Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Did you ever get so ill that you couldn’t remember where you were anymore? When you spent half of the time unaware if you were truly awake, when every time you close your eyes again hours passed too quickly. Delirious.

I was delirious.

I had collapsed, staring at him still asleep, still willing myself to do it. Do it and I may save my friends? But then, was one man making the difference, did one man matter so much in this world.
It always had throughout history, certain men had moulded the world, destroyed it.
Would he have been one of them before, was he a good man before this, a family man, or had he always been a monster?

I woke suddenly, taking a breath like I was drowning and flinging my body upwards, my chest and stomach heaving and clenching as a bowl was placed in front of me, barely a dribble of saliva leaving my dry mouth. My stomach hurt as it continued to spin, empty, the acid swirling into a hurricane. My breathing was no better, rapid, catching me in my throat.
I was choking.

“Relax,” a voice said firmly, it was comforting old. I forced my breathing to slow, focusing on the numbers and instruction they gave until eventually my breathing was even. I forced my eyes open, blinking multiple times until my lap came into focus, a large shirt covering me.
I felt another round of nausea when I realised it much be his.

“Hey, okay, calm down. You’re dehydrated and you need to eat...and you ent’ doing me no favours exaggerating,” I felt the urge to swear at the woman, to scream and shout.

You don’t know what he’s done to me.

And yet, compared to what he could of done he had done nothing. He had ended up being nice to me after a while.

My head was a mess, and my body was no better, each breath seemed to rattle, every inhale sent a sharp pain down my right side.

“I think my ribs broken,” I croaked, accepting the glass of water as she returned from the other side of the small room, pressing some form of painkiller into my shaking hand. She made a noise of agreement, feeling around my sides and glaring each time I winced.

“Stay still,” she demanded, now fussing around my face where I’m sure multiple bruises resided. She began to mumble to herself, my head was still spinning, my ears ringing and I couldn’t catch most of the words.

It was clear however that she really did not want to be looking after me. But then, if she believed him, the Governor...who knew what she believed I had done. My stomach growled loudly, the nausea fading to just reveal hunger.
Fuck was I hungry.

She let out almost a growl, moving to the door and shouting out to a girl, Amy or something. I took a chance to look around the room, it was small, must have been someone’s house. The walls were still aligned with ornaments and pictures of a family on holiday.

It definitely wasn’t the human bumbling arounds' family.
I felt that familiar stab of pain as I looked at their faces.

“Here,” another voice rang out, higher this time, but still sharp, still cold. I turned back, my eyes widening as I took in her appearance. She didn’t notice, shoving the bowl on my bare legs and turning quickly before even looking at me.

It was her, her face was clean, bruises faded into green. I didn’t look her into eyes. I didn’t want too. I had that once, right after the bullet had been fired.

Right after the bullet had sunk Into Lori’s flesh, she had run, eyes wide as I had pressed my hand against the pumping fountain of blood, against the liquid that was her life, that ebbed away and left her, pale.

I didn’t touch the bowl. I couldn’t.
I was reliving it, my hands felt wet, like the blood was still soaked into them, it was acid, burning.
They would never be clean.

She walked across the room, muttering to the older woman who shot me another look, turning and fiddling with a first aid back, I zoned out again, my stomach cramping, fire flickering down my throat, my free hand was clenched.
She was the reason Lori had died, why her baby had never had the chance to live.

I blinked and the older woman was back, “Stop tensing ya arm,” she scolded, slapping against the inner of my elbow until my veins stood out,
“What is that?” I asked, ignoring the slight scratch of the needle as it pierced my skin.

“Something you damn well don’t deserve, why he wants ya alive I don’t know.” I blanked her, taking another sip of the cold water, soothing my throat but not the burning. She turned back to Lori’s killer.

“You watch her, make sure she eats or he won’t be happy. I gotta check on my boy,” she turned to me, “Since one of you scum shot him.” Her face was close to mine, her breath slightly sour, spittle spraying my jaw as she exaggerated her words.

I bit the inside of my cheek, I had wanted to pity them, the people. They were supposed to be fearful of him, scared to disobey.

