Don't Leave Me -DISCONTINUED/READ NEWEST CHAPTER-

Drowning

I feel like I'm drowning. 

The pressure on my chest is so great that I feel like wheezing.  

Jaqui.

Dale.

Jim.

Hershel.

Jimmy.

Patricia.

Beth's missing.

Amy.

Andrea.

I choke on my sobs as Maggie stitches the wound on my shoulder. 

Nobody says anything to me. 

I shy away from every touch except Maggie's who was cleaning my wound. 

The sweater was useless, stained and stiff with dried blood. 

It was discarded, leaving me with Carl's coat that he offered me. 

My limbs hurt from walking and I lag behind the rest of the group. 

I don't want to be carried. I don't want to be held. 

I want my sister. 

"Wanna lift?" Abraham questioned, looking down at me. 

I don't answer him, eyes on my old shoes. 

Andrea got me the shoelaces on a run. They are blue, just like my backpack. 

Now they are frayed, caked with dirt and blood. 

But I still see them as the same bright blue that they once were. 

I can feel Michonne's eyes on me every so often but they would dart away when I look up at her.

She was the last one with Andrea. She knew my nickname. 

I stop walking, tears prickling at the corner of my eyes. 

"I can't." My voice is a tiny whisper but Abraham hears it. 

"Hold up!" He calls out, causing the group to stop walking. 

I can feel everybody staring at me. 

"Are you hurting?" Glenn questioned. 

I nod. 

"Where are you hurting?" Glenn coaxed, kneeling in front of me. 

I bring my hand up to my chest, right where my beating heart is. 

Glenn sighs. "I know, buddy." 

"No more." I whisper and Glenn perks up at my voice. 

"No more, what? No more walking?" Glenn questioned. 

"It's not safe here." Rick tells me. "Abraham could carry you, or Glenn-" 

I turn and point to Michonne. 

"You want Michonne to carry you?" Glenn makes sure that he understands. 

I nod. 

"No." Michonne denies it immediately. 

"Why don't I carry you." Glenn offers. 

I shake my head. "'Chonne." I shortened her name. 

Glenn looks at Michonne. "Please?" 

Michonne shakes her head. 

"Just for a few minutes." Tara begs. "He's ill." 

"He's the size of a five year old." Eugene offers. "And he's underweight."