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Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OC
A/N: The stories will follow the show's timeline only partially, many characters will have different stories than the original ones.
Some characters, places or events do not correspond to the TV show, I am only granted some "licenses".
I don't own any rights to TWD or its characters, scene or original dialogue.
I own only Summer and the main plot of the story, do not copy or use without permission.
English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for every mistake.
Especially the ones you'll find in Daryl's speech.
Writing using a southern accent is something I don't do very well and I hope you can understand me and even help me sometimes.
Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Warnings: For anyone who has seen The Walking Dead knows exactly how the show works and what kind of crude topics are often shown.
I already warn you that each of my chapters will contain a different trigger that will not be reported at the beginning of the chapter so anyone who doesn't feel comfortable with these topics is better not reading my story.
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The sun is now setting and Glenn and I are returning to the farm.
I close my eyes trying to fight the headache that minute after minute seems to destroy my every single neuron.
I sigh overwhelmed with frustration.
“Please, Glenn.Don't... don't start again”
I'm sorry for being so rude and I know he's just trying to help me but he really doesn't understand the crux of the matter.
I don't want to get anyone in trouble.
I'm the new one, the stranger.
What right do I have to start a discussion that I'm sure would degenerate?
“What does it mean don't start again?We need to talk to someone else about this.With Rick.Maybe with Daryl” he sketches a suggestion.
“No!” I snap violently at the sound of the archer's name.
No.
Not him.
“Listen to me carefully” I reply, trying to appear calmer than I actually am.
I return my gaze to my friend, his dark eyes full of concern make my heart ache.
It's touching to see how a man who was a stranger five days ago is now so worried about me.
I soften my gaze placing my hand on his knee, squeezing it gently.
“Listen Glenn.I don't want any of you to go against Shane.That man, I don't know, there's something wrong with him.I understood it from the first moment...but I can't put other people in danger.Think about Lori, think about this child.Would you dare risk Shane losing his mind?And then do you honestly really believe that others can believe me?After all, Shane took care of you.He kept all of you alive”
At the end my words become a whisper.
Shane did a lot for this group before Rick came back.
Glenn shakes his head without taking his eyes off the road.
With his right hand he takes off his hat and places it on the seat between us.
“Shane is not the same anymore.Rick's return changed something in him.And now I understand”
Yes.
With Rick's return, Shane has lost everything.
The leadership.
The control.
Lori.
I remain silent.
It's really a shitty situation.
“Lori and Shane often disappeared but honestly no one noticed, busy as we were trying to survive”
“You can't judge them, Glenn”
“I'm not doing that but now everything is clear.Shane had the power before Rick returned.Now he is no longer the leader.And it's wearing him down.God!Dale warned me but I didn't believe him”
His last words capture my full attention.
"What do you mean?"
For a moment Glenn's gaze goes back and forth between me and the road.
It's like he's deciding whether to trust me.
Then I see him sigh deeply, his chest heaving as if he's trying to fill his lungs to the full.
“Dale said he saw Shane point a gun at Rick's back”
Glenn shakes his head, his eyes seeming to be filled with something akin to shame.
“I didn't believe him, Summer.I didn't believe the man I consider a father.I told him that maybe he was wrong.And then…then there's more”
“What?” I ask still in shock from Glenn's revelation.
If Shane has come this far, what could possibly stop him if he thinks that I am a danger to his reputation?
“Otis” was his only response.
“Otis?The man who shot Carl?” I ask confused, unable to understand what Otis has to do with this whole situation.
“Yep!According to Dale, the beautiful story Shane told about Otis' heroic deed is all a sham.He and Dale had an argument, Dale confessed his doubts about him.That in his opinion things hadn't gone the way Shane told them.He told him he saw him point a gun at Rick.And do you know what Shane did?”
I shake my head unable to speak, I feel my breath getting stuck in my throat.
“He threatened him.He made it clear to him that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him”
Glenn grips the steering wheel angrily, his knuckles white with tension.
Fuck.
I'm fucked up.
We all are.
Shane is out of control.
Now I no longer have any doubts.
If that man sees me as a threat he will have no qualms about putting a bullet in my brain.
In front of us the outlines of the farm become increasingly clear.
It's time to make a decision.
“I'll have your back, no matter what, Sum, but I'm still convinced that if we keep quiet about Shane, we'll get to the point where it'll be too late”
I chew my lower lip until I feel it bleed.
I know he's right but I can't get the idea out of my mind that the moment we decide to talk will be the beginning of the end.
As long as these people are willing to believe me.
Maybe I should leave.
I should consider my initial idea...that is, disappear from these people's lives.
“Just give me some time to understand.Let's keep it to ourselves for now, okay?”
Glenn shakes his head in defeat without saying a word.
He's upset, I can feel it.
I feel anxiety eating away at every cell in my body.
Glenn doesn't look at me, he avoids my worried gaze.
Once we arrive we get out of the car and without saying a word we unload all the supplies we found.
It was a pretty lucky run, we found some blankets, some canned food and a few packs of Tylenol.
And I also have everything Lori asked me.
I observe the sun in the sky, now close to setting.
In just an hour it will be dark.
I wonder if Daryl is back yet.
I wonder if he's okay.
With a thousand thoughts in my head buzzing like a swarm of crazy bees I head towards Lori's tent, hoping to find her there and above all to find her alone.
When I'm a few steps away from my goal, Lori's head pops out of her tent and after taking a quick look around with one hand she signals me to come closer.
Her eyes are focused on the floor of the tent as I take a step inside.
Without talking I hand her a brown paper bag and without even giving her time to thank me I leave.
Damn the moment I got involved in this whole damn thing, I think angrily but regretting it almost immediately.
Poor Lori.
It's not her fault after all.
She finds herself in a situation that I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy.
Without wasting any more time I head towards Dale's RV.
The man is with Andrea, together they are on guard duty on the roof of the vehicle.
"Hello people!Have you seen Carol?” I ask, waving my hand.
The two exchange a strange look.
What happens?
“Today wasn't a good day for her” Dale explains to me.
“After breakfast she locked herself in here and she didn't want to come out” continues Andrea, indicating the vehicle with a gesture of her fingers.
Poor Carol.
I nod as I enter inside.
The first thing I notice is the order.
Everything is spotless.
The plates and glasses shine, all lined up and tidy in the small kitchen.
It doesn't even feel like the same place I left this morning.
I walk towards the back of the RV and Carol is sitting on the bed.
Her eyes are red and swollen, a sign that not long ago, she was crying.
“Hey” I whisper, accompanying my greeting with a faint smile.
I rest my shoulder on the door frame crossing my arms across my chest, trying to keep all my shit together and not falling apart.
Carol looks up from the little towel she's mending.
“I cleaned up” she shrugs.
“For a second I thought I was in the wrong place” I reply to her making her smile.
But hers is a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
“Sorry I didn't tell you about my trip to town with Glenn.I wanted to come and look for you but we were already late”
Mine is a little lie but at the moment I absolutely don't want to overload her already shattered nerves with the Shane thing.
Carol shakes her head placing what was in her hands behind her.
“Maggie told me about it.Don't worry”
I move closer to her and she makes room for me on the bed by patting a hand on the blanket next to her.
I sit down sighing.
For a moment my problems seem really insignificant.
Stupid.
Sitting here, next to a heartbroken mother, I understand how fundamentally the world hasn't changed that much.
Because despite death and fear for this new and disturbing world we will never stop worrying about those we love.
Even my mother on the edge of death, when the disease had taken over her weak body, did nothing but worry about me.
She didn't care that her days were now over, she just wanted to be sure that I would make it.
That I would have been fine.
There isn't much I can do to help Carol but I can try to distract her.
And maybe I even know how to do it.
I give her a light shove with my shoulder.
“You know, you were right.I have to thank you”
Her funny and confused look brings a smile to my face.
"About what?"
Her voice is a little hoarse, another sign that today she really gave vent to all her tears.
“I talked to Daryl”
Her big blue eyes dilate from surprise and a radiant smile appears on her face.
And this time it's a true smile.
"Really?And how did go?”
Now it's my turn to smile brightly.
I feel my cheeks tightening from how much I'm smiling.
Carol, seeing my reaction, straightens up on her back, clapping her hands together once.
“I want the details” she exclaims with conviction, tapping my knee with hers.
I think back to everything Daryl and I said to each other at the stable.
The way the skin of my fingers burned against his beautiful face.
The way his eyes lingered on my lips.
The way I felt him vibrate under my uncertain caress.
But I don't have time to tell her anything because the sound of footsteps catches our attention.
After a few moments we find the object of our discussion in front of our eyes.
Daryl.
"Can I?" he murmurs, placing his eyes first on Carol and then on me.
Without ever taking his eyes off mine, short-circuiting my heart, he reaches out to a small shelf where he places a bottle of beer from which two beautiful white flowers emerge.
“Flowers?” Carol asks slightly confused.
Daryl frees me from the prison that is his gaze to turn his attention to the woman beside me.
“They're Cherokee rose” he replies, taking a step in our direction and pointing to the flowers with his finger.
“The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much 'cause they were losing their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation”
I am literally enchanted to listen to him.
The way he speaks, the intrinsic pain in his words unleashes a shower of shivers all over my skin.
Daryl pauses a little, wetting his lips.
His eyes, which until now had remained fixed on Carol, move back to my face.
And that's where they stay while he resumes his story.
“A lot of them just disappeared.So the elders, they said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirit, give them straight and hope”
My stomach twists and the wild beating of my heart resonates deafeningly in my head.
As much as Daryl is a man of few words and with a domineering manner, I never believed that he was a stupid redneck with no feelings.
This man is much more than he lets see.
It's just that he doesn't let just anyone in.
Carol stares blankly at the flowers.
As if she was trying not to break down.
“The next day this rose started to grow right where the mothers' tears fell” he concludes.
For a moment that seems infinite no one speaks.
Not a sound.
Daryl moves as if he's uncomfortable, nervously stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets while looking at the floor.
“I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers blooming for my brother” whispers the archer almost imperceptibly.
Merle, I think.
Carol told me about him and how the story went.
It seems impossible that a guy like Merle could be related to a man as wonderful as Daryl.
From what I was told Merle Dixon was a real asshole.
Rough, racist and not inclined to civil life.
A scurrilous man of dubious morality.
How the youngest Dixon was so completely subjugated by his brother's presence that he too behaved like an absolute idiot.
I look at those blue eyes that I have come to know day after day and I can hardly believe it.
The man I know offered help to a complete stranger.
The man I know put his own group at risk by bringing aforesaid stranger into their safe place.
The man I know right now is looking at me with such intensity that it makes me melt.
I feel Carol trembling slightly next to me and when I turn around she is wiping tears away with her fingertips.
“But I believe that these flowers here have bloomed for your little girl.And for your mom” he concludes with a slight tremor in his voice, after which he turns his back on us and walks away with his head down.
I feel as if a cannon shot had hit me in the chest, preventing me from breathing.
I bring a hand to my chest, tightly gripping the fabric of my t-shirt.
He remembered.
I only mentioned her once and he remembered.
I had arrived at the farm only a few days ago and that evening, under Glenn and Carol's insistence, I had let myself be persuaded to have dinner with everyone else instead of continuing to eat my meals in the solitude of the RV.
Everyone chatted among themselves and I just remained silent with my gaze lowered.
Until Rick makes me a question, attracting everyone's attention.
But I didn't think that the handsome archer sitting apart from the rest of the group had paid attention to my words, at the time I thought he hated me.
I remember looking down at the sight of his gaze burning into me like the flames of the small fire crackling in front of us.
“And you Summer?What was your family like?”
There was no ulterior motive in Rick's question, no trick.
Just the curiosity to meet the new one.
I shrugged indifferently as I tried to muster up the strength to answer.
“My mother was very ill when shit hits the fan.By now it was almost impossible to find her medicines and my father left us to go look for something"
I fought with tears to stop them from flowing from my eyes.
I shrugged again.
“When he returned it was too late.Mom was gone and I…I had to do what had to be done.I couldn't let her turn”
I feel my head spinning.
The memory of her death and my gesture is still burned into my mind.
In my soul.
And it will remain there forever.
She was already dead when I grabbed the gun with a trembling hand.
The echo of that shot still haunts me.
For a moment I even thought about not doing it, about waiting for her to turn and take me away with her.
What made me change my mind?
The thought of my father alone in this new world brought sanity back to me.
We both knew that there would be nothing that could be done for mom but if I died too who would take care of him?
After all, it had always been him and I, Summer and dad against the world.
And it would always be that way.
Or at least that's what I thought...maybe if I had known that despite my presence dad was still lost I would have acted differently.
I would have saved myself others pains.
I wouldn't have found myself in this situation, with my head full of fears and my heart full of feelings that I can't name.
Maybe it would have been easier for everyone.
I bring my knees to my chest, hugging them with my arms.
I feel like I'm losing myself.
