Savior Complex

Chapter Three

A/N- Hi! So if you're a fellow American, you most likely had a pretty shitty and rough week. I'd like to say that I'm right there with you and no matter who you are or what goes down, you're safe with me.  Stay hopeful, stay safe, and enjoy a few minutes of escapism. 

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 Eyes closed, she reached to scratch the aching, stinging gash. Being met with plastic thread and crusted blood, she cringed and pulled her hand back down.

She started at the knock on the door, flinging into a seat position as reality hit to her. Aching limbs dragging against a scratchy comforter, her feet had only hit the floor before the door creaked open.

The sudden movement sent her spinning but through blurred vision, the blonde woman from the truck stood in the doorway. Black lines peeked from around her neck, a tattoo of some sort, and a gun strapped across her back with hands extending a stack of clothes.

"Boss said to drop these off and show you where to shower." She said, shoving the clothes further out. "Let's go."

The clothes were thrust into her arms as the woman turned on her heel. She hadn't gotten a good look

around the first time, too delirious with pain and confusion. Everything was gray and industrial. Beams and pipes lined the walls, and though the daylight beamed in from the windows, it seemed to absorb into the unforgiving concrete floors and left the corridor unfeeling and cold.

She tried to memorize anything telling of location but each hallway looked the same. She could remember the turns but after a few minutes, the place felt more like a maze than shelter.

Eventually, the woman stopped at a door with an old "restroom" sign stuck to it. She gestured towards it.

"Anything else you might need should be in there. After you're done, go back to your room. Someone will bring you food, was told you need rest."

With that, she nodded once and walked off.

She blinked for a moment before pushing open the door.

The bathroom was small but functional. Cement floors and brick walls reminded her of the community pool bathroom in her old neighborhood.

She sat the clothes on the toilet lid. It looked to be a pair of jeans, a black shirt and some underwear with socks.

She moved towards the shower. There wasn't a curtain but running water was a luxury, one that she'd never pass up.

She twisted the faucet handle, warm water sprayed out. It wasn't ice cold which was a plus. She stripped from her old clothes, leaving them in a pile, and stepped into the stream.

She scrubbed the dirt and blood from her body, wincing when it stung the scrapes and scratches. She wondered if her stitches were able to get wet this soon but realized it probably didn't matter. It was most likely worse to leave them caked in last night's gunk.

She let the water cascade over her as she picked the dried blood from her hair. It was something she'd become accustomed to in the last years.

She could stay there forever, warm and clean. It was a small break from everything, a suspension in time where she could breathe, let her mind process what was happening and how she was supposed to fix it.

But his screams of her name from that night clouded her brain. The steam was choking and suffocating, her skin was burning.

She had no idea where he was, if he was still alive. He could be somewhere in the building, alone and hurt. And she was here, showering and clothed. She'd be fed soon enough. Daryl was probably dying and she was being pampered for a reason she couldn't understand. Though, she suspected it was nothing good.