In many that obviously wasn’t the case. “I’m sorry your son got hurt,” I said quietly as she reached the door, she stiffened but kept moving, slamming the door behind her. The girl moved, shooting me a glare, did she not recognise me?

She knew I was from the group, she knew...

“Ya’ll better eat that,” she said, sitting on an old armchair in one corner, “And once that shit kicks in,” she gestured to the needle left on the small table close to me, “I’ll take you back to him.”

Him.
Whatever happened I couldn’t go back to him.
He was in my head...I didn’t like how I felt around him.

“I’m not hungry,” I said bitterly, ignoring the cold bowl on my leg, full of something that looked like vegetable soup.

“I said eat, so you eat.”

“Why? Because he wants to fuck with me more?” She stood, irritated.

“Because he wants you alive so you can watch as we slaughter each one of your evil friends.” My stomach stopped turning instantly, that was his plan?

Simply to break me, make me watch.
That’s why he hadn’t touched me how he had Michonne, he knew, he knew she would never break, the worse he could do to her was kill her.

But he must have seen how weak I was, how he could crush my spirit, and then force me to watch those I loved killed.

“He’s sick.” She stepped closer, her jaw tensed, her short hair in a similar style to Maggie's. I stared her down, let her attack me.
All I felt now was anger. “Shut your mouth,” she spat, I turned, letting the bowl spill to the floor and smash.

“At the prison you killed my friend,” I said softly, pulling my head up so I was facing her, just a metre from me, her eyes widened slightly, “Remember? She was five months pregnant...and you slaughtered her, killed her and her baby.” She looked flustered, it was obviously a step too far even for her own madness.

“I do what I have to.” I shook my head, “Everyone here is a lunatic,” my voice was tight, my throat clogged, I could feel the tears threatening behind my eye lashes, She leant forward, slapping me hard across the face.

She was standing between me and the door, I needed to get out. I needed to find the others.

I went deeper, taunting further, until she had enough, grabbing my hair and pulling up both onto the floor. I struggled, her other hand was hitting everywhere she could, hitting against my already painful ribs. I manged to gain enough room to, kick my feet as hard as I could against her legs, my shortness giving me an advantage and allowing me to knee her stomach as we rolled over, both wrestling against each-other as limbs flailed, one of my hands grasping itself tightly in her hair and pulling with all my might, satisfied as the feeling of hair coming loose.

We were both grunting as we pulled and pushed, as fists hit each-other, it was more of a scuffle than a fight, rolling around on the floor, both of us of equal strength, much more due to my anger than my muscle.

Eventually she shoved me hard and I lost my grip, moaning as she landed a punch across my face, I scrambled back on my knee’s putting some distance towards us and ending up back by the bed I had been on.

My whole body ached, my breathing was heavy and I could feel blood smeared across my face from when her nails had scratched my cheek. I had a few seconds before she came at me again to observe her, happy at the amount of red on her face and arms, one of her hands bleeding quite heavily from where sunk my teeth into it to stop her hands from wrapping around my neck.

She came at me again and I felt my hand land on something sharp as I went to stand, a shard of the bowl.
She came at me and I just held it up, wincing as I felt it break through the skin of her stomach, feeling it slide through the muscle until my hand was met with warm liquid and her skin. I gasped, dropping it, and collapsing back against the bed as she realised what I had done. The blood was dark, it had gone too deep.

I felt an overwhelming sense to apologise, my chest was tight, she staggered slightly, her eyes wide, her skin growing pale before my eyes as the blood soaked into her thin jumper, as it began to spill and pour over the floor.

I stood, I had no idea what to do, I had done this, but she... deserved it? She stumbled and I moved to catch her, dragging her so she was lying half on the bed, her hand was clasped around the bottom of my arm, turning the off-white cuff of the shirt red. She was mouthing something but there was no sound, and I was suddenly aware of the tears spilling down my face.

This was different to any other killing; it was so personal, so slow. No guns.
I stayed until the bed cover was a deep red, until her hand grew loose.
I watched her die.