Carol's hand rests on my back.
“What's going on Summer?”
Her voice sounds worried in this narrow space.
I realize I'm crying only when my friend's free hand rests on my cheek, wiping away my tears with the tip of her thumb.
I rest my cheek on my knees turning my face in her direction.
“He remembered.I only talked about her once.And he remembered it.I didn't even think he was listening to me” I whisper sniffing.
Carol's sweet smile invades my field of vision.
“Oh honey, that's where you're wrong.Daryl is a very attentive man, especially towards those who catch his attention”
I snort through the tears, letting her smile infect me.
“C'mon tell me everything and don't leave out any details.I need gossip to distract me”
I laugh heartily.
“You won't stop asking me, will you?” I tease her by straightening my back and crossing my legs.
Carol imitates my gestures.
“Oh, what kind of people do you think I am?Of course I'll stop.I'll stop when you spill the beans”
And so, as if I were in the company of my best friend and not a woman I just met, I decide to open my heart to her.
What could happen anyway?
My soul is already torn into a thousand pieces and perhaps this new friendship could help me soothe my wounds a little.
When we leave the RV the moon is already high in the sky and in the distance we can hear the others intent on preparing dinner in front of the fire.
When we reach the rest of the group we are surrounded by waving hands and big smiles.
And honestly after this endless day they are truly a balm for the soul.
Carol smiles at me and then walks away to join Lori and Rick.
After taking a look around I decide to sit in one of the few remaining free seats and I am immediately joined by Glenn who sits to my right.
At first his gaze wanders along the large field in front of us and then with a sigh he turns towards me.
After that little argument in the car we never spoke to each other again, each of us convinced of our own reasons and this makes me sad.
“You good?” he asks me softly, pushing me with his shoulder.
A smile slowly blossoms on his serious face.
He forgave me after all.
I smile back, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Yes, I'm good” I reply in a whisper that only he can hear.
Slowly the plates of food begin to arrive and, helping each other, we pass them around.
After not even a bite I hear a rustle of clothes followed by the silhouette of a man sitting right in front of me, on the other side of the fire.
Before I can focus on his features, Glenn stiffens next to me.
There is only one person who can trigger such a reaction in the delivery boy.
Shane.
So I look up and through the fire I see him.
His eyes bore directly into my mind.
His empty, deep eyes make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I try to ignore the sense of discomfort this man causes me by trying to concentrate on the plate in front of me.
Shane for his part begins to eat calmly, often shifting his attention to me, as if he were controlling my every movement.
My every breath.
As if he was waiting for the right moment to catch me out and take advantage of the situation to turn it against me.
When Andrea catches his attention I take the opportunity to talk to Glenn.
“Please be less obvious.If you keep staring at him with this frown he'll understand that you know something about what happened” I hiss in his direction trying to tame the trembling of my hands.
And as if Shane sensed my fear he looked back at me.
Is anyone really noticing?
Why does no one seem to be aware of this man's strange behaviours?
I think losing even my last bit of appetite letting my gaze wander towards the other diners and then returning it to the man in front of me.
I start fiddling with my meal, which consists of canned beans, dragging it from one side of the plate to the other.
Suddenly something changes in Shane's gaze as he abandons my figure and focuses on something behind me.
His gaze hardens and his jaw clenches.
After a few moments I feel a large calloused hand resting on the bare skin of my shoulder, making me shiver unconsciously.
The long legs of the archer appear in my peripheral vision and without much hesitation he sits down next to me.
His fingers slide from my shoulder to rest on my wrist, very close to my hand.
His grip tightens slightly before letting me go.
What does it mean?
Confused by his blatant gesture, I turn to Glenn looking for his help but the boy has his nose almost immersed in his plate and he is eating with a little too much enthusiasm, as if he was trying to finish as soon as possible.
“Ya gotta a problem?”
Daryl's threatening growl attracts everyone's attention, making me feel nauseous.
And I don't need to look to understand who he's talking to.
My gaze moves quickly between Shane and Daryl as Daryl pushes his body a little more in my direction, as if he's trying to hide me from Shane's sight.
Instinctively with a look that could kill I search for Glenn's eyes.
That traitor has spoken.
If possible Glenn tries to make himself even smaller.
Damn it.
My hands begin to sweat from agitation.
The situation could escalate at any moment if I don't decide to intervene.
Very calmly I place my hand on Daryl's thigh, barely sinking my fingers into his turgid muscle, tense with tension.
As much as his words seem carelessly thrown under my trembling fingers I can feel all the nervousness in him.
“Daryl?” I try to get his attention by calling him in a faint voice but he doesn't even seem to notice me.
He's in defender mode right now and I'm sure nothing can stop his fury but the last thing I want is to start a fight between the two men.
I'm not worried about Daryl, he's strong, but I'm worried about Shane.
His unpredictability scares me.
So determined to put an end to whatever is going on I gamble more.
I move my hand from his thigh to his face.
I press it against his cheek, forcing him to turn towards me.
His nostrils quiver dilated while his sharp and subtle gaze is full of hatred.
Remaining in this position, and praying to any deity in existence that no one is witnessing this, I wait for Daryl to calm down.
His breath comes out in puffs from his nostrils as if he's controlling himself, as if he's making sure his demons remain within him.
After an indefinite infinity of time, his breathing slows down, his lips part slightly and in his eyes the storm gives room for the calm.
The black of his dilated pupils narrow, making again that beautiful blue the predominant color.
I remain enchanted by such wonder.
“Please Daryl” I beg him desperately, turning my head so that only he can see me, I turn my back even on Shane.
I don't know what Daryl sees in my eyes because after a while he nods.
I smile with satisfaction and straighten up and offer him my plate, now my appetite is just a distant memory.
"Are you hungry?" I ask kindly, my voice still shaking.
Daryl nods again, grabbing my plate of food in his large hands and before starting to eat he casts another brief grim glance towards Shane who, looking at us with curiosity, gets up and decides to leave.
I let go the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding.
Now Shane knows that I have spoken and I can calmly say that my peace has just ended.
Daryl's interference has marked the end of this stressful emotional fast and loose.
Shit.
Daryl eats his meal without looking at me anymore, giving me the chance to collect myself and think about how I should behave now.
First of all I'm obviously going to kick Glenn's ass for betraying me.
Even though...even though I'll never admit it but I'm relieved.
I'm happy.
Happy because Daryl stood up for me, without even asking me for explanations.
Without wanting to hear my side of the story.
He's on my side no matter what.
And the usual stubborn butterflies flutter between my heart and my stomach.
I raise my hand to my lips, nervously chewing on my fingertips.
At my side a movement distracts me from the turmoil stirring inside me.
Daryl stretches his long legs in front of him and then bends his knees and with a light push gets back to his feet.
His work here is temporarily over so he has no reason to stay.
I can already taste the sorrow on the tip of my tongue.
“Move”
His command is a gentle whisper in my ears and without giving my brain time to process a response my body precedes it, getting up and trotting after him like a faithful little dog.
Behind me I can see a small glimpse of Carol's face.
She is obviously smiling as she watches me disappear into the darkness along with the archer.
I follow him without having the courage to speak, to ask him where we are going.
But would it really matter to me after all?
If he asked me to follow him to the end of the world I would do it...
I continue to march in silence following the sound of his boots trampling the grass with excessive violence.
I risk a glance in his direction and I can swear I can sense a change in his attitude.
His figure is rigid, his steps full of agitation.
I look back at the ground, digging my nails into the palms of my hands.
What happens now?
Are we back to where we were before our little chats this morning?
God, it seems like an eternity has passed instead of a handful of hours.
Too many emotions in too little time.
I only stop when I hit something hard.
I bounce back as if my body had hit a wall of pure concrete.
When I look up in front of me there is a furious Daryl and yet his hands on my upper arms are delicate while he holds me back to prevent me from ending up with my ass on the ground.
His grip intensifies.
“Wha' the hell have ya done?” he growls, raising an eyebrow.
His low, angry tone makes my toes curl.
Why does he assume it's my fault?
If the matter causes him so much discomfort, why should he take my side so openly?
I try to free myself from his grip but in response his fingers tighten even more.
I will definitely have some marks tomorrow.
“What did Glenn tell you?” I reply with a question to give me time to collect my thoughts.
Daryl lets me go and goes to sit next to his tent grabbing his knife from his holster and starting to work on a bolt.
Instinctively I bring my hands where his were until a few moments ago.
“He just asked me to keep an eye on Shane.Nothin' else”
I look at him with disbelief.
Did he turn against Shane without knowing the real motivation?
I soften, melting like snow in the sun.
Since I found myself catapulted into this world, it is the first time that someone has taken care of me without being forced to do so in some way.
I join him sitting next to him.
Our shoulders barely touch.
“You shouldn't have, Daryl” I murmur, absentmindedly plucking a few blades of grass and twisting them between my fingers.
In response he snorts.
I shrug, finally deciding to speak.
“Shane told me to shut my mouth”
The sound of the knife scraping against the wood of the bolt is the only noise around us.
“Did ya find out 'bout him and Lori?”
I'm not surprised that he knows.
As Carol told me before, even though it doesn't seem like it, Daryl is very attentive to everything around him.
The noise stops, a sign that Daryl is no longer working on his weapons.
But this time the silence doesn't weigh, it's almost pleasant.
I know he's watching me, I can feel the weight of his gaze on me so I nod in response to his question.
After a few more minutes of silence I feel his hand rest gently on my head.
I turn to look for his eyes and find them staring at me, a look full of sweetness that I have never seen on him.
Hesitant, his fingers slide across my face, a caress at the tip of his fingers just like I caressed him this morning in the stable.
“Why didn't ya come to me right away?”
This is a good question.
Why didn't I do it?
Well I already know the answer.
“I don't want to cause problems.I...I don't want to leave this place”
I don't want to leave you.
And as much as I would never like to abandon his gaze, I do so, lowering mine onto my hands ruined by days spent running away and killing.
Daryl lifts my chin with two fingers, forcing me to look at him again.
Jesus.
I can feel his breath breaking on my face, I can smell the tobacco coming out of his parted lips.
I would only need to bring my face a few inches closer and I could kiss him.
I could find out if his lips, always full of such harsh words, could be soft and compliant.
I close my eyes overwhelmed by the flow of my thoughts.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Yer no a problem, Summer”
My name rolling around his tongue makes me gasp but in a completely pleasant way.
“I would never let anyone hurt ya.As long as I have the chance I will do everythin' to make ya stay here with us”
Here with you, it is here with you that I would really like to stay, a corner of my subconscious murmurs.
Because as much as I get along well with the rest of these people, it's not just with them that I would like to stay.
Not just for Carol or Glenn.
Just for him.
But obviously I will keep this little secret to myself.
He doesn't need to know.
I can't expose him to any more dangers.
So I reluctantly move away from his grasp, putting some distance between me and his gentle touch.
Daryl brings his hand back to his lap and if my gesture bothered him he doesn't show it.
But there is one question that I can't keep to myself.
"Why?"
Daryl looks at me carefully, studying every detail of my face.
I watch him as he nervously chews the inside of his cheek.
He might pretend not to understand my question.
He could elude it.
But in his gaze I perceive the exact moment of his surrender.
He closes his eyes bending his head back and resting it on the trunk of the tree behind him.
“I dunno” he murmurs in a sigh.
“The only thing I know 's tha' from the moment I saw ya in tha' woods I had no choice.And today I still feel like I don't have it”
Taken by a moment of courage I rest my head on his shoulder, surrendering to my heart and to his sweet words.
Daryl tenses but I can slowly feel him relax.
“ 's frustrating” he grunts, making me burst out laughing.
His arm wraps around my shoulders pulling me a little closer to him.
“Shut up pretty eyes” he murmurs with his lips pressed against my temple.
I know, in my heart, that I want to stay like this forever and I hate the idea of ruining this moment but the words fall from my lips without control.
“You don't know me”
“And ya don't know me”
Exactly.
The problem is precisely this.
This strange attraction between us is illogical, completely irrational and yet it seems that neither of us can stay away from the other.
A philosophy lesson from when I was still in high school comes to my mind.
One day Professor Trevon told us about the myth of Plato's apple.
Once upon a time, men were perfect beings, they lacked nothing and there was no distinction between men and women.
But Zeus, envious of such perfection, split them in two: since then each of us has been in constant search of our own half, finding which we return to the ancient perfection.
Plato believed that love is suffering and there can be a way out: finding your soul mate.
The living being is nothing more than half of two individuals divided at the beginning by Zeus who separated them to leave them in search of each other.
It is precisely from here that the idea of soul mates comes from, the one that constantly pushes us to search for someone who can complete us.
This is what myths are for, to explain values, to understand the inexplicable, to give it concreteness and if the myth of the halves may appear bloody, it does nothing more than teach us how in life only suffering can lead us to the realization of the greatest desires of the soul, just like love, the real one. Although as someone else would say, suffering is a disposable void.
