Captive | The Walking Dead |

5

            

"How could you! How could you just value those guns over me?" Isabella slammed her fist on the desk, across from Guillermo.

He rolled his eyes and huffed. "I didn't. But dammit Isabella, we needed those guns."

"You needed guns more than your fucking sister?" she growled, looking into his eyes.

"Isabella, please. Just calm down a bit, you're overreacting." He sighed.

"Maybe I am, but I know I would do anything to get you back if we lost you," she folded her arms and sat on the chair behind her.

"Isabella, you know I love you," Guillermo sighed, getting up and walking towards her.

She ignored him and stared at the floor.

She knew she was overreacting, but she didn't care anymore.

She was pissed, and she wanted to piss him off too.

"Sure," she scoffed and bent down, picking up her crossbow.

"Isabella," he sighed, and began pacing.

"Dammit, I do all this for you. I keep this place safe, make sure the guys keep an eye out for you when you go on runs, and I've kept you alive."

"I've kept myself alive," she snarls at him.

"Isabella, I went through everything to keep you safe. I did all that to get you back from those men for Christ sake!"

"I should have never stayed," she looked up at him.

He froze. "You don't mean that."

"Of course I do. If I hadn't stayed, none of this would have happened. I'd be long gone from here, and out who knows where. Alone and alive." She rolls her eyes.

"You wouldn't have gotten more than five feet without me," he gets in her face.

Oh really.

He huffs and walks away from her, and continues to pace.

She bit her tongue at what she was about to say.

She wanted to tell him, but not like this.

But she wanted to piss him off, and she knew how.

She sucked in a breath before gained her posture and straightened her back.

"Thomás hit me."

And that was enough to send Guillermo over the edge.

He froze and whipped around to face her. "What?"

"My scar," she put a finger on her cheek. "He hit me."

Guillermo growled and threw a stack of papers off his desk.

"How?" he turned to her.

"He was drunk, and hit me with his beer bottle," she stood up.

He ran his hand over his stubby hair. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I didn't know how to," she shrugged.

He growled and turned to his desk, flipping it.

He pointed to the door without looking at her. "Get out."

She grinned at his reaction and scurried out the room, clutching her crossbow.

The door slammed shut behind her and she soon heard yelling and things being thrown around.