𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 ➪ «𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛»

ch. XLIII pt. II

oOo

Diana sighed and rubbed her temples with almost too much force as if wanting to hurt her headache back. She plopped down onto the foldable chair in front of her tent and drained her water canteen like it was a desert summer day.

Lori had just come to her for 'professional' advice, opening with the line "I'm pregnant." That had given her flashbacks to when Amy had come to her for counsel on the same topic. And Diana had been just as lost as back then.

And then she'd told her honest opinion, which hadn't been much to Lori's delight. She'd told her to think hard and logically about it, to look at the world around her. Was that the world she wanted to bring a baby into? Not to mention the complications she or the fetus might suffer from malnutrition, dehydration, and, to be honest, the woman was almost unhealthily thin. Had she birthed Carl normally? No, Lori had told her; a C-section. Which had only proven Diana's point further.

In the beginning, it had seemed she was ready to agree with her, but she took a 180° turn and scowled at her. She threw in her face that she was only saying such things because she didn't understand the joys of motherhood, of feeling the baby growing inside of her, knowing she'd created life.

Diana hadn't said anything, mostly because it was true, but also because in the midst of those words of frustration, she'd glimpsed her future. She was motherless and fatherless, but she might also remain childless for the rest of her life. It saddened her to the core, a dull pain atop all the aches in her chest.

She was happy not to be a mother yet; she was young and completely, totally not ready, but she had had plans. Finish nursing school – a goal she would have fulfilled before next summer -, travel the world, move out of her parents' house. Maybe have a boyfriend or girlfriend along the way, marry when the time was right and have children – two of them because those first five years of sibling-less life had been the loneliest she'd ever experienced. Basically, everything tied neatly with a ribbon.

As the Americans say: a white-picket-fence kind of life.

So naïve and unattainable. Another life to mourn.

She found Rick sitting on the porch when she meant to go to the bathroom to wash her face free of invisible tears. His light, bloodshot eyes scrutinized her as she batted her hands at her wet lashes, cleaning up evidence. But he said nothing, for which she was grateful.

She walked past him to her original destination, and when she came back outside, he seemed to have been waiting for her. Diana wondered if he knew about Lori's pregnancy but kept shut about it. Not her news to tell.

Rick invited her to sit next to him, saying he had some news to tell her. Diana almost rolled her eyes externally. Internally, she definitely did. What was it with the Grimes today?

But she sat down dutifully. Knowing Rick, he wouldn't tell her something unimportant, and he wasn't one for idle gossip.

"I don't know how to begin," he began, elbows resting on his knees as he seemed to go over his thoughts to pick his words.

"No restraints or sugar-coating, Rick. I'm grown enough to hear whatever it is as it is."

He looked at her, the corner of his lips raised in a painfully small and sad smile.

"Hershel, he..." He cleared his throat, and Diana could almost guess what was coming. She still let him finish. "He's given us a deadline. The day we find Sophia, as soon as Carl gets better, he wants us gone."

Diana let the words roam in the air for a bit as if she was shocked. So, Glenn's observations had been correct. She hadn't expected anything less from him and his keen eyes, but to hear confirmation to that theory was disheartening.