Professor Trevon's voice booms in my head as if he were standing in front of me right now.
If this state is the most perfect, then necessarily in the situation we find ourselves in today the best thing is to try to get as close as possible to perfection: to meet the closest soul, and fall in love with it.
As Daryl's scent fills my head and my heart I find myself thinking that perhaps we are kindred souls.
Ancient halves dispersed in space and time, halves that have sailed seas of suffering and pain, only to find themselves at the end of the world.
Too romantic?
Maybe...
But nowadays I think we still need to believe in something.
And that something for me could be him.
Or is it just all in my head, I think closing my eyes and enjoying this small and infinite moment of peace.
I drag myself with difficulty to the edge of the long road that stands in front of me.
My senses are on alert as I move slowly but decisively towards the trees on my right.
I feel too exposed here, the trees will give me a little more shelter from prying eyes and teeth ready to bite me.
I blink violently as the sunlight blinds me, burning my clear eyes.
Mum always told me "Clear eyes are delicate, always protect them"
And I, who was only five years old, snorted impatiently while, with a very sweet smile, she placed a pair of sunglasses on my nose and then kissed the tip making me giggle.
I have always loved my green eyes just because they are the same as my mother's, they are the only thing that reminds me that she existed.
I have nothing left of her except an old photo, creased and worn by the tears I shed over it.
Every time I see my reflection, if I concentrate hard enough, I can see her in my features, I can pretend for a few moments that she is there in front of me.
Our resemblance is the only thing that constantly reminds me that she was a real part of a life that today no longer belongs to me.
Emerald eyes.
That's how dad called her.
I can still hear his voice as he whispers those sweet words to my mother.
I sigh thinking about how much they loved each other.
They have always been my example of true, pure and strong love.
They are what I aspire to or rather what I dreamed for myself before.
Now there is nothing left, only death and despair.
I look around looking for a slightly shadier spot but without great results.
The heat is increasingly unbearable, especially at this time of the afternoon.
Not that I have a watch with me but from the position of the sun in the sky I'm pretty sure it was a few hours after noon.
I breathe deeply and the hot air burns my nose, my lungs.
The heat burns my throat, corroding every clear thought.
Damn…
I didn't know Georgia was so damn hot.
I mean, even though I am walking in the depths of the forest, the sun gives me no respite, it infiltrates the branches and leaves with unprecedented violence.
It's like it wants to constantly remind me “Hey bitch I'm here, I know where you are.You can't escape me"
The jeans I'm wearing fit like a second skin, making me sweat even more profusely while the white t-shirt I'm wearing has noticeable, and if I had been in the company of other human beings, embarrassing patches of sweat near the armpits and along the entire back.
Let's say the smell I give off isn't the best.
For a fraction of a second my vision blurs, slowing down my already limping and clumsy pace.
The sounds around me become muffled.
I no longer hear the cicadas singing in the heat of this desolate and cursed land.
Without realizing it, I stop and rest my hand against the rough trunk of a tree, the bark scratches my palm but I barely feel the pain.
Nowadays I feel numb to everything.
I no longer feel anything except the inexorable passage of time.
Forty-two days, I think as my vision comes and goes, repeatedly showing me white points of light on my black boots.
That's how long I've been wandering.
Forty-two damn days.
On my long journey to Atlanta I encountered few living people but many, too many, dead.
Fucking biters.
I tried to keep a low profile, only killing them when I really couldn't help myself.
My only weapons are my trusty knife and a machete found in an old abandoned car near Charlotte.
As for the living, well...in that case I avoided them as anyone would avoid STI.
Or the biters.
It depends on your point of view.
But the thing that amazes me is that I have never met his men.
Or him.
Maybe they didn't think I would run away south.
Or maybe they never looked for me.
Why should he commit his men, in his opinion his most precious resources, to look for me?
Maybe there was a time when he would have turned the world upside down to find me but in the last few weeks he had grown colder.
It wasn't him anymore.
Without feelings.
No hugs, no sweet words.
Only barked orders, half-hearted phrases.
As if I were another one of his stupid men and not the most important woman in his life, as he used to call me.
It is as if he had convinced himself that his love for me made him weak in the eyes of others, as if love me made him vulnerable and therefore less credible or reliable as a leader.
I feel my legs give out, my knees tremble, forcing me to kneel on the hard ground.
I bring the hand that isn't busy gripping the tree to my head, as if this gesture could ease my pain.
The same excruciating pain in my head that hasn't left me for days now seems to explode with ferocity, as if I suddenly found myself hanging upside down and all the blood was draining towards my brain, giving me the not so pleasant sensation of my eyes being forced out of my eye sockets.
In the midst of this ocean of pain I can hear the cawing of a crow that echoes throughout the forest, making me jump violently, making my heartbeat skyrocket.
I feel it beating so hard that I have the almost mathematical certainty that at any moment it could break through my ribs and come out of my chest.
The crow flies away with a rustle of wings, continuing on its way unaware of having almost caused me a cardiac arrest.
Another dizziness takes me by surprise, making me lose my grip on the tree and finding myself on all fours, my stomach shaking with violent spasms while empty retching fills my dry and sore throat.
I know what's happening.
I'm aware of it.
The problem is that I'm fucking scared of it.
I can't accept it.
After all, who could do it?
Who would be able to accept their death as if nothing had happened?
I feel my eyes burning but no tears appear.
My crooked mouth in a grip of perpetual pain burns, the dozens of small wounds that cover it bleed with every small movement.
I've learned to live with hunger, it's not as difficult as it seems.
The last time I think I ate was about two or three days ago.
I had found a small cabin in the woods, I think it was an old hunter's lodge.
With only a few hours of light ahead of me, I had decided to stop and set a small trap near my refuge for that night.
Maybe I would catch a disgusting possum or if I was really lucky a rabbit.
But instead, the next morning, the only thing I found was a little mouse.
Small, defenseless, gasping desperately with his little paw stuck in the trap.
He squealed forcefully, fighting for his life.
I still remember the tears of disgust at what I was about to do but it was for my own life.
For my survival.
I felt pathetic feeling sorry for a small and insignificant ball of fur but I think I saw myself in him.
Too small and defenseless for this world that is now too cruel and cowardly, destined to succumb but not therefore willing to give up.
I believe my sleep deprivation played a major role in my little mental breakdown.
An hour later I was sitting in front of a small fire, my hair glued to my neck from sweat and the remains of that little warrior on the ground in front of me.
“Mors tua vita mea” I found myself whispering while looking at those little bones.
Both of us, the little mouse and I, had only one mission, survive and there would be only one winner.
The failure of the little rodent guaranteed the achievement of my goal...surviving a few more days.
A rustle in the distance brings me back to the present.
I try to use every ounce of strength to concentrate all my energy on lifting my head, to at least try to understand where the noise is coming from, but by now dehydration is taking over, making me weak and exposed.
Vulnerable.
And in this world if you are vulnerable you are dead.
I lower my head in defeat, my forehead almost touching the dry leaves on the ground.
The smell of mold and musk tickling my nostrils.
My fingers dig into the ground with anger and frustration.
The sun continues to burn the back of my neck undisturbed, dulling my pale skin.
Some dirty strands escape from my bun and stick to my sweat-beaded forehead.
I am thirsty.
I'm literally dying of thirst.
And honestly it's a horrible death.
I finished my last water about five days ago.
For the next two days, after the end of that precious liquid, I drank my own urine twice.
I still remember the feeling of disgust, the tears rolling down my cheeks.
My head screaming at me not to do it while my body begged me otherwise.
I had to do it, I had no choice...
But then between the sweat and the lack of any other liquid even the urine disappeared and now I haven't drunk for almost 48 hours and my body can't take it anymore.
It's shutting down.
I am slowly and surely losing all functions.
Like I'm falling but I'm doing it in slow motion, I know I'll crash eventually and it'll be horrible but I can't do anything to help it.
I'm there, sitting in the front row watching my end.
Cool.
That rustling again.
I would like to get up, my instinct tells me to check what it is, to fight, but my body no longer responds to me.
It's like my brain has dissociated itself from everything else and told me “Hell no baby, I don't give a fuck, I'm done.Now it's your business"
Another round of retching knocks me out, forcing me to lie down on the ground, melting against it, with the dry leaves as a pillow.
I hear footsteps and I can't understand if they belong to a human being or to a biter.
The sounds are confusing, like everything else after all.
Thoughts become incoherent, and reality mixes with memories of the past.
“Come on my little girl, don't give up”
Is my daddy's voice?
The almost musical cadence of his voice makes my heart skip a beat.
Or is it just the palpitations due to dehydration?
Then another voice…
“Summer?Where are you my dear?"
Mom?
It's you?
Where are you?
Rolling onto my side and using the last of my strength I lie down onto my back.
Behind my closed eyelids I can perceive the intensity of the sun.
The sounds in my ears don't make sense, they come and go garbled and distorted.
Words, angry growls, whispers.
I believe my time has finally come.
The only regret?
Knowing that I came close, so close.
Atalanta is only a few tens of miles away and dying like this, devoured by some horde or simply devoured by my own thirst, sucks.
Dying sucks.
It's not how I imagined it.
It's certainly not like in the movies, that's for sure.
There is no last soft sigh, nothing romantic.
No cathartic moments.
No understanding of the meaning of life.
There is no flashback, no images of your life flashing before you.
Indeed...every breath is a stab, a slow torture that consumes your soul.
First, it fucks your brain and then he takes everything else.
An agony without grace.
Dying is not easy.
But despite everything I will die happy knowing that I tried in every way.
I tried to survive tooth and nail but in the end this world got the better of me.
A lone tear drips from my left eye.
Then the darkness.
Here, today, my journey towards a better life ends.
I've been here at the farm for almost 5 days so that means that sweet, defenseless little girl has been out there for a week.
Sophia has not yet been found.
I really hope with all my heart that she is still alive.
We all hope so.
Last night before going to sleep Carol updated me a little on the situation.
Daryl and the others are still busy searching and it seems that the archer has found a good lead to follow.
And damn, despite everyone's efforts, Daryl really seems like the only one who really cares about this whole thing.
He spends entire days searching every millimeter of these woods, following every possible path.
Spending all his strength.
Carol tries not to show it but even an idiot would notice that her mental state is in full decline.
And the night, poor woman, she spends every night crying.
How do I know?
As accommodation they let me sleep on the floor of Dale's RV since neither I nor they have an extra tent for me.
And just when the woman thinks everyone is sleeping she gives vent to all her pain.
And honestly I don't know what to do.
I have often thought about getting up to console her but I have always stopped, not because I am insensitive to her pain but because I don't know what to say to her.
And I'm sure that my words don't even help her.
She just needs her little girl and not my stupid words of circumstance.
I even thought about offering myself for the research but there is a small detail that stops me.
Daryl.
He hates having me around and I don't think he would ever accept my help or even my company.
So I avoid being around him.
As far as I'm concerned, I'm settling with the others quite well.
Everyone is very kind to me, except for two obvious exceptions.
Daryl, precisely, and Shane.
I try to stay away from the latter.
Really away.
Apparently the man can only tolerate me if I remain at a safe distance from him.
And who am I to disappoint him?
For the rest I get along with everyone.
A good relationship is being established with the women, they are all very polite to me and try to include me in the group.
To reciprocate their kindness I continually try to get busy.
I help with the fire, with the preparation of meals, with the perimeter guard shifts and with everything I can.
Like now.
Me, Lori, Amy, Carol and Andrea are making breakfast for everyone this morning.
Maggie and Beth, the farmer's daughters, kindly gave us some eggs and even offered to help us out.
So all together we are trying to set up something decent, at least for the men who will soon leave to resume the search for Sophia and for those who will leave for a quick reconnaissance down in the city in search of further supplies for the winter that will soon arrive.
A gust of wind makes me shiver.
Even if during the day the temperatures are still quite high, in the morning the air begins to feel increasingly cooler.
I shrug, rubbing my hands along my arms to try to get some warmth.
“Summer?Summer, dear can you hear me?”
I snap out of my thoughts at Carol's voice.
I look up from the bowl full of freshly picked peaches.
“Sorry Carol, tell me”
Carol raises an eyebrow as she takes a few steps closer.
"Everything is fine?This is the third time I've called you.What's going on inside that little head of yours?” she asks me kindly, keeping her voice low so as not to be heard by the other women.
I shake my head, smiling weakly.
Just like my mother, she always seems to know when I overthink about something.
Maybe this is a super mom power?
"Nothing.I was wandering”
I shrug indifferently at the end of the sentence.
I don't want to give her any more worries.
She's already had enough of it.
“Mmh mmh” she murmurs, unconvinced, grabbing a knife and taking the peach that I turn over and over in my hands.
I also take a knife, grab another peach and follow her, imitating her gestures.
In silence we begin to peel the fruit and cut it into small pieces.
The sweet smell of peaches makes my mouth watering.