And I felt guilty.

_______________________

I didn’t move until a few minutes later, the clock on the wall telling me it was mid afternoon.
My head hurt.
I still didn’t know how I felt, about her, about everything.

“It’s done now,” I whispered to myself, “It’s done.”
I need to get out of here.

I stood, the blood had pooled, reaching the bottom of the shirt which was dyed an ombre red, sticking to my thighs. I ignored it, searching through the cupboards, there had to be something, a gun, a weapon.

I found it eventually, the metal cool, hidden in a draw, and thankfully loaded. I forced myself to take a deep breath and exhale, my head felt fuzzy, through what from I didn’t know.

The lack of sleep, food? Grief, perhaps it was just whatever pain killer she had injected in to me.

I swallowed deeply, freezing as I heard a loud creek and the door opened. My heart stopped as he stepped in, looking rather relaxed, his expression turning blank as he looked around the room, saw the girl on the bed, saw me, covered in blood.

Saw a gun pointed at him.

He lifted his hands almost mockingly, placing one down to rest it on the girls neck and shaking his head slightly when he found no pulse.

“Now, what made you do that?”

“Stay back,” I warned, “Or I will shoot you.” He grinned, letting out a breathy chuckle as he continued to step closer, my hands sweaty around the handle of the gun, my body shaking.

“You’ve had multiple opportunities to kill me if you wanted and you haven’t.” He took another step, now just a few metres from me, hands still in front of his chest, “And you know why?”

“I’ll do it!” I urged, though I stepped back so I was against the counter, close to the first aid bag.

“No.No you won’t. You’re broken,” he laughed properly this time, “So broken, already when you got here, I just warped it further.”

“I’m telling you.”

“Do it then, I’ve been in this room for close to a minute,” he smirked, stopping just inches from the gun, lifting it so it was pressing into his temple, “If you can do it, do it. Prove me right. You already killed Amy, you went there. You snapped, you’re broken.”

I went to speak, my mouth opening and closing mutely until he gently pulled the gun from my grip and placed it in his belt, stepping closer so my face was almost pressing into his chest.

“See, it’s easy. And you were so easy. It’s better this way.” His hands rested on my shoulders, one moving quickly to drag my chin up so I faced him, moving up to brush some hair from my face, the end knotted with blood, “I knew it wouldn’t take long, already so fucked up."

“Is that what you enjoy?” I whimpered, one hand behind me on the counter, “Breaking people?” he nodded, grinning.

“I help people, make them nothing and then rebuild them...and you’re perfect. Your friend, Michonne, was too much, she just wasn’t right. But you’re damaged, you can tell. It just makes it more...” he stopped suddenly, his hands had moved back down my sides, resting lowly on my hips.

But my free hand, on the counter behind had scrambled, feeling around until it had clasped something, he had been distracted, bragging too joyous in his own madness to notice.

And then I had jammed the needle into his eye. He roared and I shoved him, slipping past him and straight out of the room.

The light outside was bright, blinding me quickly but I didn’t stop, my feet meeting the damaged tarmac, stinging as they caught on small stones. I tried to remember the layout, to remember the way through the main roads, the little allies carved between when I heard shouts behind me.

I forgot my plan, I just ran, the houses blending as I ran past them. It was never big Woodbury, barely a village surrounded by a wall, but at that time it had never seemed busy. I veered down one of the alleyways, my breathing heavy, the mass of men gathering, their voices echoing over the area.

Oh fuck.

I gasped, my hands on my knees as the tears began to fight again. I had to run, to work out where I was compared to the others, to rescue them. I left the alley on the opposite side, running close to the back doors of houses, always open when suddenly arms encircled me and I was dragged inwards by someone I didn’t recognise.

“Keep quiet,” the woman, young, mid twenties at the latest warned, shoving a pistol into my hands,.

“The others are attacking in a minute, distracting and then we’ll go for those being held.” I frowned, my head was still spinning, my vision growing blurry and fuzzing the longer I stood.

“The others?! Who are you?” She grinned slightly,

“And Glenn said you was smart.”