million dollar man | twd

ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ

[ healing ]
꧁꧂

The first light of daybreak filtered through the smoke-filled air, casting an eerie glow over the scene of devastation. Bodies, both walker and human, were strewn across the ground, their forms twisted and lifeless.

Vanessa surveyed the aftermath with a heavy heart, her body coated in a grim mix of fresh and dried blood. Dirt and ash clung to her, making her look like a battlefield survivor. Her hair was tangled, blood matting some of the loose strands, and her clothes were torn and smeared with grime.

The exhaustion weighed on her, a constant, throbbing reminder of the nearly twenty-four hours she'd been fighting without rest. Her muscles ached, and her eyes felt gritty from the lack of sleep.

Vanessa trudged back to the house, the exhaustion making every step feel like a mile. Inside, she moved with a mechanical precision, guided by sheer necessity rather than clear thought. She made her way to the bathroom, barely noticing the quiet hum of the community's recovery efforts outside.

The shower felt like a sanctuary as she turned on the water, letting the hot streams cascade over her. The heat was almost scalding, but she welcomed it, hoping it would wash away not just the physical dirt but the overwhelming emotional weight of the night.

As the water flowed, Vanessa sat down in the shower, her back against the tiled wall. She let the water run over her, mingling with the blood and grime that coated her skin. The water was relentless, but it felt almost soothing as it battered against her.

The tears started slowly at first, then came in a flood, mingling with the water. Her sobs were quiet at first, but soon they grew into ragged, choking cries, the sound echoing off the tiles. She cried for the lives lost, for the devastation that seemed endless, for Carl's injuries, and for the heavy toll the night had taken on everyone.

She cried for the fear that gripped her, the constant gnawing worry for her loved ones, and the exhaustion that threatened to consume her. She cried for the world that had been torn apart, for the normalcy that seemed so distant now.

The water continued to pour over her, a relentless stream that somehow felt like it was washing away not just the blood, but some of the sorrow as well. As her tears subsided, she remained there, letting the warmth soothe her aching muscles, her breaths slowly steadying. For a brief moment, the chaos of the outside world seemed to fade away, replaced by the steady, comforting presence of the shower.

Eventually, she dragged herself out of the shower, her skin red and wrinkled from the hot water. Wrapped in a towel, she looked at her reflection in the mirror—a tired, battle-worn face staring back at her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before getting dressed.

Dressed in fresh clothes, she made her way downstairs, her steps heavy with fatigue. The house was quieter now, the chaos of the night before giving way to a grim calm. She headed to Daryl's room, the need for his presence a comforting thought in her weary mind.