Behind us we hear Amy and Beth giggling.
For just a moment it's as if everything were normal, as if we were just a group of friends intent on preparing breakfast.
There is no death, there is no pain, there are no dead people brought back to life.
There is peace, calm.
But the reality is very different.
We're just a bunch of strangers trying to get ahead.
Not to give up.
We're just trying to survive.
We're just trying to make sense of this fucking world.
“Did you talk to Daryl?” Carol asks me, feigning indifference.
I sigh, closing my eyes and trying to stay calm.
That evening after having...I don't even know how to define it...argued?
After having that brief confrontation with Daryl I was very nervous and I couldn't keep it from her.
I told her what had happened and how I felt.
Nowadays I still don't understand Carol's reaction.
“Don't mind what he told you.Daryl isn't that good with words” she replied smiling.
Her look seemed amused but I decided not to investigate further.
But from that moment on I had the impression that she was pushing me to resolve the issue with the man.
Which obviously I've always avoided.
He stays away from me and I have nothing to say.
He looks down every time our paths cross and I don't complain.
I do not want to create problems.
I'm new and I just want to earn my place in the group without bothering the others.
“Daryl and I have nothing to clarify”
Saying his name makes my stomach clench.
“It's okay Carol, we avoid each other and we're all happy” I whisper.
At least he is.
Carol shakes her head but she doesn't say anything else.
More giggles catch our attention, making us turn around.
Amy and Beth seem to be talking to each other, constantly glancing to their left.
So I decide to follow their gazes to understand what it is.
And a little further on there is him.
Daryl.
He seems busy checking something inside his backpack.
He is wearing a pair of black jeans and his ever-present sleeveless shirt.
This man appears to be insensitive to the cold.
The muscles in his arms bend sinuously, swelling with every movement.
Muscles that have nothing to do with exhausting sessions in the gym.
Oh no...
His body is built only by his struggle for survival.
Apparently the archer's past life was not very different from the one he leads now.
Hunting and rural life have always been part of his life.
Or at least that's what Carol and Glenn told me.
After a few minutes he crouches on his knees to check some arrows, the powerful muscles of his thighs seem barely contained in the constriction of his jeans.
He cocks his head to the side and grabs an arrow, studying it carefully.
He checks the tip with his fingers.
For a moment I remember the strength of those fingers closed around my wrist as he dragged me with him into that woods.
My heart does a somersault remembering the warmth of that hand, the strong grip of his calloused fingers.
“Do you stop, please?”
Andrea has an amused frown on her face as she scolds the two girls who don't stop giggling and continue to throw mischievous glances at the unaware Daryl.
"What?" laughs Amy, Andrea's sister, as she approaches me to hand me some dishes.
Her young blue eyes shine like lapis lazuli.
Amy throws her head back laughing heartily.
“Don't tell me I'm the only one here?” she replies, turning to all of us, indicating the man with a nod of her head.
I look back at Daryl and a shiver runs through me.
Carol giggles.
Andrea's eyebrows raise dangerously upwards.
"What?" Amy repeats again crossing her arms over her chest.
“He's sexy as hell” the girl admits candidly, triggering more giggles.
“He's rude” her sister immediately replies.
“That doesn't mean he doesn't have a perfect ass, look there.Right Beth?” she asks, turning to her friend.
Beth giggles again.
“You know Amy, your sister prefers guys like Shane” her friend supports her.
Wow.
What the fuck?
Really.
Just one word.
Eew.
Lori from her spot shifts her weight from one foot to the other as if she is uncomfortable.
Her and Andrea exchange a fleeting glance, full of tension.
Which I can't fully understand.
“Well, he may be rude but Amy's right.If I had been a little younger I wouldn't have wasted my time”
I turn my head sharply towards Carol shocked by her spicy revelation.
Seriously Carol?
With her words she attracts everyone's attention.
Her dreamy expression is focused on the ass of the archer, bent forward intent on raising the crossbow lying near his feet.
I drew my bottom lip between my teeth and bit it nervously.
The response from the other women doesn't take long to arrive and in fact another chorus of giggles rises in the air.
For my part, I'm paralyzed with the dishes still in my hands.
I don't like the direction this little girl talk session is going.
Why?
Because it's obvious that my thoughts are common to theirs but I don't even want to think about it.
I can't afford to think of him like that...nothing good would come of it.
Not for me at least.
I feel my face go up in flames.
"I'm right, you heard her?" Amy replies, satisfied, challenging her sister to reply.
Andrea huffs in exasperation, turning her back on her sister.
Maggie approaches me, gently taking the dishes from my hands and starting to fill them with scrambled eggs.
“Ok, he's not that bad.But he's not my type”
With these words the oldest Green gives us her opinion on the subject.
“And who would be your type, Glenn?” Lori teases her, her words make the girl blush.
Then Maggie's dark eyes stop for a moment in mine.
A small look that I can't decipher until an alarm rings in my head.
Wait.
Wait…oh god.
Oh God no!
I turn away from the discussion among the others to focus on Maggie.
I approach her, taking a dish and starting to help her.
Maggie was very nice to me, she gave me clean clothes, she takes care of my sore wrists and I don't want her to even think that I'm somehow trying to come between her and Glenn.
I would never do that.
It's true that the boy and I have become very close in these few days but there is nothing sentimental between us.
I don't feel attracted to him in that way.
I have to tell her something to prevent the seed of doubt from sprouting in her head but in the distance I actually see Glenn advancing towards us so I decide to postpone our discussion.
As the man approaches, his eyes are all for Maggie.
I shake my head with a smile.
How could she ever doubt it?
“Good morning, my beautiful ladies” he exclaims with a big smile after reaching us but without ever taking his dreamy gaze away from the farmer's beautiful daughter.
In response he receives kind good mornings in return.
Maggie hands him a plate accompanied by a smile and then he walks away to sit on one of the improvised chair blocks.
Slowly all the other men join us.
First Rick, then Dale, T-dog.
Even Shane.
I hand him a plate trying to be as kind as possible and I even receive a half-thank you in return.
Wow!
This is an event worth noting in the yearbooks.
That prick knows the word thank you.
Lori approaches us taking two plates.
“One is for Carl” she justifies herself, afraid that someone might object.
“Hersel hasn't given him permission to get up yet so I'll go eat in the room with him” she continues.
I smile at her and she walks away, entering the big white house.
Carl.
One lucky little guy.
Not everyone can survive a bullet.
This is how this group came to the farm.
Due to a horrible accident.
Apparently Otis, one of the inhabitants of the farm, accidentally shoots the boy while hunting a deer.
Offering his help immediately, he would later die by sacrificing himself and allowing Shane to bring back to Hersel everything needed to save the boy's life.
I haven't had the chance to meet Carl yet but from what Lori and Rick told me about him he really seems to be a special little boy.
“Go eat with the others Summer”
Maggie's voice wakes me up from my thoughts and I immediately realize that they are all sitting enjoying their breakfast.
Everyone except me and her.
And Daryl of course.
No trace of him.
Why the hell am I always so aware of his presence or absence?
I nod as she turns her back on me but before she can disappear inside her house I whisper her name.
At first I thought that she didn't hear me but then her pace slows until she stops, then turning towards me.
“Tell me” she replies with a smile.
I approach unsure of what to say.
Where do I start?
I feel embarrassed.
“I…emh I wanted to tell you… yeah I mean...”
The words die in my mouth.
Is it really the right thing?
Even though she has always been friendly to me, can I really intrude into her private life like this?
"What happens?"
Her large eyes observe me carefully.
With one hand she tucks a lock of hair behind her ears.
She is really very beautiful and I really don't understand how she can feel threatened by someone like me.
No one has ever looked at me the way Glenn looks at her, why would she ever doubt his feelings?
With a big breath I take courage.
Now or never.
I quickly peek over my shoulder noticing that the others are far enough away that they can't hear so I decide to speak.
“It's about Glenn” I whisper, returning my gaze to her face, torturing the fingers of my hands.
“Oh” the girl whispers in a broken voice, looking at me with the same look she had given me shortly before, when Lori had brought up her crush on the boy.
Her long fingers nervously crease the hem of her cotton shirt.
Around us the silence is interrupted only by the echo of the chatter of the rest of the group.
We both remain silent unable to continue this embarrassing conversation.
Her gaze remains low on her feet as she kicks at the blades of grass around her.
“Do you…do you like him”
And hers isn't a question.
"What?"
My slightly too shrill tone of voice makes several heads turn towards us.
“No, no Maggie” I reply whispering.
I immediately approach her, gently grabbing her hand.
She slowly raises her face almost in fear.
I continue to shake my head as she looks at me curiously.
"No.This is what I wanted to talk to you about" I reassure her.
Her face seems to relax a little.
“Glenn was the first to show me some humanity, he helped me and I can never thank him enough but Glenn and I are just friends”
“Really?”
“Really.I don't see him the way you see him” I tease her making her blush.
“Oh Summer, sorry!”
Her words are followed by a suffocating hug.
She holds me tightly, in her grip I can feel the relief but also a lot of anxiety.
I hug her back, trying to convey to her all the truthfulness of my words.
Glenn is amazing and maybe in another life I would have even considered going on a date with him.
He is sweet, nice, smart.
We have many interests in common such as comics, video games, films.
We are two classic guys in our early twenties, both raised in a city too big for our simple spirits.
But despite all that I don't feel attracted to him in that way.
My gaze slides behind Maggie.
Towards Daryl's tent.
No, Summer.No!
Damn it.
It's not possible.
It's absurd, irrational.
Sure Daryl is attractive, strong, brave...
But mine is just a stupid physical attraction.
After all, apparently I'm not the only one who finds him beautiful.
Maggie is the first to break the hug but our hands remain intertwined so together we approach the porch steps to sit on them.
We both keep our gaze fixed straight ahead, watching the sun slowly take its place in the sky.
“I'm sorry for thinking that you and Glenn…”
Maggie begins but I immediately stop her with a wave of my hand.
“Don't think about it” I reassure her.
“It's my fault.Maybe I shouldn't have gotten so close to him and disrespected you” I admitted rather embarrassed.
Maybe I couldn't have known it at first but I should have pulled back a little when I realized the looks that the two lovebirds usually throw at each other every time they have the chance.
I feel Maggie's hand rest on my knee, squeezing it slightly.
On her face there is a beautiful smile that will take your breath away.
“You don't even have to say it.I know Glenn cares about me but I also know he cares about you.I was just a little scared.That's all”
We laugh together at her confession and I watch her as she stands up.
“I'm going to see if dad needs me.See you later Summer” she greets me.
I greet her with a smile.
“Oh Maggie?”
“Yeah?”
“When you see Glenn could you tell him to come find me?I have a favor to ask him”
“Okay” she replies and then closes the door behind her.
I sit on the porch steps until Carol joins me with a plate of food.
“Thanks mommy” I thank her rolling my eyes and making her laugh.
“If you remembered to eat I wouldn't have to chase you like you were a five year old girl, right?So shut up and eat” she scolds me gently, forcing the plate into my hands.
“Yes ma’am”
As I finish my meal one bite after another, I am hungrier than I thought, I see Daryl coming out of his tent ready for the new research session.
He quickly places his backpack on his shoulders, tightening his grip on his crossbow and quickly walks away heading towards the stable.
I follow him with my gaze.
Carol's elbow digs painfully into my ribs.
“Damn Carol” I cough.
For her part, she feigns an innocent expression but her sly smile tells me something completely different.
I roll my eyes so much I could see the back of my head.
I get up huffing.
“I'm not going to talk to him, Carol”
“No one asked you”
“No?”
“Nope”
She looks at me from below with her immense blue eyes with a toothy smile.
I don't know her well enough but I'm more than certain that that look on hers doesn't bode well.
Only then I realize that she is turning a canteen between her fingers.
She stands up and forcefully shoves it into my hand like she had done earlier with my plate of food.
“What exactly should I do with it?”
I feel panic crawling in my stomach.
In my hands that stupid canteen weighs like a boulder because I know who it belongs to.
I often saw Carol fill it and then give it back to his owner.
“Why are you doing this to me?" I ask her almost desperately, whimpering as if I were really a five-year-old.
Why is this woman so keen to have the archer humiliate me?
“I thought we were friends” I hiss through gritted teeth.
My eyes get wet.
Fuck!
I hate the close correlation between my feelings and my eyes.
I'm sad?I cry.
Am I frustrated?I cry.
I am happy?I cry.
I listen to a good song?I cry.
And I swear it's never been a problem for me but in this place, surrounded by people I barely know, well let's say it embarrasses me a little.
“You'll thank me one day” Carol coos, leaving me alone.
What the answer is this?
Jeez.
Shit.
I might not go.
I might turn around and go to Dale's RV to see if he needs a change of guard.
I might go and see if there's laundry to do.
Or I could count the blades of grass.
Anything to avoid facing the archer's cold indifference.
