intact ➵ beth is alive

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The first thing she remembers is him, when she wakes.
She remembers his eyes, telling her what he couldn't form with words at the funeral home.
She remembers almost leaving Grady, his hand on her shoulder and she's shaking with joy and she can't wait to talk to her sister and the rest of her newfound family, and in the late hours of the night when everyone's asleep except the two of them, and they can finally talk, finally tell and confide.
She remembers understanding, she remembers getting it then, the scissors she concealed now shining in Dawn's shoulder.

That was it.

Now, though, now she's awake. She's in a hospital bed and there's IV's in her arms, and she feels incredibly weak but she's ever so alive, she feels it. Her heart beating and thumping and alive.
And she's baffled, because didn't she leave? Why was she here again--did they leave her? What had happened in those seconds after the scissors hit Dawn, that confused her, but she'd find a way out, she'd question everything later. She felt drowsy and tired and weak, but she was alive.

➵

This time when she wakes, there's a set of eyes behind some glasses staring back at her. It's a familiar face, one who she was always weary of when she was at Grady. Other than Noah, it was he who she didn't trust, didn't rely on, but saw, saw for answers.
Edwards was Edwards; there was no clear way around explaining who he was or his personality in general. He was a coward when it came to the real world, but he was a hell of a surgeon, as he had had Beth's life in his hands and she's breathing well on her own now.
"Actually, very simple. The bullet scraped the side of your skull. Nothing cracked, just a small groove in it, really."
Beth still isn't talking, she's quiet. Observant. Listening.
"Another scar, you have quite the collection of those, though, huh? But uh, barely any blood loss. You could be up and running within this day, if you've been out there that long. You're tough."
"Why are you helpin' me?" She asks. She hears her voice waver in confusion.
"They left and you had a pulse, Beth."
They left.
"You uh, seem confused. I'll explain from the beginning--well, wait, what do you remember?"
She reaches up and touches her cheek, touches her scar. Raised skin and angry lines, jutting out like they had purpose. As if they were screaming and wanted to be heard, wanted to tell how they got there despite how she wants them to disappear, how she wants to pull the stitching apart and fix herself all on her own. How she wants Daryl to come and hold her, hug her like she hugged him, hold her hand like how he once did. How she wants him to run back all the way over here and find her, carry her out and have her.
She's made it out and she doesn't need this, she doesn't. She's perfectly capable on her own and she can survive, she is tough, but it's still okay if she doesn't want too when she finds him again.
She will find him again.
"I stabbed Dawn."
Edwards nods, pursing his lips.
"Yeah. Trigger finger, that's Dawn. Itching to shoot, but it was an accident, really. Shock from the impact of the scissors. I mean, tiny scissors, Beth, should've seen them. I mean, you probably did, but, uh..." He trails off, as if he hasn't got a clue on what to say next.
She furrows her eyebrows. All about Dawn, she couldn't give a shit if she tried.
"She shot you. Bullet skimmed your brain, since it was at so low down but aimed kinda like this," he stood to recreate how Dawn stood with the gun. Down by her waist, her hip, really, just a tiny bit higher but angled and pointed up so high, it had actually made sense. "Ah, anyways, you collapsed, and she's looking around like she's afraid, trying to say it was an accident, but this big guy from your group, long dark hair, crossbow, he shot her square in the head. Dawn, she's a goner, didn't even bother trying with her."
Daryl. Of course it was Daryl.
Her eyes well with tears and it's unintentional, it really is, and she refuses to cry in front of someone so weak, because she's strong and that's her image. Scars and bullet holes and strong and tough, that's what Daryl would say, after all he's taught her, after she makes it back and finds him.
Edwards reaches across to pluck a tissue from a floral box, and passes it to Beth.
"Yeah. You went through a lot-"
"I'm not cryin' because I was shot, dumbass." She hisses, angrily snatching the tissue. "The man I was with--I mean, the man that shot Dawn. Is he here?"
His face changes, and he suddenly makes a connection and his soften face turns sad, almost.
"Carried you out himself. Sobbing, everyone's crying but he, wooh, he was crying the hardest. Shaking, almost dropped you, but he held on like you were a doll."
He's incoherently passing more tissues and she's swiping them away with her tears.
"I watched from the window, just in shock from what happened. But, uh, a herd of those infected things came along and they were gonna bury you, but they couldn't. So they left you in a trunk so that you wouldn't turn into one of those dead guys. It passed, though, they were following your group. So I ran out down there, first time I'd seen daylight in a while, thanks, and me and a few officers jammed that trunk open and believe it or not my friend, you had a pulse. Uh, that's it, really. Don't know where your group's headed, but Noah went with."
Her mind is wiring with thoughts, with Daryl and with her family and with Daryl, and she's alive and she needs to get to Daryl.