Don't Leave Me

Chapter Eleven

"Andrew!"

Lori kneels next to me, brushing the tears from my face, forgetting about the ones on her own.

"It's okay, baby." She tells me, pulling me into her for a tight hug.

She lifts me off the steps of the porch and I begin to cry into her shirt.

I cry for Sophia, for her death.

I cry for Carol, for her loss.

I cry for Carl, for losing his best friend.

I cry for the Greene family, for losing their loved ones.

I cry for Daryl, for his injuries.

And finally, I allow myself to cry for me.

I allow myself to cry for the pain I've endured.

I allow myself to cry for everyone, dead and alive.

I allow myself to cry for my illness and uselessness.

I allow myself to cry.

"It's okay, baby. Let it out." Lori soothes, rocking me as tears pour out.

I don't know how long I cried but by the time I finally stopped, the sun was setting.

"Are you done?" Lori questioned softly.

I nod, letting out a hiccup.

"I'm sorry." I croak out, my voice was hoarse.

"Don't be." Lori shushes as I lay my head on her chest.

We had taken up residence in one of the rocking chairs that were on the porch.

"Lori, I need your help," Maggie tells Lori as she exits.

"What's wrong?" Lori could tell that Maggie had a sense of urgency.

"My father's gone and Beth is ill," Maggie tells Lori. "Could you please come to take a look at her? I can take Andrew."

Lori lets Maggie lift me from her lap as they go inside.

I watch as Lori takes a look at Beth.

Beth was pale, white as a sheet. She had sweat on her face and was shaking.

I wrap my left arm around Maggie's neck as I place my right one in my mouth.

"Where did Hershel go?" I mumble around my thumb.

Hershel didn't like to be called Mr. or Mr. Greene. Just Hershel.

"I don't know. Rick and Glenn went to find him." Maggie tells me.

That must have been what Lori was talking to Rick about while I cried.

"She's in shock. She must have been getting sick and the... events that just transpired was just a little too much." Lori announces.

Maggie sets me on the full-sized bed next to Beth.

"Bethie," I muttered, playing with her hair, twirling it around in my bandaged hands.

I liked to play with Beth's hair. It was long and pretty.

Beth's hand reached up and clasped onto him, weaving her fingers into the spaces between mine.

"I'm here, Bethie," I tell her, squeezing her hand.