Because despite everything the fact that he can only see trouble for his people in me hurts me.
I am really grateful to him for saving me and I would just like to have a civil relationship with him like I have with the others.
I turn the canteen over and over in my hands and with a big sigh I steel myself by forcing my legs to move in the same direction Daryl disappeared from.
Even though I'm not dying to interact with him I can't let him go out there without water.
My feet move unsurely on the grass and with each step that brings me closer and closer to the source of my discomfort my heart beats more and more irregularly.
And not only because of who I will have to see but also because of that place.
I haven't set foot in the stable since that damned night.
Only bad memories are connected to that place.
My hands are sweating and for a moment I fear I'll lose my grip on the cold metal of the canteen.
Once I reach the stable I hear Daryl's voice coming from inside.
“I know ya're a good girl.Ya're a good girl, aren't ya?”
His voice is hoarse, persuasive.
The softly shuffled letters mess up my thoughts.
I feel my knees shaking.
When I reach the stable Daryl has his back to me while he strokes the head of a beautiful horse.
The calloused hand moves between the animal's ears and then descends to the muzzle where he leaves two light gentle pats.
Once I reach my destination I knock twice with my knuckles on the boards of the door even if it is already open.
His head snaps towards me.
His blue eyes linger on me for only a few moments after which he turns his full attention back to the animal in front of him.
“Wha' do ya want?”
His abrupt tone makes me jump.
When I waste time finding the right words he turns away, his body turned completely in my direction.
A severe frown seems to reside permanently on his face especially when it comes to me.
“So?” he asks, spitting out the words as if they were poison.
And just like poison they burn a small portion of my heart.
“I…” I stutter unable to maintain eye contact.
My gaze shifts mortified to my hands.
I can feel his eyes boring two deep holes straight into my soul.
“Carol asked me to give you this” I whisper in a small voice showing him my hands.
A deafening silence wreaks havoc on my brain and when I decide it's too much for me I look up again but Daryl is turning his back on me again.
He started petting the horse again as if I wasn't here.
As if I hadn't spoken.
As if I didn't exist.
I could stamp my feet, shout at him how rude he is but I'm sure that would only make the situation worse so gathering up every ounce of courage I move closer until I get to his side.
Daryl glances at me sideways but says nothing.
I ignore him, putting my hand close to the horse's muzzle.
The animal, initially wary, moves away, but after a few seconds it brings its muzzle closer to my hand and lets me touch it.
I rub my fingers between his large dark eyes and receive a loud whinny in return.
I laugh.
“He's beautiful” I whisper to myself.
I have always dreamed of having a horse.
I remember as a child begging my parents for more than a year to have one.
My father almost lost his mind explaining to me how impossible it was for such an animal to live in a small garden in the city.
“’S a girl” Daryl murmurs, still without turning towards me.
My hand freezes immersed in the shiny mane.
"What?" I ask unable to stop myself.
Is he really speaking to me after treating me as if I were invisible?
“The horse.She's a girl” he repeats finally turning his head towards me.
And for the first time, in days, I no longer see all that anger in his eyes.
For the first time in days I found a little piece of that man I met in the woods.
Trying to hide my smile I turn and dig both hands into her soft mane.
“Oh I'm so sorry baby” I coo, scratching the docile beauty near her ears.
His soft chuckle makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Are ya apologizing to a horse?” the amused archer asks, his voice seems more relaxed but I don't dare turn around to make sure.
I'm afraid that even just looking at him this moment of tranquility could vanish.
“Well if I were in her place I would have been offended if someone had mistaken me for a boy” I reply letting a genuine smile blossom on my face.
Maybe the first since I've been here.
“Nah… no shit.I don't think is possible.Yer too pretty, sunshine”
That nickname again.
But this time no mockery to accompany his words.
Too shocked to keep my promise to ignore him, I slowly turn to him and find his gaze fixed on my face.
A mix of emotions swirl in my brain even as I try to keep a neutral gaze on the outside as I try to understand what is going through the mind of the man in front of me.
A slight frown of frustration crosses his forehead.
It's as if he wanted to tell me something but his mouth was unable to do so.
“Daryl Dixon makes me a compliment.Wow”
“'M a asshole, sorry”
“It's ok”
“No, that's not ok” he replies immediately.
His right hand grips the crossbow so tightly that the object seems to creak in protest.
His vaguely agitated gaze flits from one side of the stable to the other as if he were looking for a way out of this uncomfortable situation.
I'm really sorry to see him like this so I decide to give him a hand to get out of this situation.
“Listen to me Daryl.You didn't do anything wrong.I understand you.You feel obligated to protect these people but I assure you that I will do everything to make you understand that I am not a threat"
Almost I want to add it but I avoid it.
If only they knew what trouble, just taking me in, could mean for them.
He could kill everyone just for the fun of it.
I shook my head vigorously.
No.
He's not here.
He is miles away.
Nobody has to know.
More silence.
“I should have been there instead of Glenn that night.Or Carol.I should have dragged ya away from this stable and instead I was stuck listening to that prick's lecture”
“Shane?” I ask looking at his eyes again.
Daryl nods, gnawing on the side of his thumb.
I can read a lot of anger in his gestures.
And regret.
“Nah…I already gave you so much trouble.Don't blame yourself for things you couldn't foresee” I try to reassure him.
“You already have so much to think about”
Carol, I think.
I know he feels haunted by Sophia's disappearance and he is doing everything for her.
And for Carol.
“I need to find tha' little girl, ya understand?Carol…”
His agitated words only confirm my thoughts.
Daryl is a man with a big heart.
Now we are facing each other, eye to eye.
Our bodies are so close that I could just reach out my hand and caress his face.
I would really like to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead with my fingers.
All around us there is a tense silence.
The air seems to become unbreathable.
The rays of the sun that penetrate between the cracks of this stable are reflected in his blue eyes, making them shine like the clear summer sky.
“You know, I like this” I smile, pointing first at me and then at him with my hand.
His right eyebrow lifts upwards curiously.
“It's nice talking to you.Without arguing, I mean”
Daryl smiles slightly, one corner of his lips lifting slightly.
I blush and squirm in embarrassment.
He's really beautiful, I think.
To ease my embarrassment I reach out a hand towards him.
Daryl looks at it without understanding my intentions.
“We can start again from here.What do you say?"
His eyes linger on my hand for a few more seconds then return to my face, straight into mine.
His arm slowly lifts and his hand, strong and calloused, wraps around mine.
It's not a real handshake but more like his hand engulfing mine, making it almost disappear.
An innocent gesture and yet I feel a fire burning inside me.
“I have to go now” the archer mutters under his breath.
I nod.
But despite this, neither of us moves.
A weird energy crackles in the air.
I can't hear any sound other than the desperate beating of my heart.
His eyes look like an immense ocean where I fear I will drown.
Or maybe it's just too late.
I'm already drowning.
His gaze, imperceptible for a moment, touches my lips.
His lips barely open, remaining ajar just enough to be able to see the tip of his tongue which comes out in a flicker to moisten his lips.
A deafening whinny snaps us out of our thoughts and Daryl's hand suddenly lets go of mine as if he too had just woken up from a daydream.
I watch as he takes a step back and lowers his head as if he's embarrassed.
As if this was too much for him.
“I have to go” he repeats.
“Okay” I squeak and then clear my throat.
His eyes are still focused on the old floorboards and some strands of hair fall in front of his eyes, hiding those wonderful blue pools from me.
I feel a tingling in my hand and without realizing it I am already raising it towards the man's face.
I observe my hand as if it had a life of its own, unable to stop me, while the tips of my fingers push aside some locks, finding those eyes to which I feel attracted for no real reason.
What do I know about this mysterious man after all?
What do I really know about him?
Why do I feel so damn attracted to him?
In my few past relationships I have always taken things very calmly.
Never love at first sight, any irresistible attraction.
Why now with him does it seem like I have no control over my thoughts?
And apparently not even that of my body because after having pushed aside his hair my fingers touch his forehead until they reach his cheekbone where my timid exploration is interrupted when the man grabs my wrist.
I think he's going to shove me away but he doesn't.
His fingers gently tighten around my wrist, his thumb caressing the abrasions on it.
I could even swear I felt his face tilt slightly towards my hand, pressing his cheek against my palm.
His stubble tickles my hand, awakening a flight of butterflies in my stomach.
His stormy gaze knots my thoughts, leaving me pleasantly confused.
Who knows what fantastic sensations his hands could unleash on me.
Oh my God...
I feel suffocated under his gaze.
“Be careful out there.Come back in one piece, okay?” I murmur in a strangled voice.
“Yes ma’am”
Daryl gives my wrist one last gentle squeeze and lets it go, turning his back on me and disappearing through the door.
I bring my hand to my chest, clasping my wrist with the other hand.
What the hell just happened?
I turn my head, a sweet fear grips my insides making my breathing irregular and without being able to help it a broad smile spreads across my face.
Carol was right.
I'll have to thank her.
I shake my head in disbelief.
I was so scared to face Daryl that now I can't believe how it turned out.
I leave the stable determined to find Glenn, I have to find him before he leaves.
With a light head still full of thoughts about the archer I return to the farm where not far from it I see Glenn coming towards me.
“Hey, Maggie told me you need a favor”
When I reach him I grab his arm and drag him with me.
“I need your help.I want to go to town with you”
Glenn nods.
“Ok but I don't think Rick is against it.Why do you need my help?” the boy asks me curiously.
I look around looking for the officer and find him almost immediately.
He and Shane are standing in front of the hood of an old Cherokee studying what appears to be a map.
"Come with me.You'll understand" I reply, focused on my goal, dragging Glenn with me.
I know Rick would have nothing to say about my wanting to go on a run with Glenn but I want something back.
Something that belongs to me.
And I want to do it right.
I want them to trust me.
When we arrived near the car, the first to notice us was Shane.
His features are serious and impassive, his necklace with the number 22 shines around his neck, hit by a ray of sunshine.
I maintain eye contact as I take my final steps to reach the two men.
The man nudges Rick and nods at me.
The officer's eyes lift from the map to rest on my face.
He smiles kindly at me unlike his friend who continues to look at me with a smug look.
Sumbitch.
“Hey Rick.I'm going to town with Glenn.I need some things and then the two of us will do it faster”
The man's blue eyes observe me carefully, then he nods.
“If you feel like it I can't stop you” he replies.
All right.
Now the hard part.
Seeing that I make no sign of moving, Shane intervenes.
“Do you need anything else, kid?”
His stupid question makes my hands itch.
God I want to punch this dickhead so bad.
Rick swings his worried gaze between me and his friend.
Maybe my thoughts are well painted on my face, after all, why hide how I feel towards that idiot?
He doesn't seem to make a secret of it so...
"I want my weapon back, Rick" I state turning my attention towards the only one who has the power to decide while completely ignoring Shane.
“No way”
“I didn't ask you” I reply without even sparing him a glance.
Shane takes a threatening step towards me but I'm not intimidated.
I'm not moving.
I don't even look at him.
My eyes stay on Rick the entire time.
“I know Hersel's rules and I'm not going around the camp armed, I just want my knife for walking around town.Once I get back I'll give it back”
Glenn moves closer to Rick.
“We can trust her, Rick”
Thanks Glenn, you did just what I needed.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Shane glaring at him.
Rick seems to think about it but then he nods, thus agreeing to my request.
Shane seems irritated by Rick's choice but he doesn't say a word.
He just looks at me like I was a walker.
I grab Glenn's hand and turn on my heel, dragging him with me.
After not even a couple of steps Rick calls me.
“Hey Summer!Don't you ask me where your weapon is?” he asks me raising an eyebrow.
“No need.I know where it is.I saw it a few days ago”
Shane's gaze narrows curiously while Rick smiles amused by my answer.
“So why didn't you just take it, kid?” the latter asks me.
I shrug with a nonchalance worthy of an actress.
“Because I want you to understand that I'm not just a mouth to feed or another stupid worry.I want to be an integral part of this group and I want to do things according to the rules”
Shane shakes his head almost amused.
“We'll see, girl” he mutters, returning to focus all his attention on the map spread out on the hood of the car.
Rick follows close behind.
So without letting go of Glenn's hand I start walking again towards Dale's RV where my weapon is hidden in a locker.
“But didn't you say you needed my help?” my friend points out laughing, giving me a slight push with his shoulder.
His playful gaze lingers on mine.
“Oh but you did” I reply, getting into the RV and going to open the cabinet above the bed.
I grab my knife and put it in the waistband of my jeans and then I turn towards Glenn who in the meantime has also gotten into the vehicle.
“Rick trusts you.Your support was decisive for him to accept my proposal”
“Make sense.You know, you're lucky that your friend here is a big shot” boasts Glenn, puffing his chest out and placing his hands on his hips.
I roll my eyes.
We both smile.
“Come on big shot, let's go.I want to get back before dark" I tell him pushing him out of the RV.
