Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 6: Consumed

I curse myself for not stocking up on more non-perishables. Thankfully, aside from tomato paste, I have a few cans of Spiderman-shaped noodles in tomato sauce stashed away in my pathetic little pantry. I had forgotten how tiny this apartment truly is. The kitchen and the living room are basically the same space, with the bedroom and bathroom the only outliers.

It was all I needed back then.

"You need Tylenol?" I ask, holding the bottle out to Carol as she settles on my couch.

She nods as she takes it. "Yeah."

I gather a can opener, a pot, and some bowls before getting to work on the Spiderman noodle soup. I almost want to crack jokes about not having had company over, ever, but the mood still feels too dour for that. Maybe if Daryl were awake, I'd try. Maybe if my shoulder wasn't aching.

I test my stove. It's a gas stove, and when I turn the burner on, I hear a faint hiss, but no clicking. I sigh and turn it off again, retrieving the lighter from Daryl's bag. A quick flick of flame near the stream of gas and the burner switches on. Eureka.

I set the pot on top and stir the slightly congealed mess of bright red pasta slurry, humming to myself. For a second, I can almost pretend that nothing has changed, and I'm making myself a cheap meal after a long day of work.

"We're a few blocks from Grady," Carol says, snapping me back to reality. "Once he's ready to go, we should head back that way, see what we can see."

I nod. "Agreed."

The soup starts to bubble and my stomach growls. Once it's nice and hot, I turn off the stove, divvy the soup into two bowls, and bring one out to Carol. I flop next to her on the couch, staring at the blank TV as I cup the bowl in my lap.

She stares at the food for a second before her lip twitches. "I used to buy these for Sophia. The princess ones," she says.

I smile a little. "There's something about fun shapes that makes it taste better."

She scoops some up, blowing lightly on it.

"Hey," I say. She makes a noncommittal noise. "You said...you and Daryl aren't who you were. Do...do you think I've changed too?"

She lets the spoon drop back into the bowl, mouthful left untouched. She sighs. "It's...different with you."

"How?"

She shrugs. "With Daryl, it's...like he was a kid. Now he's a man." She looks at me and her lips purse as she studies my face. "When I see you, I still...see the person I met at the quarry."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Sometimes, I think it is."

It stings, but I'm not about to let that sit. "Why?"

"I don't know. You confuse me."

I don't want to sound like a child, pestering her for answers, so I bite my tongue against another why or how. Instead, I ask, "What about you, then?" I know how I've seen her change, but maybe she sees herself differently.

"Me and Sophia stayed at that shelter for a day and a half before I went running back to Ed," she says. "I went home, I got beat up, life went on and...I just kept praying for something to happen. But I didn't do anything. Not a damn thing. Who I was with him...she got burned away. And I was happy about that. I mean, not happy, but..."

She stirs her soup, lips pursing, and I lean back against the cushions. There's a part of me that's just glad she's talking to me and not around me.

"And at the prison, I got to be who I always thought I should be, thought I should've been. And then she got burned away. Everything now just...consumes you." She looks up, towards the windows, towards the bedroom. "But not you. You have this...insane ability to hold onto yourself, and I don't..."