Unbreakable threads

Chapter Forty- Nine: Like Father, like daughter.

As Alyssa gazed down at the baby girl nestled in Beth's arms, a chill crept up her spine. Her eyes drifted over Beth's shoulder, and there, standing behind her, was Shane. His face twisted in that familiar, unsettling smirk, his eyes alight with a cold amusement that sent a wave of dread through her. He was laughing, his mouth opening in a silent, mocking chuckle, as if taunting her from beyond the grave.

Alyssa's face drained of color, her expression going vacant as her mind struggled to process what she was seeing. It couldn't be real; she knew that. Shane was gone—she had made sure of it herself. And yet, there he was, as vivid as the day she'd seen him last, his presence filling her with an intense sense of unease.

Carol, standing nearby, noticed the shift immediately. She saw Alyssa's face pale, her gaze distant and unfocused, staring at something that wasn't there. "Alyssa?" Carol's voice was soft but laced with concern as she stepped closer, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to try and pull her back to the present.

Beth looked up, sensing the tension, her eyes filled with worry as she glanced between Alyssa and Carol. "What is it?" she whispered, her own voice barely audible, afraid to break whatever spell had gripped Alyssa.

"It's... it's nothing," she managed, her voice strained, barely able to hide the tremor that betrayed her fear. She forced a weak smile, but Carol's hand on her shoulder didn't move, a silent assurance that she didn't have to pretend.

The vision of Shane grew more intense, his mocking laughter filling her ears, louder and louder until it felt like he was right beside her. Alyssa's heart pounded, her breath quickening as his taunts cut through the stillness of the yard, words dripping with venom and malice.

"I got Lori, didn't I?" Shane sneered, his voice cruel, taunting. "My child's gonna follow soon enough... just like everyone else. And then? Then I'm comin' for you, Alyssa. You and Rick both."

The words seemed to echo around her, pressing in from all sides. Alyssa's blood ran cold, and a wave of dread washed over her, pulling her deeper into the horrifying illusion. It was as though Shane was there, standing just across the yard, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he promised to take everything she had left.

Her hands began to shake, her face pale and vacant, unable to tear her gaze away from the place she saw him standing. Her mind screamed that it wasn't real, that Shane was gone, but the voice, his voice, was so vivid, so painfully real. Every cruel, cutting word lodged itself deep, making her feel helpless, like a child haunted by the dark.

Carol's voice cut through the fog, grounding her with gentle but firm hands on her shoulders. "Alyssa? Honey, look at me," she said, her tone a mixture of concern and strength. Carol's face came into focus, her worried eyes searching Alyssa's, pulling her back to the present.

Alyssa blinked, her heart still pounding, her vision clearing to see only the empty yard before her. There was no Shane, no sinister laughter, just the concerned faces of Carol and Beth, both watching her, waiting for her to say something, to explain the terror they saw in her eyes.

Hershel stepped forward cautiously, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and understanding as he took in Alyssa's disheveled appearance—the blood splattered on her face, staining her hands, and the vacant, haunted look in her eyes. He'd seen many people pushed to their limits since the world had changed, and even though he was a veterinarian and not a psychologist, he recognized the signs of a mind teetering on the edge, fractured by the weight of trauma and loss.

Alyssa's hands were trembling slightly, her gaze still darting around as if searching for something that wasn't there. Hershel approached her slowly, his voice soft but steady. "Alyssa," he said gently, trying to pull her back, to ground her in the present moment. He knew that whatever she'd seen in those tombs—whatever horrors she'd faced—had left a deep scar, one that wasn't just physical.