“Listen, I'll see you at the car in a few minutes.I want to let Carol know that I'm coming with you, okay?”
“See you at the car” he nods, leaving me alone.
Wow!
Who would have thought that today would go so well?
My mood has definitely improved compared to this morning.
I got my weapon back.
I clarified with Maggie.
I'll go to town to find what I need.
And…
Oh c'mon!
The main reason for my good mood has blue eyes and smells like the summer woods.
As I leave the farm behind I go looking for Carol, my head dreaming and my heart full of Daryl.
On my way I am stopped by a voice calling me.
It's Lori.
I observe her curiously as she approaches, looking around with fear.
As if she didn't want to be seen.
“Everything is fine?Is Carl okay?” I ask her as soon as she reaches me.
Her son is the first thing that came to my mind when I saw that scared look on her face.
“Yeah, yeah.He's fine.Glenn told me you were going with him to look for supplies and I was wondering if you could do me a favor”
I look at her confused but nod.
Lori and I haven't talked much since my arrival and I haven't had the chance to get to know her well yet but that doesn't mean I could deny her a favor.
Her tired and drawn face worries me.
“Is everything okay Lori?” I ask her again seeing her get agitated.
Her gaze wanders from one side of the field to the other.
“Everything is fine.I just need you to get me some things” she replies handing me a small paper note.
What is all this secrecy?
Having really reached the end of the world, do some women still have shame to talk about periods and tampons?
Why did she have to write it?
Amused by her excessive shyness, I grab the piece of paper, giving a slight peek at its contents.
I remain motionless staring at the paper.
Incredulous.
The smile on my lips quickly fades.
“I would like to be able to count on your confidentiality.Do you think you can do it?” Lori adds in a whisper.
I nod unable to answer.
“I…I don't want to burden you with this but you're the only one who can do it.I can't ask Glenn.And I don't want anyone else to know.Nobody” she adds, agitated, pressing on the last word.
Copy that.
Rick doesn't have to know.
I shake my head from side to side trying to get rid of my amazement.
It's none of my business if Lori doesn't want to tell Rick and I will certainly keep my mouth shut.
“You have my total discretion, Lori" I reassure her by squeezing her upper arm.
She chews on her lower lip nervously as she looks around.
A light gasp from her makes me jump and following her gaze I notice Shane.
Standing on the porch, with his back resting against the white wooden planks, he is observing us.
He has his arms crossed over his chest and the sole of his right foot resting on the railing in front of him.
His haunted eyes follow every movement of the woman in my company.
Lori squirms under Shane's gaze and shivers.
“I have to go” she says quickly.
Without another word she walks towards the house, slowing down as she approaches it.
Lori and Shane exchange another long look until Rick comes to their right and catches their attention.
Lori jumps again and feigning indifference, badly I dare say, she corrects her trajectory by heading towards her husband.
Rick, unaware of that small exchange of glances between his wife and his best friend, passes his arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple and then heads together towards their tent.
I turn my attention back to Shane, studying his every move.
His large dark eyes are agitated, haunted as he chews on the inside of his cheeks.
His nostrils are flaring with anger.
I look down again at the note Lori handed me and at that moment something clicks in my brain.
The look between her and Andrea this morning when Beth mentioned Shane now takes on a whole new meaning.
Lori and Shane had an affair, probably when everyone thought Rick was dead.
Oh shit.
Oh man…I mean I'm nobody to judge but I honestly wouldn't want to be in Lori's shoes right now.
And I thought that my life was messed up.
The sound of footsteps violently trampling the ground sends a shiver down my spine.
I already know who it is before he says a word.
Putting on a relaxed expression, I lift my face to meet Shane's crazy gaze.
Without being noticed I put the note in the back pocket of my jeans.
The man gets dangerously close, invading my personal space.
He is so close that his smell stings my nostrils and makes me sick.
His eyes pierce mine, leaving me paralyzed.
I am aware that I am alone, at this moment of the morning everyone is already busy with their chores so there is no one who can help me.
I have to deal with him myself.
“Do you need something?”
I try to use a cheeky tone, as if I'm bored of him right now and not totally paralyzed by fear.
But Shane is smart.
Too smart.
He knows I might know something.
I tried to hide the tremor of my hands by digging them into the pockets of my jeans.
“I'm in a bit of a hurry Shane, if you don't mind?”
I try to dodge him but he steps in front of me with a threatening expression.
“Not a word, kid” he whispers to me, bringing his lips too close to my ear.
I can't help myself and a shiver runs through me.
Feeling satisfied with my reaction, the man walks away without saying a word.
I feel the sweat dripping down my back, soaking my shirt.
From now on I will have to sleep with one eye open.
Without wasting time I reach Glenn who, seeing my shocked face, gets out of the car and comes towards me.
I'm sure that my already naturally pale complexion is currently cadaverous.
“Are you okay, Summer?”
His agitated voice is an octave higher than usual.
I am fine?
No, absolutely no.
Shane is dangerous and I don't know if anyone else has noticed and they pretending nothing happened or if this son of a bitch is so good that he knows how to play his cards well and let everyone buy it.
Not receiving an answer, Glenn opens the passenger door and helps me get into the car, then gets on the other side and starts the engine driving away from the farm.
During the journey he does nothing but give me worried looks.
He knows that it would be useless to ask questions and that when I'm ready I'll talk.
I observe the landscape passing quickly outside the window, the sun high in the sky indicates that the first part of the morning has already flown by.
A couple of walkers wander undisturbed in the tall grass on the sides of the road.
I rest my forehead against the cold glass of the window and close my eyes.
I think of Daryl who could be anywhere right now and in my heart I really hope that he is okay and that he comes back safe and sound.
I feel the car slow down and when I open my eyes I can already see the outlines of the city buildings.
I dig my fingers into the flesh of my thighs.
The doubt consumes me but I can't do otherwise...
I promised Lori that I would keep her secret, this is true, but this was before Shane threatened me.
I can't ignore it and I have to tell someone, so that if something happens to me he doesn't go unpunished and above all he can no longer be a danger to the others.
Once we reach our destination, Glenn parks a little further away from the main road and turns off the engine.
When his hand is on the door handle I grab his knee forcefully, forcing him to turn towards me.
I feel my eyes fill with tears, a few drops escape my control and crash onto my thighs wrapped in the jeans.
I cannot believe it.
I thought I was done with this shit the moment I ran away from him but here I am.
Dealing with a fucking psychopath again.
Once again submissive to the will of another man.
But if I succeed the first time I can do it again, right?
This time there is a difference.
This time I'm not alone.
I have Glenn.
I have Carol.
I have Daryl.
And a lot of people I can call friends now.
The fingers of the man at my side wrap gently around mine, which still grip his knee.
“Summer, whatever it is, you know that you can trust me.Let me help you”
His plea tightens my heart.
Glenn, just like Daryl, is offering to help a complete stranger even if it means going against his own family.
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On Saturdays, instead of lazing in bed, I helped dad with his beloved garden.
Every Saturday morning him, me and my mother all had breakfast together.
We spent more than an hour sitting at the table eating mom's pancakes.
We always made fun of her because she always came out with some mess.
Her pancakes were always too raw or too burnt or she used salt instead of sugar.
And we stood there, laughing together.
Happy.
We told each other about our week and what we wanted to do.
Dad never missed the opportunity to kiss her temple or her cheek and I watched them enraptured.
Almost jealous that I too have not yet found a love so great, so all-encompassing.
Mom, oh yeah she knew me well!
She always knew exactly what was going on in my mind.
“Don't worry, darling, one day you too will find the man of your dreams” she said to me one morning after my father steals another kiss from her, earning my embarrassed look and a loud snort from the man sitting next to her.
“Don't be ridiculous, honey.Summer is still too young” he replied almost angrily, getting up from the table and starting to collect the now empty plates.
Mom and I giggled in unison.
His jealousy towards his only adored daughter was well known in the house and we often teased him about it.
I straightened my back and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Mom was much younger than me when you met” I replied piqued with a sly and mischievous smile.
“It was different” he muttered, his back to us as he stood at the kitchen sink.
More giggles followed his words.
Now in the oblivion of the death I can remember many small details that I didn't even notice at the time.
For example, mom's slightly pale complexion.
She thought it was a little seasonal flu.
“I'm fine, I'm fine” she had repeated several times that week.
“It's just that the other evening I took out the trash without putting on my jacket and the air was cold”
And instead it was the disease that was slowly and inexorably taking over her body.
The light that morning reflected on the marble top of the kitchen counter, making her large eyes shine, hypnotizing me with their beauty.
Sun that was blindingly reflected even in her long golden hair.
They remind me the ripe wheat in summer.
That morning she was still wearing her pajamas with a photo of our family on the shirt, an old Christmas present from me.
Dad, for his part, was wearing an old sweatpants and his old, tattered Star Wars sweatshirt, a sweatshirt that mom hated so much that she even tried to make it disappear but in the end she had given in to the irresistible pout of her beloved husband.
So they had reached a compromise, as they always did.
They almost never argued, they always worked hard to find a meeting point.
So in the end they came to the conclusion that if my father didn't want to see his beloved sweatshirt in the garbage he can could only wear it during his gardening sessions.
My father turned slowly, keeping his large eyes, the same color and intensity of soft, hot chocolate, fixed on me.
“You're still a kid, I don't see the point in discussing it now, right?” he repeated but this time looking at my mother.
Her, with a shrug and a sly smile, got up from her chair to reach his side.
Her small and delicate hands found my father's face and after caressing his cheeks with the tips of her fingertips, she placed a quick kiss on his lips.
“I'm sorry but this time I'm with her” she whispered to him and then turned her back on us and headed towards the stairs.
“Have fun in the garden” she greeted us with a quick wave of her hand, leaving me in the throes of laughter and his husband with the signs of betrayal on his face.
I knew that she was secretly happy that I loved spending my Saturday morning among his flowers because, before I was old enough to help him, my father forced my mother to do it and she hated it but she loved him more and she indulged him.
Now, however, she had Saturday morning all to herself and she spent it locked in the bathroom, immersed in a tub of hot water with the foam gently lapping her body and a good book to keep her company.
“Come on, I'll help you” I huffed, getting up from my seat and joining my father near the sink.
“The sooner we finish washing the dishes and the sooner we can go in the garden”
My father's eyes moved from the stairs, from where his other half had disappeared, to rest them on me again with a look I had never seen on him before.
A sad look but also infinitely proud and full of love.
As if he was really realizing that he no longer had that five-year-old girl next to him who asked him to carry her to bed because her little legs were tired after spending the afternoon in the park.
No, in front of him, he now saw a beautiful and capable young woman, ready to make many men lose their minds.
Men who wouldn't have been him.
He just wanted to be the only man in her life because he would never make her suffer.
Never.
Even if at the ends of the world it had happened...
He broke her heart.
We washed the dishes in silence and then always in silence we went to the back garden of our beautiful little house.
Washington was a really nice place to live.
In that area, in this quiet and peaceful suburb, him and my mother had purchased this small house, and decided at the time to fill it with love and children.
Love had never been lacking but alas the children had not arrived.
After years of painful miscarriages they had decided to give up and when they were thinking about adoption I arrived.
The story of the discovery of my existence has always brought tears in my eye because I was finally able to understand how much I was loved without any reservations from the very first moment, since I was just a small mass of cells measuring a few millimetres.
“It was a hot morning, summer was upon us” my mother's words resonate clear and strong in this darkness that death is.
“For a few mornings I had been feeling strangely dizzy and your father kept telling me he wanted to take me to Doctor Monroe.But I didn't want to go and I knew why.I was afraid.Afraid that the doctor would give me yet another bad news.I knew my period was late but I didn't want to give myself any false hope.I knew that soon the blood loss would confirm to me that my body was not capable of caring for my child”
Her big green eyes were a reflection of my own.
Shiny with tears and unconditional love.
“So that morning, after your father left for work, I went to the pharmacy to buy some pregnancy tests.Your father found me sitting on the bathroom floor, four pregnancy tests all positive placed in front of me.I was crying so much that I couldn't even find the strength to say a single word”
“God, when I saw her like that, on that floor, my heart stopped for a moment”
At the sound of his raspy voice we both turned our heads, looking behind us.
Dad was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes full of love.
He was wearing a blue sweater from which the collar of a white shirt protruded and his legs were wrapped in a pair of dark jeans.
The graying hair at his temples was elegantly combed.
Looking at him like that, with the light from the fireplace reflecting elegant shadows on his face, I could perfectly understand why my mother had fallen for him so hard to the point of deciding to get married at the age of eighteen.
We were so enraptured by our confidences that we didn't realize that it was already 5pm and that my father had returned from work.
With a small push he move away from the door and joined us on the sofa.
He kissed my mother on the head and then did the same to me and sat next to me, his strong arm around my shoulders and his scent filling my lungs and heart.
“I sat next to her and I started crying too” he admitted with a hint of shame coloring his cheeks.
