Safe haven | Rick Grimes

048. IT WAS LIKE I NEVER RAN AWAY

Chapter forty eight

"It was like I never ran away."

That morning, Scarlett made sure Carl and Judith had both eaten a good breakfast. As she was finishing up in the kitchen, the distinct, metallic shhh of a katana blade sliding into a sheath echoed from the floor above.

Holding Judith securely in her arms, Scarlett walked upstairs to investigate. She found Michonne standing in the center of her room, dressed meticulously in her crisp new constable uniform.

Scarlett leaned against the doorframe, a faint, amused smirk tugging at her lips. "I have to tell you... that sword does not go with that outfit."

Michonne let out a soft chuckle, adjusting the collar of her jacket. "Well, we have the authority to break up fistfights now."

"Deanna told me she could read people," Scarlett noted, shifting Judith slightly to fix her hold. "Said she wasn't as good as me, but..."

Michonne's expression turned serious as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. "I don't know if this uniform is for us, or if it's for them. Or maybe Deanna is just trying to get rid of us. You put these jackets on me and Rick, let the people see it... if that's her play, it's smart. And she seems smart."

"Smart for before," Scarlett corrected coldly, her eyes dropping down to look at the baby in her arms. "Not for now."

"This is now," Michonne insisted, her gaze unyielding as she looked back at her friend.

Scarlett looked up, her expression hardening with absolute certainty. "Not for me."

Without another word, Scarlett turned on her heel and walked away down the hall, leaving Michonne alone with her reflection.

As the afternoon rolled on, the house was quiet except for the soft thudding sound of Judith playing with a carved wooden horse on the living room rug. Scarlett watched her from the sofa, trying to let her guard down, when a faint scuff of boots echoed from the front porch.

Instantly alert, Scarlett stood up. She crept over to the entryway and cautiously unlocked the front door. Pulling it open, she found no one there—just a large, unmarked cardboard box resting on the welcome mat.

Scarlett stepped out onto the porch, her eyes darting sharply to the left and then to the right. The sunlit street was completely empty. Her heart began to beat a little faster against her ribs. She reached down, lifted the heavy box, and brought it inside, kicking the door shut behind her.

She set it on the console table and peeled back the cardboard flaps, pushing aside layers of yellowed tissue paper.

Her breath trapped itself in her throat.

Tucked neatly inside the box was a cascade of white lace and silk. Her wedding dress.

The classical music was playing softly, echoing beautifully through the small chapel. She remembered the sweet scent of the white roses in her bouquet, the way her hands trembled with pure, innocent excitement. She had looked across the altar at Pete, handsome in his tuxedo, his smile warm and completely disarming. He had leaned in, sliding the ring onto her finger, whispering, "You're mine now, Scarlett. Forever."

Then the music stopped, replaced by the sharp, echoing crack of a hand slamming across her face.

The memory shifted violently to a dark living room floor, the smell of spilled wine and copper. She was on her knees, gasping for air as Pete loomed over her, his warm wedding smile replaced by a mask of pure, unbridled rage. His hand came down again, gripping her hair and yanking her head back until her neck popped. "You don't look at anyone else," he growled into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "I made you. You belong to me."