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ADELINE had bandaged herself up with supplies she had found in Morgan's apartment, and it wasn't long before she read the writings on the wall that told her what the man had been through. He lost his son. And alongside that, he lost his mind. Everything. That's when she had to leave, the guilt for not convincing Morgan and Duane to come with her and Rick when they left a year ago got to her.
That's why she stood where she was. Calloused and bloodstained hands wrapped around the white picket fence that surrounded what she used to call home. It looked significantly different, spikes and traps curled around the frontward - protecting it from the wrath of the apocalypse. Even after everything he had been through, in the midst of losing his mind, he set up traps around the house of the girl he barely knew.
Closing her eyes, Adeline pushed herself off of the fence before running a hand through her tangled hair. She eyed the house like it was blocking her from getting to her next point in life. Because it was. There was a part of her that wished her home had been burnt down like her brothers had, because maybe it would make it easier on her. Maybe it would let her accept the death of her husband. Maybe.
Letting a breath tainted with frustration, the widow slipped through the gate and made her way towards the white wooden door. Decorative translucent glass framed the door, her boots smacking against the steps leading into her home. Adeline took a step towards the door and held her hand out to the knob. Her hand trembled, shaking uncontrollably as she sucked in a deep breath in attempts to calm her nerves. Cursing underneath her breath, she curled her fingers into a fist before stretching them back out and opening the door.
The smell of cinnamon was gone. It was the first thing she noticed, her figure reluctantly entering the home and shutting the door in her steps. Taking a look around, a sudden force of familiarity slammed into the empty pit of her stomach; racking her body with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. She felt frozen, her skin running cold as her umber colored eyes fell to the wooden floorboards.
Feeling her throat tighten and her eyes sting, a shaky breath tumbled from her chapped lips. Adeline allowed her hand to trail up her chest and to her neck, wrapping her fingers around the necklace that curled against her neck. Tracing the 22 pendant, she slowly regained her composure and raised her head from the floor, her eyes settling upon the familiar setting of the living room.
Taking a step forward, the widow walked into the depths of her and her husbands home. The pictures that hung from the wall haunted her, eyes completely avoiding the images as she slipped past them and into the kitchen.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty." The soft voice of her husband greeted her tired figure, his frame leaning against the island counter with a steaming coffee cup clutched in his grasp.