“I should have been a man and consoled her, told her that everything would be fine…but instead I was stunned and scared.Full of hope and fear.I didn't want to go through that hell again and above all I didn't want her to go through it again"
While he spoke he never took his eyes off the woman he had promised to love and protect for his whole life.
My mother spoke up again.
“We decided to take it slow.We waited three weeks to go for an ultrasound.It was June 20th.The first day of summer we discovered of your existence" my mother whispered with the sweetest look I had ever seen on her face.
“That's why we decided to call you Summer” she added immediately after stroking my arm.
It was the first time I heard the true origin of my name.
I was ecstatic and euphoric.
I loved the idea that my name had such a deep meaning, full of a story of revenge on life.
“It's a wonderful name.I'm sorry I despised it when I was younger” I giggled sheepishly, wiping away the tears that had unconsciously begun to spill from my eyes, making them both laugh out loud.
Yeah, because I hated it when I was a child.
I hated my name because some kids at school teased me by calling me Winter or Spring.
“Don't worry my love, just thank me for not letting your father choose the name” mom giggled, wiping away my tears with the tip of her thumb and earning an indignant look from my father.
“Hey!Leia is a beautiful name” my father replied piqued pointing a finger at her.
"Seriously?Did you really want to name me after a Star Wars character?” I squeaked, my voice an octave higher, turning completely towards him and meeting his playful gaze.
He ruffled the hair on the top of my head and stood up.
"Women!You don't understand anything about good films” he muttered, leaving us alone.
Laughing, I hugged my mother eagerly, burying my face in her warm and welcoming chest.
Her skin smelled like home, security and love to me.
Her delicate hands caressed my back with slow, gentle movements.
“Thank you for sharing this story with me” I smiled at her thanking her and then got up to go find my father and continue to tease him a little about the origins of my name.
My mind quickly returns to my old memory of that distant autumn morning in the garden.
The silence continued to linger between us as we continued to dig small furrows on the ground with our hands wrapped in sturdy garden gloves.
I knew my father was very jealous of me and I was afraid I had overdone the jokes that morning so I was mustering up the courage to apologize for going too far with the joke but before I could open my mouth he did.
“I know you're a woman now.I'm not stupid.You're 24 years old and you've been living alone for over a year now...it's just that...that you'll always be my little girl for me, you know?”
His words filled my eyes with tears.
His eyes instead were fixed on his dirty and worn gloves.
He dropped, sitting on the cold, hard ground.
His legs raised and his arms resting on his knees.
I felt paralyzed, kneeling in front of him.
In front of that man who, despite the endless hard blows that life has reserved for him, did nothing but give me unconditional love.
After a few moments of silence his eyes found mine.
“The most selfish part of me just wants to keep you safe but I know it's right for you to have your own life, for you to find a man who truly loves you.Someone who can take care of you when I can no longer do so”
The mere idea that one day he would no longer be with me shattered my heart and made me tremble.
I shook my head to chase away that horrible possibility.
“Dad” I whispered with a low voice, avoiding his gaze so as not to show him my pain.
His reference to the fact that he might one day die had shaken me to the core.
I knew that, in many many years, it could happen but I always avoided thinking about it.
“No Summer, listen”
His hand, strong but at the same time capable of disarming kindness, squeezed my arm.
My eyes goes immediately on him.
We were both filled with such immense love that it was impossible to explain in words.
"I'm not angry.Really.I just want you to make the right choice.May you choose someone who treats you well, who listens to you and who loves you as you deserve to be loved”
We were both on the verge of tears.
I understood how much that small admission cost him and so, trying to lighten the moment, I hugged him quickly, risking making both of us fall.
I sank forcefully into his arms, always so warm and welcoming, basking in all his love.
“Big shoes to fit for the man that come” I whispered against his chest hoping he would understand that I would never settle for someone who wasn't at least a shred of what he was.
“You will always be my first true love, daddy” I added, enjoying that moment of pure love.
The memory dissipates from my mind as if it had been a pile of leaves blown away by a gust of wind, leaving me alone again in the darkness of death.
It's weird that death chose this memory to bring back to my mind.
A sweet but deeply painful memory.
And maybe that's exactly the point.
Pain.
The pain both physical and mental that continues to follow me even after death.
Why?
Why does it have to hurt so much?
Wasn't it enough that my death had been painful?
Why do I have to continue to suffer even now?
The pain is all around me so intense and immense that I don't understand where it comes from.
I don't feel the contours of my body, just a pain that I can't place.
A costant pain, almost annoying.
Why does it still hurt?
Why is there only darkness and pain?
Pain and darkness.
Where is the heaven?
Where are my fucking wings and my white clouds to rest cradled by the hand of God?
Where is my mom?
I thought that once I died I had a chance to be again with her.
To live my eternal rest in her loving arms, lulled by the sound of her angelic lullabies.
So there is nothing after death except darkness and pain?
No choirs of angels or white lights?
Fuck.
Nice swindle.
After a few moments or an infinity of centuries, I have no sense of time in this dark and desolate place, another wave of pain arrives but this time there is something different...
I can feel my fingers.
Slowly and with immense effort it seems that my body is regaining its contours.
Its shape.
First I contract the tips of my fingers, I hear the slight crunch of the dry leaves beneath them, then I move on to those of my feet.
They are there and they seem to work.
After moments or hours I feel my head.
I barely move it with absolute caution, I moving it only a few inches but the movement causes a stinging pain at the base of my neck.
Then that pain again and this time a gasp escapes my lips.
“Please stop”
My voice sounds unknown to my ears, hoarse and croaking.
And finally I find my eyes which, with an inhuman effort, reopen.
But there is no light in front of me, there is no sky...there is only a huge dark shadow.
I squeeze my eyelids tight.
Now a new feeling pervades me.
Fear.
That shadow is here for me.
It came to get me.
It is the death that, wrapped in its dark cloak, has decided to come and claim its new victim.
That pain again.
And now I know where it comes from.
From my side, at rib level.
But this time the pain is followed by a voice.
So does death have a voice?
I try to concentrate on opening my eyes again and very slowly I succeed, my eyelids flicker slightly in the process but after a few moments my vision adjusts.
The blurred edges of the death take on a sharp and decisive profile.
There is a man in front of me.
My weak heart jumps into my throat giving me a rush of adrenaline that gives me the strength to bring my right hand to my thigh in search of my knife but my hand finds nothing along its path.
Where's my knife?
And my machete?
“If ya're looking fer yer weapons, I have ’em”
And even if the words come distorted in my brain I understand what he's telling me.
Damn.
The man speaks again but no sound reaches my ears.
I try to concentrate all my attention on his lips, which are still moving, to understand the meaning of the words that come out but without great results.
So I go back to focusing on his eyes.
Are they… clear?
They appear light blue, his eyebrows furrowed.
The hair, short on the sides and longer on the top, frames a face with a square and firm jaw, covered with a light layer of beard.
Some dark blonde locks fall lazily over his eyes making his gaze even more menacing and scary.
On his upper lip, on the left, a small mole stands out.
His lips move again and this time I catch the last words of the sentence.
“…name?”
I look at him confused, trying to answer in turn.
Of course I look like shit right now.
Sprawled on the ground, in this remote forest of Georgia, with filthy clothes and the look of a psychopath.
“What…” I clear my throat.
Wrong move.
It burn, everything burn.
But I have to speak before this stranger decides it's easier to kill me.
"What did you say?" I gasp painfully.
“Ya got a name?” the man repeats slowly this time, pronouncing the words as if he were talking to a stupid person.
A strong southern accent colors his words.
His tone is threatening, as if I really could be a threat to him right now.
Is he really serious?
Is this the way to talk to another human being with one foot already in the grave?
And if before I was scared now I only see red.
Just anger.
“Yeah, I have a name.You no?Didn't your mother give you one?”
For a moment his look seems surprised but it lasts a fraction of a second, such a short period of time that for a moment I think I imagined it.
His arms rise in front of him.
His large muscles flex sinuously beneath his sunburned skin.
A look of pure hatred dances in his eyes like the flames of hell.
And if I used to have to worry about an angry redneck now I have to worry about an angry redneck with a huge crossbow, crossbow aimed right at my face.
My father was right, my damn sarcasm would get me in trouble one day.
Shit.
I close my eyes trying to calm my nerves.
There is nothing I can do at the moment, I only have two paths I can take.
Either I bite my tongue and try to be civil to this stranger or I end up with an arrow between my eyes.
And the man's subsequent words confirm this to me.
“Yer name” says the man firmly, adding immediately after “Before I lose my patience and put a bolt between yer pretty eyes”
Inhaling deeply I try to lift my head but to no avail so I just reopen my eyes and point them into the eyes of the archer who towers menacingly over me.
“Summer.That's my name”
I maintain eye contact as he studies me intently, trying to figure out if he can trust me.
Which is saying a lot.
What on earth could I do to him if I can't even lift my head without feeling nauseous?
During his silence I take the opportunity to study him in turn.
He has broad shoulders, defined muscles that adhere almost indecently to the sleeveless t-shirt he is wearing.
His chest is so massive it makes me shiver.
The muscles in his arms are tense as they hold that weapon, a weapon so simple but so scary at the same time.
My gaze travels down his legs, the massive muscles of his thighs barely squeezed into a pair of filthy jeans.
I see him take a step forward and I reflexively tense up, stopping his advance.
Maybe he doesn't want to hurt me.
Maybe if I behave, this harsh stranger could mean the difference between life and death.
The difference between my life and my death.
“Why are you lying there?”
What the fuck?
What the fuck is that question?
What on earth can a person do stand still on a forest floor during an apocalypse?
What does he think I'm doing?
That I'm getting a tan?
But gathering every ounce of self-control I opt for a polite response, something that can explain the current pitiful state in which I find myself.
“I haven't eaten or drunk for days.I think I lost consciousness..." I whispered defeatedly, looking at the sky in search of the sun.
It's lower in the sky than I remember.
How long have I been lying here?
“I lost consciousness maybe an hour, maximum two hours ago.I'm waiting to die...so... if you want to finish the job that this fucking apocalypse has started...please be my guest”
I say the last words with a placid resignation.
Maybe continuing to live is the wrong choice.
Maybe there is nothing in Atlanta and even if there was something, what would I have to survive for?
I've lost everything.
I lost everyone.
After endless moments his voice breaks the silence around us again.
“Where are ya from?”
“Washington”
“Where were ya headed?”
Why lie now.
“Atlanta.I was looking for salvation”
“Are ya alone?”
“Yes”
And this hurts more than death.
Yes, I'm alone.
Completely and hopelessly alone.
Our little conversation, more like a little interrogation I dare say, ends here.
I close my eyes again placing my fate in the dirty strong hands of this man with eyes like the sky.
Eyes that seem to hide a kaleidoscope of emotions behind a wall of aggression.
I try to regulate my breathing.
I don't want to show my weakness because I'm not.
I am strong.
I walked for days, trying to survive with all my strength.
I hear the leaves crunching under his huge boots, the sound seems to be right next to my ears now.
“Take it”
His voice sounds less angry than it did a few minutes ago so I risk a glance towards his feet.
I open my eyes and take a few seconds to make sense of what I'm seeing.
The archer is bent on his knees, the enormous crossbow is tied to his back by a strap that crosses his chest.
His hand is stretched out towards me and in it there is a bottle of water.
Trying to channel all my strength into my arms, I use them to leverage myself and try to sit up and magically I succeed.
At least I can do it without throw up.
Great.
I bring my hand closer to the bottle and I notice that a slight tremor runs through my fingers, I don't know if it is due to my close experience with death or due to my proximity to this mysterious man.
The stern frown on his face doesn't disappear even when I grab the bottle and thank him with a slight nod.
I try to unscrew the cap several times but the plastic cap continually slips from my weak grip.
The man snorts, arrogantly taking the bottle out of my hands, being careful not to touch my fingers and with a quick and decisive movement unscrews the cap.
When I think that he is about to give me the bottle back I am petrified by his next move.
He leans towards me slightly bringing the bottle directly to my lips.
I think he realized that I don't have the strength to do it.
Docilely I bring my lips to the bottle, welcoming the first drops with trepidation.
When the water touches my tongue I feel my eyes fill with tears.
I drink slowly, closing my eyes, one sip at a time.
Part of me would like to swallow all the water in a single gulp but I am aware that I would only risk to throw up and feeling worse so, when I think I have drunk enough for the moment, I move my lips away.
The archer closes the bottle and drops it on my lap.
I think in his jargon of rude gestures and grunts this means take it.
I watch him as he stands up grabbing his backpack lying near my feet.
And now?
What happen?
Will he go?
Will he leaves me here alone to die?
As grateful as I am for his kind gesture, a bottle of water certainly won't save my life.
And the night is getting closer.
I have to find a safe place and quickly too.
“Can ya walk?”
His hoarse voice pierces my ears and reaches my brain.
