Torn Apart • TWD

Chapter 5 - Taylor

In a room that copied all the others, was a dirty man with his back pressing against the farthest wall in the corner. His skin was darkened by dirt, only a few inches of skin peeking out around his terrified eyes.

His hands are shaking while he pinches his skin between two fingers, making the girl frown at why the man is acting in such an odd way. His forearm is covered in cuts and welts, showing this has been going on for a while. Tessa's fingers curled around the knife, ready to use it as she took a step closer to the deranged man.

Flies have entered through the open window, presumably because of the empty food wrappers scattered over the floor. The bugs dance on the man's skin and hover around his face, and he who is barely even blinking just allows them to glide around without a care.

Though Tessa learns what really brought the insects into the room when she looks to the corner that's hidden by the door, bodily waste with a pool of vomit is excreting a putrid smell she is only now noticing, and once it stole her attention she instantly gags and blocks anything from entering her nose by pinching it with her fingers, similar to what the man is doing on his arm, without a care of the blood she is smearing on her face.

He doesn't indicate he knows she's there like he's in his head. The child whistles in the hope of snapping him out of it, but it's like he didn't even hear it, so she holds her breath and slowly walks back out the doorway, her eyes not leaving the man, and closes the door with a soft click before being able to breathe the relatively clean air.

She's seen how the end of the world has affected people, sometimes it makes them pull their shit together and do anything to survive, like her. But other times, people lose their sense of reality, seeing their loved ones torn apart and then having their bodies walking around without any recognition in their eyes can break a man, and clearly that's the case for this one.

He poses no threat to her, he didn't even flinch when a bug walked across his skin, and with all the empty wrappers and excrement there was, along with how hollow-cheeked and sickly his body was and the state of his broken mind, he could have been in there for months, perhaps even since the beginning.

He was wearing clothes that weren't very usual in the new world, it was an expensive shirt with a ripped-up tie and fancy shoes and trousers, while now people prefer practicality over style. Tessa herself has been wearing the same blood-soaked grey shirt with butterflies on it for over a month now because of how comfortable it is, along with her blue jeans that needed to be rolled up at the end. Her wardrobe only has a few articles of clothing and every one of them has traces of blood and dirt on them. This is not a man who has survived out there in the world.

She clears her mind of the demented man and once again focuses on the reason she's here. Continuing to check the rooms, she still only found plain adult rooms, until turned the corners, and it was like she walked into a completely different house.

Pictures of messy crayon drawings are taped to the pink walls of the hallway, and each door has a name written in different coloured letters. Tessa bolts into the first room, and if heaven were on earth, this is where she reckons it would be.

All manner of toys are sitting on the shelves, dolls, teddy bears, action figures, and more. She feels like she's in a toy store, almost expecting to feel her madre's hand grasp her arm to hold her back from manically running around like a hyperactive monkey.

A bunk bed sits in the corner, with a canopy sheet draped around it, accompanied by fairy lights which are draped over the walls. She could only imagine how pretty it would look with them turned on.

Forcing herself to snap out of her gazing at what she considers treasure, she scurries out of the room before she gets sucked into exploring some more.

Ignoring the doors where the names were written by children, she searches for any that an adult would have written for the baby.

Walking past all the colourful doors that were just begging for her to take a look, she resisted enough to make it to the only plain door with no drawings or paintings, just a piece of paper with 'Taylor' written in cursive fastened to the door.

With her breath held in anticipation, she turns the knob and an oversized giraffe teddy bear greets her, the walls are a light yellow with pictures of a chubby little baby with dark skin and coiled hair who is reaching for the camera with its tongue sticking out, hanging on all corners of the walls.

Nappies, wipes and cream all sit on a changing table, and baby onesies of different colours and sizes are folded into a stack in the corner of the table while under it lays a car seat. Standing in the centre of the room is a crib filled with blankets and a cushiony matt.

But best of all, an opened door at the far end of the room shows boxes upon boxes of powdered baby formula along with bottles and an unopened container of mushy food meant for older babies, Taylor must have been transitioning from milk to food when the dead started rising.

Without giving it a second thought, Tessa rushed towards the formula, emptying her bag of weapons before throwing the boxes and bottles in, filling it with so much food that it wouldn't properly close.

Having to get resourceful, she snatches up the car seat and uses her arm to scoop everything over the edge of the changing table resulting in lots of it landing on the floor, but enough reached the seat without having to pick them up. With the blanket from the crib, and her weapons along with the blue bear, the seat is full so she scampers out and closes the door behind her.

"Thank you, Taylor," she breaths out in gratitude for supplies the child has given her, and wasting no time she sprints, with one arm holding the car seat and the other trying to stop the items from bouncing out in her haste.

But as she passes the familiar door, she halts. Breathing quickly, she's ready to start running as fast as she can to get home, but that man will die a slow and painful death, with his mind repeating the tragedies that have occurred in the last year, it will be worse than torture.

So with that prompt thought, she sets the seat down and opens the door with her foot as she pulls back an arrow and releases it into his brain, making the finger pinching his tortured skin finally stops.

Returning her hand around the bar of the car seat, not caring about the arrow she was leaving behind and flying down the stairs so fast she almost tripped.