Angel With A Shotgun. [ Carl Grimes ]

~*Home Sweet Home*~

Chapter Eighteen: Home Sweet Home
[warning: contains memories of abuse and self harm]

Laedi's Point of View

My eyes open, only to be greeted by blinding sunlight. I snap them shut once more and furrow my eyebrows due to the intense headache that it has triggered. I attempt to sit up and stand but was immediately held back by handcuffs. This seems familiar... 

   "Back to square one, huh." A voice said. I looked to my right and saw an old man with white hair and a friendly smile. Hershel. 

I smile back at him. But one look at the metal crutch in his arms set memories flying through my brain. A metal cane hitting my back, metal razors slitting my skin open. Oh god, it's too much. I flinch back into the darkness of the bunk as my breathing pattern went all over the place and my vocal cords felt constricted by my father's hand just as it did a few years ago. I scream for help and in that moment, at that dining room, it came out as nothing but a whisper. But in the prison, it echoed off of the walls and caused everyone to race up to my cell. A man with a crossbow runs in and grabs one of my arms. Another with a sheriff's hat grabs my right one and holds me down. Though this one looks younger, more familiar. He looks at me with worried eyes and dark circles under them. I feel something sting and sink in my chest but I can't really pinpoint as to why.

"What happened to her?" I look behind the boy with piercing blue to see someone who looks somewhat related to him because of the same worried expression plastered on his face. "It must be a side effect," Hershel replies. "No sleep and certain triggering thoughts could be the reason why she's acting like this." 

     "And what're the other side effects?" The man with the crossbow interrupts, letting go of me, making the boy let go of me as well.

"Slight memory loss. Erratic behavior. Hopefully it wears off in a few days." Hershel mutters under his breath. 

   "A few days? What do you mean a few days?" The boy turns his back to me in order to confront the newly found information. The silence that follows is more drawn out than it's supposed to be. "Come on, Carl. How about we go and make some lunch." A woman that was silently leaning against the doorway of my cell enters and puts her hand on the boy's shoulder. She escorts him out as the man with the crossbow gives her a nod and a "Thanks, Carol." 

He looks towards Hershel who was still conversing with—what I assumed to be—the boy's father and said, "Let me know if you guys need anything. " He glances at me and sends a kind smile my way. "Hope you get better, kiddo." And with that, he exits the cell as well. I hope so too.

I remain crouched against the bed frame, the cold metal poking at the now prominent bones under my skin due to not having a full meal for a week. My attempts to ignore the memories that come with this feeling are poor. Instead, I try to eavesdrop on the conversation that is happening right in front of me. "Rick, she needs medicine. There's a gunshot wound on her shoulder and her behavior isn't any better. She's not going to recover from this if we can't find her some." Hershel keeps his voice down as to not attract people who might overhear. "I told you, there isn't a single drug store near the prison. We can't just send people out without them knowing where to go." Rick replied. They've clearly been arguing about this matter for a while. "It's for Laedi. She isn't just a member of the group anymore, Rick, she's a member of the family." Hershel countered in a soothing voice. He acted calm even though what was happening was the complete opposite. 

     Rick looked at me and turned his attention back to Hershel. "Fine," He breathed, his eyes softening. "We'll get it by sundown." He spun on his heel and leaves the cell without another word. Hershel sighs, sitting down by my feet and says, "Don't worry, Laedi. You're strong, you're a fighter. Better get some rest." He stands up and slowly walks towards the doorway. "You earned it." He says over his shoulder. And with one last apologetic look, he closed the cell and locked me in.