Confused by his question, I look at his shoulders, his crossbow...and I can't understand if I can trust this man.
I try to get up, my legs are shaking but they seem to hold me up.
"I can try.Why?"
But a sudden swish catches our attention.
In the distance I hear growls.
Biters.
Shit.
I'll die.
I'm a burden right now and I'm more than sure that a person would never risk his life for a stranger.
But for the umpteenth time he surprised me.
He raises his hand in my direction, beckoning me with his fingers.
“Move” he orders me, leaving me perplexed.
In his eyes there is no agitation, there is no fear.
This man knows what he's doing.
He doesn't fear these fucking monsters.
He approaches me threateningly and I take a step back.
"M'not gonna hurt ya.But if ya don't move your ass I'll leave ya here.Ya understand, sunshine?”
It's the longest sentence I've ever heard him say.
His tone is authoritative, his voice confident with that sweet southern lilt that makes his words sticky and sweet as honey.
I am sure that he will do what he says as I am sure that he doesn't want to hurt me.
He had all the time available to do it and yet he decided to help me and he intends to do it again by taking me away with him.
When I'm about to answer him the growls get louder.
I only have time to register a movement behind me and as soon as I turn around what I see is a biter with an arrow stuck between his eyes.
My gaze returns to him, he has already lowered his crossbow and with one last step he approaches me leaving only a few steps of distance between our bodies.
I can feel the heat emanating from his large and tensed body.
Then without any warning he takes another step and grabs my wrist dragging me away with him.
Dazed and scared, I try to keep up with his pace even though I'm sure he's the one adapting to mine.
How do I know?
As a first clue I would say that his long and strong legs could pump harder than this and secondly his constant hangry scowl accompanied by little snorts every time my tired feet get caught in the vegetation.
But despite all this, the grip around my wrist doesn't loosen.
"Where do we go?" I pant, trying to concentrate all my mental and physical abilities in this fucking run.
As the archer runs he seems to have no hesitations about where his next destination is.
He stomps his feet on the ground with determination.
I risk a look behind me and I realize that at least a dozen of those horrible beings are following us.
If he had been alone he would have eliminated them without hesitation but now his goal is to get to a safe place to save us.
He knows that I am unable to defend myself and this mortifies me.
If he dies today it will only be my fault.
With this thought I try to pump my thighs as much as I can, increasing the pace of my step making it more confident and decisive.
In the air of this late afternoon at the end of summer the only sound present is the frantic panting of two human beings trying to survive.
Our boots pound hard on the dry, sun-baked ground.
And after what seems like an eternity we emerge from the woods.
I look around curiously.
We are at the top of a hill and in the distance there is a beautiful farm that seems to have remained untouched since the end of the world.
It almost seems like a place out of time.
A bit as if it were a painting, those beautiful paintings on canvas that my mom loved so much to paint.
The man tugs on my arm, silently inviting me with a look to run faster because here we are.
Finally here we are.
That farm is our salvation.
My eyes are focused on those white wooden walls.
For the first time I feel a small spark of hope inside me.
Maybe I won't die, not today at least.
My feet live a life of their own and accelerate thanks to the adrenaline that now flows through my veins.
Too caught up in my own euphoria I don't notice that the archer has stopped so my run is interrupted so abruptly that my neck is jerked violently.
I stop panting, looking at him as if he suddenly had two heads.
"We are almost there.Let's go” I pant impatiently.
But he's not even listening to me.
His back is to me and without releasing his grip on my wrist he uses his free hand to pull a gun from the back pocket of his jeans and uses it to fire a shot at the biters.
“Duck” he orders me, letting me go and turning his head slightly in my direction.
Instinctively I obey and bend down on my knees, holding my arms over my head.
I don't even have time to catch my breath before a hail of bullets starts behind me that lasts just in a couple of minutes.
Or at least so I think.
When I raise my head and move my arms I hear other footsteps coming behind us.
I turn my head over my left shoulder and see three men advancing towards us.
One of them is very tall, he is wearing a short-sleeved shirt where the top buttons are open revealing a muscular chest to my eyes and his legs are wrapped in a baggy trousers.
He has a shaved head and a hard, menacing look.
A shiver runs down my spine.
This man is dangerous.
Everything in him screams stay the fuck away if you want to live.
His attitude reminds me too much of that of his men.
I shift my attention to the man in the center.
He is a boy, he seems to be my age and has sweet asian features.
He could be chinese or korean.
He is wearing a simple t-shirt with a pair of jeans and a baseball cap on his head.
He looks scared and uncertain but when his eyes rest on me I only see concern.
I don't know if it's worry for himself or for me.
The last man wears a police uniform, his curly hair touches the back of his neck and a light veil of beard covers his face.
His gaze is attentive, he is definitely a cop, but there is something else in him.
His eyes seem haunted by something very painful.
He seems tired, as if a burden is weighing on him and slowly crushing him but despite this he must continue to defend the people he loves.
I watch them come towards us, all three armed, without ever taking their eyes off my figure crouched on the ground.
Maybe I should get up.
I have to make them understand that I have no bad intentions.
That I'm not a threat and I don't even want to become one.
But as soon as I try to move a threatening voice behind me stops my gesture.
“Kneel” the archer whispers in my ear making me shiver for an infinite number of reasons that I can't even understand.
The cold barrel of a gun presses against the back of my neck.
Really?
Did he take me out of that hell, save me from certain death just so he could kill me in a public execution?
I try to ignore the cold in my heart and the sweat that burns my eyes, I would like to rub them with the back of my hand but I avoid any movement to avoid finding a bullet stuck in my brain.
I kneel but I don't look down.
Hell no!
If they want to kill me, if he wants to kill me, they will have to do it by looking me in the eyes.
If I have to die I will do it with dignity.
"M'sorry.But I have to protect ma people” the archer murmurs as he moves, sliding to my side without ever taking the gun away from my head.
I risk a glance in his direction and strangely I find him staring at me.
His blue eyes seem to look beyond my kneeling figure, seem to spy directly on my thoughts.
Our gazes are chained.
I certainly won't be the first to lower my gaze.
I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated and trembling.
Before his three friends reach us, the man who keeps his gun pointed at my temple, turns his gaze in front of him and then speaks.
I run as hard as I can, pushing my legs with all the strength I have in my body.
I feel the muscles contracting painfully, I feel my chest tightening in a painful vice.
My lungs burn.
Yet with every step I feel more and more free.
Free.
What a beautiful thing.
Beautiful but scary.
But also exciting.
I still can't believe I did it.
That I really did it.
I refocus my attention on the present.
I try to avoid the trees that pass by me, blurry and threatening.
A few strands of hair dance in front of my eyes, their trying hardest to distinguish what they see.
The only light illuminating this horrible place comes from the moon, partially hidden tonight by some clouds.
In the air in addition to my labored and agitated breathing, there are the dry leaves crushed with force by my boots and the agitated beating of my heart.
Or maybe that's just in my ears?
Yet it seems so strong to me that I fear it could be heard even miles away.
Then a moan, like a wheeze, catches my attention but only for a moment.
I can't stop now.
I veer my run slightly to the left hoping to go in the opposite direction of the sound, I wouldn't be able to deal with a fucking biter right now.
I just have to keep going.
I have to move.
Put as much distance as possible between me and that godforsaken place.
I can't let him find me.
I have to get as far away as possible before he notices that I'm gone.
Sweat drips heavily from my forehead, making my eyes burn.
The same sweat makes my clothes stick to my body as if they were a second skin.
The fabric of the jeans burns the flesh where my thighs rub, it feels like the skin is fusing with it but I can't stop.
I cannot.
As I fight against my own body, preventing it from giving up, my run comes to an abrupt stop.
Violently.
I feel my head being yanked back, the sudden movement causing me to fall onto my back.
The impact with the hard ground makes the air escape from my lungs with such violence that it almost makes me puke.
The backpack sinks into my skin.
I can feel the outline of each contained object digging small but painful furrows into my skin.
But I don't scream.
One thing I learned is that during an apocalypse silence could mean survival.
I hold back the pain by biting my tongue.
I can't attract any more of those disgusting biters.
Maybe, if I'm lucky enough, I can kill only one of them at the moment.
Without wasting any further time I try to retrieve my father's advice from the recesses of my mind.
“If you end up on the ground my little girl, roll over and grab the first object you find.Get back on your feet and fight.Never turn your back on your enemy”
His big dark eyes come back in my mind.
His sweet smile.
The father that he was before this damn apocalypse fried everyone's brains.
Alive and dead.
Taking a deep breath I roll onto my right side and grab my beloved knife from my thigh I get back to my feet, hesitant but confident.
I can do it.
And as I get into position, spreading my legs a little and bending my knees, a detail catches completely my attention.
The silence.
It's too quiet.
No inhuman sounds.
Just my labored breathing and the rustling of the leaves.
I look around confused but without abandoning my defensive position.
With slow and measured breaths I begin to spin around.
Taking an overview of everything around me.
My brain slowly scans and catalogs everything around me, deciding what is a danger and what is not.
Trees.
Trees.
And more trees.
Around me only an expanse of damn trees.
What the fuck?
I slowly straighten up without ever letting go of my knife.
I lift my free hand and carefully touch the back of my head, right where I felt I was grabbed.
The skin burns and is painful but there is no blood.
This is a good sign.
Even more confused, I take the backpack off my shoulders, in my movement a pang of pain radiates from my side making me hiss.
I've always hated running, I'm not good at it.
Positioning my backpack on the trunk of a fallen tree that is just in front of me, I put the knife back in a safe place.
I open it and look inside.
The flashlight slips through my sweaty fingers.
I sigh trying to calm my nerves and dry my hands by rubbing them on my jeans full of dirt from my recent fall.
Once done with a firm grip I grab the flashlight again and turn it on.
I look around very slowly and I notice something protruding from a tree behind me.
Approaching with caution and trying to keep my step as light and silent as possible, I understand what stopped my run.
A damn branch.
A damned branch that now exposes a lock of my hair as if it were a trophy.
Long black strands of hair that move elegantly swinging in the wind.
I sigh and turn off the flashlight.
I have to save my batteries and above all I don't want to be seen.
I check my limited supplies and another sigh escapes my control.
I won't get very far with just two bottles of water, a dozen granola bars and some clothes.
I should have stolen more things before embarking myself in this total madness.
I left food, water, protection...but I really couldn't live like that anymore.
Living with a man I thought I knew.
I really thought that he loved me more than anything in the world.
For my part, I will love him forever, how could I not...
A knot tightens in my throat but it's not remorse.
Not even fear.
It's just the sadness of having believed so much, almost blindly, in a person who at least lost his mind.
This new world has changed everyone, including me.
But deep down I'm still me.
I have my principles, principles that not even a damned apocalypse can erase.
I know that nowadays only the fittest survive, I'm not stupid.
Kill so as not to be killed.
But I don't want to believe that this is all that remains of humanity.
I believe there is more.
There must be more.
Otherwise why do we live?
What are we fighting for then?
Where has the love gone?
The kindness?
My mother always told me "Be kind to the world and it will be kind to you"
A sad smile graze my lips while the lump in my throat extends down into my stomach at the thought of my mother.
I'm almost happy that she didn't live enough to see the disastrous end of our wonderful family.
And the usual thought comes back to my mind showing off, almost mocking me.
If she were alive, would dad have met the same fate?
But unfortunately I will never have the answer for this question.
I forcefully fight back the tears, I can't cry.
Not here.
Not now.
Swallowing a small sip of water I decided to get back on the road.
This time without running.
The moon is still high in the sky, which means that it will be at least another three or four hours before anyone notices that I'm gone.
I look around trying to reorganize my ideas and understand how to move.
The smartest move would be to head south, towards Atlanta.
Find out if it is really a safe place, if there is still hope for all of this.
Anxiety invades my mind again.
It's a long journey, I know...but it could be my only possibility.
It could be, in fact, the only way of salvation I have.
I studied some maps and the only thing I came up with was that it is about 620 miles and at most, that is, with the right amount of food, water and rest, I could travel 40 miles a day.
Which translated into hours would be around 10 hours.
This means that within 15 to 20 days I could arrive in Atlanta.
I laugh at myself, I'm really overestimating myself.
Because obviously there is the reality of the facts...I don't have enough supplies and enough strength to do this.
I only had run for, how long?
Five miles?
And I already feel like I'm dying.
For a moment, just for a moment, the thought of going back crosses my mind.
The thought of coming back to him...but it's only for a moment.
I shake my head trying to clear it of any negative thoughts.
I put my backpack back on my shoulder, fix my ponytail and take some big deep breaths.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
No, I can't go back and I don't want to.
There must be something else.
There must be something else for me out there.
Maybe one day I'll find someone, something.
Maybe I'll find some people I can call family.
Maybe I'll find a place to call home.
Or maybe I'll never make it to Atlanta.
Maybe I'll never know if there's anything good out there.
