her into hell with him."

"She was taken to hell against her consent.. But, then, after years of being there, she started to flourish. She grew to be Queen of the Dead. She did things that would've made Hades look like a pussy."

Hershel chuckles a bit.

"But, she has still held her old morals. She was the Goddess of fertility and love- feminity.. all while being the Goddess of death, ghosts, and destruction."