"I may have saved her from the monsters that crawl through the dark, but she saved me from the worst monster of all. She rescued me from who I would have become without her, the monster that would have easily conquered my body."
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Reese Chambler...
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THE DARK WOOD rolls loosely between my chapped fingers. I scrap a nail down the length of the cue, feeling the cracks and dents all over it. It's been used well, anyone could tell just by glancing at it. Dried blood flakes off of the wood and spots the back of my hand in random patterns. The deep crimson color strikes in contrast against my dulled skin.
My eyes flick back to the tip of the cue. The original tip of the stick, the one that I sharpened with my knife, broke off long ago, leaving only a jagged, uneven stake at the top of the cue. Though it may not be as sleek as it used to be, I like to believe that this cue is much more dangerous now than it was before. The streaks of glistening red liquid running down the length of it proves that.
I take the damp rag off of the kitchen table I am sitting by and continue to wipe the tip of the stick as the door to the trailer swings open. Though my innards jump at the sudden sound, my body remains motionless. Maggie's figure is almost completely washed out as the sun shining in from around her is blinding. She takes a deep breath, and while removing her cap to wipe her sweaty forehead, she plops down onto the couch that Sasha sleeps on.
I do not take my eyes off of my task, but in my peripheral vision I can see Maggie. Her head is tilted back and her eyes are closed. She is rubbing her stomach, but I suspect that she doesn't even realize she is doing so. My heart stings for her, though I don't let her know that. I have been here at the Hilltop for a few days now, but I haven't found the courage to speak to Maggie about anything other than my empathy for Glenn. I know she is a friendly and kind woman, but there is still a part of me that feels guilty for not being able to help her when she needed me. If they didn't have to venture to the Hilltop that night, Glenn and Abraham wouldn't have gotten killed.
"Hey," Maggie's voice suddenly pulls me out of my head. I find that I have dropped the rag onto the floor of Paul's trailer and that I am staring blankly at the wall.
"Hi, Mrs. Rhee," I say with a little grunt as I fold my body over to reach the rag by my feet.
"Is Judy down for her nap?" She asks. I nod my head, not looking at her. I know she can sense my discomfort, but instead of hating me for it, she smiles.
"I've only ever played billiards once," She says in a drawl that is much slower than usual. When I look over to her, I find that she is staring at the cue in my hand as if it were a distant memory that she is trying to hold onto. The few fleeting seconds of her reminiscing are cut off as her eyes snap back to meet mine. She sighs and forces a smile upon her lips.
"When I was just a little older than you, I snuck out one night to meet a boy from my high school. He took me to a bar in town, the same one my daddy used to drink at, and we played a bit of pool."
Though it is somewhat fake, I smile along with Maggie. It is not even my memory, yet it still makes me sad to think about how the world used to be. We are never going to be like that again, so there is no use in remembering. Remembering only brings pain when the nostalgia quickly wears off. Maggie continues anyway, wanting for a few seconds to stay under the influence of memory before it all come crashing back down around her.
