The Lucky One//twd

042. I'm Still Here

Madison's POV

Everyone was tense. The kind of quiet that comes before a storm—not because of walkers or a breach, but because something in the air was wrong.

And I could feel it. Every sideways glance. Every unfinished sentence. Every time someone stopped asking how I was and started pretending I wasn't even there.

I wasn't blind. They thought I was dead weight.

I just didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

I spent most of my time walking laps around the yard alone, or sitting in the corner of the cafeteria after meals, picking at food I wasn't really hungry for. If Lori's death cracked something in Rick, it shattered something in me.

And I think the others started to feel like I should've been "over it" by now. Like I didn't have the right to keep unraveling.

But every time I tried to breathe, it felt like Shane's shadow was still following me.

⸻

I was stacking a few broken trays in the back of the cafeteria when I heard Daryl's voice rise over the usual morning chatter.

"She's gotta get her head on straight," he muttered, not quietly. "She ain't the only one who's lost someone."

I froze.

"She's trying," Blake shot back. I didn't need to look to know he was already walking toward his older brother.

"Try harder," Daryl barked. "We're all tired, but we still show up."

"She is showing up," Blake growled. "She's still here, ain't she?"

Daryl's laugh was bitter. "Barely. You think being seventeen makes her a damn exception?"

"She's not an exception," Blake said, louder now, "but she's not you either, Daryl. You deal with grief by stuffing it in and acting like a jackass. She doesn't."

"She's not the only one who lost Shane," Daryl said low. "Don't forget he was my friend too."

"You didn't watch him fall apart," Blake snapped. "She did."

"Maybe if she'd spoken up—"

That was it. Blake lunged.

The table between them scraped back hard. Chairs clattered to the floor. Blake shoved Daryl so hard he slammed against the wall. Daryl, bigger and older, steadied himself quickly, fists curled.

But Rick jumped in before it turned worse.

"Enough!" Rick's voice cut the air. "We've all been through hell, but turning on each other's not the way."

Everyone was staring.

And I was already gone.

I hid in the prison's half-charred library, curled up between broken shelves and a half-burned paperback someone had left behind.

I felt empty. But also kind of... heavy. Like there was grief and shame and confusion sitting on my chest all at once.

Blake found me there. He didn't say anything at first. Just sank down beside me, arms resting on his knees.

"You didn't have to fight him," I said, voice scratchy.

"Yeah," Blake muttered, "I kinda did."

"He's your brother."

"So? You're more family then him."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Madison," he said gently, "you're allowed to break down. But you're not alone in it anymore. You got me. And that's not changing."

He didn't touch me. Didn't force a hug or try to pull me up. He just stayed there. And I think that meant more than anything else he could've said.

⸻

Later that day, I wandered into the laundry room. Maggie was folding clothes, humming something under her breath.

She looked up when she saw me. "Hey, haven't seen you around."

"Been busy," I lied.

She gave me a soft smile. "Everything alright?"

I was about to give a half-answer when Glenn walked in, holding a single daisy in a cracked mug of water. Maggie grinned so wide it almost startled me. He leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, and handed it to her like it was made of gold.

They didn't even notice me for a second. It was... peaceful. Normal. Like we weren't trapped behind fences and rotting corpses.

I laughed softly. A real laugh. The first in weeks.

Maggie turned toward me. "You good?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'm really happy for you two. You guys make this place feel... alive."

She smiled at me. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Glenn gave me a warm look, then headed out.

Maggie lingered, then did something I didn't expect. She reached over and hugged me.

I didn't pull away.

⸻

Back on the catwalk again. Me and Blake. Just the two of us, sitting under a sky that didn't care who we'd lost.

He handed me half a sandwich, which I took even though I wasn't hungry.

"You smiled today," he said, nudging my shoulder. "Like, really smiled."

I stared down at my knees, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.

"Glenn and Maggie," I murmured. "They remind me that there's still something worth holding onto."

Blake looked over at me. "You're part of that, you know."

I gave him a side glance. "Part of what?"

"Something worth holding onto."

I didn't say anything. I didn't have to.

Because even in the middle of everything—loss, tension, survival—there were still moments like this.

Quiet. Safe.

And somehow, I was still here.