A/N: Alright this one goes out to my best friend ( madyjones ) who was on my ass all night making sure I finished this chapter. Thanks, Love (even though you're a pain in the behind about the updates I still love ya!).
Tonight was my first nightmare free rest for as long as I could remember. I was woken up by Rick opening the cell door with a loud creek, "Sorry, Diana. I just came to drop off a towel. There's a shower down the hall a ways. It's got warm water, but not much so go easy on it. If you need some extra clothes, Lori offered some. She said they'd fit you." With that he slightly nodded and headed out.
Did he just say they had running water? I grabbed the towel, my back pack, and my bow and took off. I never go anywhere without it nowadays. I went through two cell blocks and could see the door to the showers. I quickened my pace to a sprint, wanting to feel running water for the first time since all this. Right at the entrance I could see the showers then, BAM!
Sprawled across the floor I looked up to see Daryl steadying himself with the door frame. He had a wet mop of sandy hair and a change of new clothing on, "I'm so sorry..." I trailed off hoping he wouldn't scream at me.
He just chuckled, "First time with running water?" he raised an eyebrow.
Surprised that he hadn't stormed off yet, I replied with a smile, "Yeah."
His lips showed a slight phantom of a smile while he dropped his duffle and bent over to help retrieve all the items in my bag that had spewed out during our collision. Nothing imortant had escaped my bag but I hurried up and returned it all to its previous state of being.
"Here," he said softer than his usual gruff voice. He looked down at the teared T-shirt and forced a smile, "Nice shirt."
"Uhh... thanks?" I offered.
"You're very welcome." he smiled cheekily.
I scoffed knowing his type.
"What're ya laughin' at?"
"Nothin' just... you," with that I gently pushed past him, and into the shower room.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
I was never good at writing or analyzing poetry. I mean no one should know what's going on in someone else's head anyway. I say mind your own damn business. The curtains aren't blue to reflect the tone, they're blue because they're fucking blue. You never really appreciate things until they're gone. I remember a short poem from my high school American Literature class by Emily Dickinson.
Water, is taught by thirst.
Land—by the Oceans passed.
Transport—by throe—
Peace—by its battles told—
Love, by Memorial Mold—
Birds, by the Snow.
This was the first time poetry has made sense to me. Right now, in this shower room. My God, did this shower feels good. The hot water softly, but rapidly beating down on my skin, the hot steam clearing my throat and nose, and the feel of soap going through my hair was complete bliss. Ten days. That was the last time I'd had the chance to stop and thoroughly wash my hair. It's been too crazy to do anything other than dip my head in a stream while passing through. Four days since even that.
I turned off the water, toweled myself off with the one Rick had given me earlier this morning, and slipped into a tank top that was formerly white but now a dirty cream color and pair of jeans that were ripped out in the knees and pretty much shredded down the legs. I had only grabbed five shirts and two pairs of jeans before I took off to get away from those ranks. The rest of the room in my back pack was filled with important things. I had a water purification kit, a bunch of MRE's, matches, a piece of flint and steal, a canteen, a sleeping bag, arrows, and of course my bow. Now I was down to three matches, an empty water purification kit with only half a canteen of water left, one MRE, my sleeping bag that was more rat holes than cloth, and worn down flint and steel. My bow still functional and beautiful as ever. With about ten carved arrows. Maybe I'll go for a supply run today.
