𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]

[58]: crossfire

Taking the silver can in my hands, I turned it round in my palms, searching the worn label. Colours faded, and a dent in it, I swallowed heavily from the growing hunger in my stomach. Each day we had to eat whatever we could find, testing packages that were out of date - everything stale, and hard.

I was surprised my pallet could tell the difference between anything anymore; everything was the same. There was no sense of individuality in the world anymore, no colour, no entertainment. It was a constant reminder that the whole world had changed, and the old one was never coming back.

I sighed heavily, dropping the can into my backpack. "Not much here," my voice cracked. I turned on my heel towards Laura, who faced away from me her back hunched forward. She nodded, looking over her shoulder for a moment as she gathered boxes of kid plasters from the shelves in front of her.

We were put into silence again, keeping our ears open to anything dangerous. We had Rick at the front of the shop, gun risen, and Daryl walking around.

As he passed my mind, the man came into my view, walking to the end of the aisle. We reflected each other's tired glances, gravitating towards each other.

"How much more have we got?" I whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear and zipping up my bag.

"Not too many," he looked over my head and at Laura, eyeing her carefully before patting me on the shoulder and turning around. I watched him walk away from me and out of sight, before spinning on my heel.

Laura was now facing me, sniffing inwards as she rubbed her red nose - one we had all acquired over the winter. Along with coats heavy with rain, sodden boots, torn clothes. Everything was make do, and it was hard to replace something so low on our list of priorities.

"Finished?" I asked quietly, ready to leave the store that held little to nothing.

She didn't answer, except turning to look away from me. We hadn't been the same way, forever. She couldn't accept that it wasn't ever going to be the same again. She was naive. Laura even had the audacity to say "when this is all over."

You didn't have to be as cynical as me to realise that was never going to be the case. We had already experienced the trouble of trying to convince Hershel and his family that the end was no longer coming, it was here. I was too tired to try and do it again.

"I'm trying, okay?" Her voice struck me, as I didn't expect her to speak to me. Many things had become a part of my life, and unfortunately, these short abrasive conversations between me and my ex-girlfriend were one of them. "I'm trying to get over you."

I looked at her wide-eyed, bringing a hand up to scratch my head for a moment. I felt the need to just step back and let her brew in whatever she was feeling because her mere presence still made me feel sick.

My eyes closed. "I can't do anything to help," I didn't know why we always whispered when we went on runs, or whenever I had a conversation. The world was quiet enough now that we could whisper everything to each other, like secrets, like stories.

"I know you can't," she said quickly, going to walk past me before taking a moment to look me up and down. "I just-" she bit her tongue. "You don't realise how hard it is to get over you, do you?"

It sounded like she was telling me off for... existing. And her height compared to my own was slightly unnerving. But I knew she couldn't lay a hand on me without hating herself.

"Trust me," I tilted my head. "It's very easy to think you're a piece of shit when you're me, so I really don't understand how hard you are finding it."

"Marley, you make people get real close to you."

"I don't make people do anything," I hissed, suddenly feeling a bubbling anger grow up in my throat as my words came out as one long underlining threat. "You can't move on, that's your own fault."