Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 31: Very Much Alive

I wake the next morning alone, tucked in underneath my blanket, still naked. I get up and hurry to get dressed and make myself presentable. There's a sink and a mirror in the cell, but the sink doesn't work when I turn the knobs. I look up, catching a glimpse in the mirror, and it stops me short.

My hair has gotten a lot longer, tangled and frizzy from lack of consistent care, and my face is dirty and almost gaunt in how thin I've become. I reach up and press my fingertips to my cheek, pulling the skin, and swallow back the lump in my throat. I take the mirror off the wall and turn it away from me as I rest it in the corner.

I step out to find that the cell block is mostly empty and the door leading into that dining/common area is open. Daryl isn't on his perch either.

I run into Carol as she's coming up the stairs and she smiles at me. She's holding a water bottle.

"Good morning," I say. "Sleep well?"

"Like a rock," she replies with a sigh. "Don't think I've slept that well in months." She glances over me and her eyes seem to glint, lip curling into a smirk. "Did you have a good evening?"

I nod. "Oh, yeah, totally."

"Sounded like it."

I blush furiously and her smile gets even bigger. "Oh, geez, I'm so sorry," I mumble, pressing one hand to my face.

"Don't be. At least some of us are having fun, right?" She bumps her shoulder with mine, still smirking as she moves past me. "Come on. I'm going to see Lori."

I follow her back to Lori's cell, grateful for the distraction, and we find her nervously pacing, two steps one way, then two the other, repeat. She looks up at us, chewing her thumbnail, and Carol frowns a little.

"You feeling okay?" she asks, handing her the water bottle.

"I..." She looks down at her stomach, hand fluttering over it. "I...I don't know. The baby...I think I lost it."

My eyes widen a little in alarm, but I carefully school my expression as I look to Carol. She meets my eyes, nodding as she lightly touches my arm.

"I'll get Hershel," she says, hurrying back outside.

"Let's get you seated, okay?" I murmur, urging Lori back to her bed.

She sits with some effort. She looks pale, her breaths fast, and I test her temperature with the back of my hand. She seems fine on that front, thank goodness, but there's still fear in her dark brown eyes.

"What makes you think you lost it?" I ask, taking a knee in front of her.

She looks at her lap, at her fidgeting hands. "It hasn't moved. I..."

There's footsteps outside and Hershel appears at the door. He smiles softly at me and Lori, going inside and taking a seat on a nearby stool. He's grown a beard over the winter and his hair has gotten shaggier. It softens him, makes him seem even kinder, like Santa Claus.

"Want to fill me in?" he asks.

"It's the baby," Lori says. "I think I lost it."

"You haven't felt it move?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. And no Braxton-Hicks." Her voice chokes a little and she rocks herself back and forth, unable to stay still. "At first I thought it was exhaustion or malnutrition."

"You're anemic?"

Again, she nods. She looks so gaunt, so tired, dark circles underneath her eyes, and she's never looked more frail. I wish I could offer more than emotional support. She flexes her hands on the bed beneath her.