Not Far

Chapter 21: Hurt

A/N

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Part 2 of the story is here... and in 3RD PERSON! Because Jean's an unreliable narrator, as we will soon find out! This Chapter is a bit violent soooo ya know. If you think it's too intense then skip.

  Jean woke up to silence, which, to say the least, was still rather alarming for her. Normally there was some sort of commotion around her, be it Owen or another member of their group, but like the past several weeks, she was alone. She sat up and pushed the sheets off of her, sighing as she did so. The hurt of Owen's death was still there, looming over her as she tried to go about her day. She would never say anything about him (or the fact that his body was stashed in the next room), but he was always on her mind. Him. And Pam. And the rest of the group. Everyone she let down.

She walked around her room, gathering her clothes and such and straighten up her space. She looked at a pair of shorts that were hanging from the door between her room and the one hosting Owen's body. They, despite being black, were extremely dirty. Dried blood decorated the fabric in splatters. Jean turned away from them and placed her sledgehammer in the corner of the room, near the foot of her bed.

Her name was still clearly carved into the handle, in that same, messy, yet charming, craftsmanship that Owen seemed to have mastered. Jean smiled at it before turning around. Her smile immediately faded.

"Hey pup." He stated nonchalantly. Jean turned back to face the wall, her eyes squeezed tightly.

"You're not here." She stuttered. He stepped closer to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Jean still refused to look at him. His hand traced up her neck and along her jawline as he pushed her head in his direction.

"You still haven't done it." He said, disappointedly. Jean smiled bitterly at him.

"Only cause I know it'll protect me. We still don't know if the walkers getting loose was an accident or not. There could still be another huntress out there, and I'm not risking us over it." Jean stated, lowering her hands to her abdomen. Owen grabbed her hands and brought them in front of her.

"You have to do it." He said, this time more forcefully. Jean shook her head.

"No. No not again." She muttered. He stared at her, emotionless, as she began to cry again.

"Please." He did not budge.

"Please. Please just leave me alone. You aren't real!" She shouted, trying to tear away from his grasp, but he grabbed her waist and tugged her along, toward the door.

"You have to do it! If you love me, you'll do it!" These words she had heard from him millions of times. All the horrendous things she'd done, all the sacrifices she had to make... everything. All of it came back to those seven little words. Even the hallucination Owen used it against her.

He pulled her through the door and into his tomb, where the bathroom was located. Jean gripped onto anything she could, including the sheets that covered his body. All of these efforts, however, would prove fruitless. He threw her into the bathroom, slamming her into the wall like he'd done a million times before when he was alive. She tried to crawl away, but he stood near the door and kicked it closed when she got too close to it. He gripped her hair and tugged her to her feet before throwing her onto the sink.

Jean caught herself and pushed herself up slightly, gazing at herself in the mirror in the process. Owen stood behind her, but his form was blurred. Jean sniffled and wiped away the blood that trickled down her nose. He bent down and unsheathed Jean's combat knife before handing it to her.