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The morning sun peeked through the thin sheet covering her cell door, bags of exhaustion resting underneath her eyes from the night watch she had taken last night after her brothers freak out. When questioning the survivors to figure out if they were trustworthy enough to live next to them, Rick nearly let them stay until he broke out into a fit of raging anger.
When they were forced to leave and Rick was pushed further down the road of insanity, it left the group in a state of disarray. Glenn and Adeline stepped up to the plate of leadership in order to keep things steady and as normal as they could be. But with the missing presence of Daryl Dixon, it was unexpectedly difficult for the widow to get her mind straight.
Adeline missed the comfort of her machete by her side, but then a wave of relief fell onto her when she knew that it would aid the Dixon in surviving. Daryl had told her stories of Merle, and tales of his life before the world went to shit and humanity crumbled. The widow knew that he had a troubled past, how his father treated the two brothers. Of course, Daryl never said it outright, but the moment her caramel eyes rested upon the scares on his back, she knew. Which made her come back to the understanding of why he left.
After the Governor, her nights had become restless. They were filled with the memories of what he had done to her, the places he touched while she begged him not to. It haunted every voice in her mind, a serpent's tongue resting in the inside of her mouth for the next time she saw the man's face. Though biting his ear off gave her a taste of revenge, she knew that the satisfaction wouldn't be filled until he was one of the rotting corpses clinging to the fences outside.
Having enough of her thoughts, Adeline ran a hand through her tangled hair before sitting up from the mattress. Grabbing her boots, she slipped them onto her sock covered feet before pushing herself off of the makeshift bed. The moment her boots cladded with the concrete, Adeline tightened her holster for her pistol on her thigh and strapped the sheath of throwing knives in their rightful place.
The metal of the sleek black pistol skidded against the surface of the table as she took it in her grasp and slid it into the holster. The widow messily tied her hair into a ponytail before placing her husbands' police cap over her thick hair, skimming her eyes over the outfit she wore. A light blue button-up resided on her arms, open just above her rib cage to reveal a tank top underneath, a pair of tan cargo pants fitted her legs - a belt tightened around the loops.
Realization of who she looked like caused a quiet laugh to crawl out of her throat, the clothes resembling one of Shane's infamous outfits. Adeline quickly ran a hand over her face, wiping away the smile before slipping out of the cell and deeper into the prison where she hoped to find her family. Her boots cladded against the thick concrete of the steps, following the sound of voices from within the room outside of the cell block.
