𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]

[37]: ghosts

It was quite foreign for me to be holding a steering wheel. I was shaking, holding the rubber of the wheel tightly, it squeaking under my grasp. My scarred hands made it a weird sensation to add onto that.

I hadn't driven since before my parents were taken, and I never planned to be driving again.

Those pills were supposed to be helping, but all they did was heighten every sense like all I could see was through a kaleidoscope. Whilst everything was clear, it was like a jigsaw puzzle made up with mismatching pieces. Everything was in the wrong place.

It made me constantly dizzy, and slightly out of it. It probably wasn't the best state I could have been in to drive a car, but I felt too awkward to say something.

I wanted to go out there and help with finding Sophia, and all I could do was visit somewhere she probably hadn't been. There was no sense in my mind that told me I was going to find Sophia. I was not going to be the one to find her.

The adamance in my code truly showed itself as I refused to be treated like a porcelain doll even when I found it painful to breathe.

And I had no control over my drive.

I had arrived at the highway, the place feeling familiar due to there being a large space where the RV once was. A dusty car had painted words scribed onto the front screen. "Sophia stay here we will come every day" it read, the messy words becoming an important message.

After calling out her name and searching high and low throughout the abandoned cars, it appeared to me that Sophia was not there. Unlike what Rick had said, she didn't come back, and instead she would have been nearer to the house Daryl found.

Getting back in the car, looking at the tiny watch Glenn had given me a while back but had never gotten to use, I was going to time how long I was going to be here. Although a sense of guilt washed over me at the possibility that she could somehow, miraculously come back mere seconds after I left. I was going to leave as soon as I could.

I didn't like being alone for too long now.

Being alone used to be a private, and self-worth thing. You could get more things done, relax, do what you please. But in this new world, alone was dangerous.

Alone was a walker lurking around the corner and not turning in time.

Alone was a human taking your supplies.

Alone was doing things no one stopped you from doing.

Alone was no longer what it used to be and I hated that.

The seat felt uncomfortable, stiff. It smelt of smoke, and it creaked under slight movements. The floor was covered in leaves and dirt that soon covered my already dirty boots.

Looking back down to my watch, I still had fifteen minutes left.

I soon turned catatonic as I had nothing to do. My vision became foggy and my brain had sparks running through it that resembled a migraine.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I scrunched up my face in annoyance and pain.

With no book to look through, or person to talk to, I couldn't help but turn to myself.

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

I knew who was talking and I didn't even question why I was hearing his voice. Why I had that prickly feeling on my skin that told me someone was sitting right next to me. His words sent my hairs on end like they always did when he laced each syllable with such poison.

But the way he said it now was different to before... it was calmer, almost soft.

"They do say that guilt can have a physical effect, as well as mentally."