𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 ➵ (𝐓𝐖𝐃)

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

Ada

⋆˚ʚɞ

I sat in my cell, presumably sleeping, but really I was eavesdropping on the arguments outside. First, it was my brother on bed rest, but somehow, now it's me. I am under strict instruction to rest, and not think about what happened today. But that's easier said than done. It's the only thing I can think about. Luckily, Daryl had come back, but he brought his brother with him.

"We're not leaving." Rick has stood his ground thus far.

"We can't stay here." Hershel has also made his point.

"If there's another sniper, those wood pallets won't stop those rounds," Maggie states.

"We can't even go outside," Beth says.

"Not in the daylight," Carol adds.

"If Rick says we're not running, we're not running." Glenn defends.

"Nope. Better to live like rats." Daryl's brother, Merle, quips at them.

"You got a better idea?" Rick asks, sounding annoyed.

"We should have slid out of here last night, and lived to see another day."

He's very pessimistic, but I hate to admit that I think he's right. I'm terrified of this 'governor'. I hate to flee, to take the cowardly way out. But this far into our fights, he's always won. I feel like it isn't worth it anymore.

"I'm sure he's got scouts on every road by now." Merle states.

"We ain't scared of that prick," Daryl says to his brother.

"Ya'll should be," Merle says. "That truck through the fence thing, that's just him ringing the doorbell. We might have thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. He could just starve us out if he wanted to."

I sigh, not wanting to hear any more of this conversation. I turn onto my stomach and pull my pillow over my head, drowning out their voices.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"I told my dad he shouldn't be our leader anymore," Carl says to me that night in my cell.

I was lying down looking up at him from where he stood. "How come?" I asked him.

"It's hurting him too much." He says. "I don't want to see him tire himself out you know?"

"I get it." I agree with him. "It's all so much for one person to bear."

"Was he angry?" I ask him.

"I don't think so." He answers. "I hope not."

"Me too."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

I slept most of the day away. It was early in the evening when I finally woke up.

"G'mornin', sleepyhead." My brother says from beside me.

"Mornin'." I say, yawning.

"Feeling hungry, or anything?" He asks me.

"No thanks." I haven't had an appetite since the shooting. Maybe it's the nerves.

"Okay." He stands up and holds his hand out for me to take. "How about getting out of this cell for a little bit? You're not gonna feel much better if you lay in bed all day." He reasons.