total eclipse of the heart - carl grimes

III

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iii.

stuck in the middle
"started out with nothing, now we've ended up with something"

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The first thing I notice when I wake is the weight of something soft draped over me. I blink, disoriented, and realize it's an old quilt, faded and threadbare but warm. I shift in the armchair, the aches that settled into my bones yesterday now dulled by actual rest. It's still raining, the steady drum of it on the roof as relentless as before, but it's quieter now.

My eye scans the room, landing on Mary across from me. She's curled up on a window seat, a book in her hands, flipping through the pages as though the world outside doesn't exist. She hasn't noticed I'm awake yet.

I pull the quilt off, tossing it aside as quietly as I can, though a part of me wants to make a show of it. I should be pissed. I want to be pissed. She didn't wake me up for the watch. She could've gotten us both killed while I was asleep. But... I'm not dead. And I'm rested for the first time in days. So whatever anger I should feel just doesn't rise to the surface.

Still, that doesn't stop me from letting the words come out sharp. "You were supposed to wake me."

She looks up, startled, like she didn't expect me to be up this early. "I didn't want to." She tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear. "You seemed peaceful."

I narrow my eye, the irritation fighting to stay, but the truth is I don't know what to say to that. I can't even remember the last time anyone thought about me like that.

Peaceful.

The word doesn't fit. I've never been peaceful, not when I was a kid, or even a baby. Mom told me I had colic, cried all day and night.

I've been in crisis since the crib.

I stand up and cross the room, going to the window. The rain is still coming down in sheets, the ground a muddy mess that'll slow us down. The cold seeps through the glass as I press my hand against it, trying to calculate in my head if we should wait it out or push on.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" Mary's voice cuts through the silence, her tone casual, like she's commenting on the weather.

My hand drops from the window, my pulse quickening. I turn slowly, my eye narrowing on her. "What?"

She shrugs, her expression unreadable, but there's something in her eyes. "You were talking. I didn't catch much of it."

"What did I say?" My heart stumbles over itself, panic simmering beneath the surface, but I can't help it. There are things I'd rather keep buried, things I don't want her or anyone else hearing.

"Nothing important." She just shrugs again, her eyes going back to the book, like it's no big deal. As if she wasn't the one who brought it up.

I'm not convinced. I take a step toward her, trying to force my voice lower, calmer. "Mary. What did I say?"

"I don't know. It wasn't anything that made sense."

I can't tell if she's lying or if she really didn't hear. I want to press further but I doubt she'll tell me either way. She's stubborn like that.

She changes the subject. "Are we heading out, then?"

The thunder rolls in heavy, like it's dragging the sky down with it. I don't answer Mary right away. I just watch the rain beat against the window, thinking it's better to wait it out. Safer. The truth is, I don't mind staying here for a while. This house feels like it's sealed off from the rest of the world, the outside so far away it might as well be a dream.