Starting Over

Those moments where you wake up after a long night of work and can barely feel anything on your body was a complete understatement compared to what you were currently feeling.

It feels as though gravity took a turn for the worst and started crushing your form to the bed. Everything was so hazy that your brain barely registers the fact that you are no longer surrounded by trees but walls.

As your consciousness begins to slowly recover, a low groan escapes your throat, and you start to truly comprehend the pain erupting from your leg.

In a single moment everything rushes back. The run, the girl, the cabin, and finally that horrible human being that attacked you without another thought.

It was as if the flood gates burst open as you lay there in complete agony wondering where it all went wrong.

In no way had you expected everything to take a turn for the worst in the way that it did. It was a simple run that morphed into a trip to hell.

How people change in such a way was beyond you. How they could just snap and turn into murderous monsters, something worse than the undead.

You try to blame everything on just how the world works, but deep down you hate that man for what he was.

Sustaining a moral outlook on everything was hard these days, but you managed. That's all it ever was anymore.

Managing.

Suddenly, you start hearing voices close by.
You quickly blink away the tear that threatened to fall and breath in deeply.

The recognizable sound of Hershel's crutch echos through the tomb-like halls. It was welcoming to hear his voice bouncing from wall to wall. It didn't take you long to realize he was talking to Rick.

"I'm not so sure anymore Rick. It's been three days. Even if the infection is healing without the medication, it could come back even worse or she could have some kind of trauma. Listen Rick, there's no tellin' what she'll do when she wakes up. If she'll be the same when she does. Whatever you do, do not tell her."

Remembering the source of the pulsing pain, you look down to see your leg propped up on a pillow and bandages wrapped around your calf with blood scattered over the exposed skin and bed sheets.
You wryly thought for a second that you better not be on your own bed. It took you a solid month to find the perfect blankets for yourself.

"Y/N" Rick breaths out in surprise as he stands at the threshold looking at you bewildered.

"Hey Rick. Three days, huh? I thought I could beat my record. Guess not."

Rick chuckles then calls for Hershel to come back. When he walks in and sits in the chair beside you, the exhaustion on his face is more evident.

"Is there somethin' wrong, Rick?"

He seems to alternate between emotions as his face quickly morphs from hesitant to something more along the lines of faux optimism.

"No, no. Nothin's wrong. We got someone to get you some medicine. Got some more supplies the other day. Everythang's good."

Somehow it was really hard for you to believe that everything was just fine. Rick's tone and body language gives you a terribly unnerving feeling.

"So who went to get the meds? I'd love a painkiller right about now."

You try to nonchalantly joke with Rick in order to get answers, but before he can either answer or dodge the question Hershel hobbles into the cell with the usual medical supplies.

He seems to narrow his eyes at Rick in a warning. The exchange makes you all the more curious and confused.

Instead of playing it all off like you usually do, you decide to push Rick a bit further.

"Hey Hershel, Rick here was just about to tell me who went on the run while I was out. Weren't you Rick?"

Rick's eyes dart from you to the older man as if to ask for confirmation. Hershel merely shakes his head as his mouth sets in a hard line.

You just observe from the bed as the two men continue their argument in silence. If it wasn't for your apparent frustration and all around tired of bullshit attitude you would have laughed at the odd faces they were giving each other.

It all eventually ended with Rick leaving without saying another word leaving Hershel to check your blood pressure and other basic medical stats.

This was the most quiet he's ever been around you. He always seems to have something witty to say to you, especially when it was concerning your health.

"Hershel."

He continues to check everything as if you hadn't just said his name for attention. You can't help but notice that he refuses any eye contact with you either.

"Hershel. What the hell is going on? Am I going to die or something?"

The sigh that escapes his lips is his surrender as his eyes droop down before he takes in the sight of your confused face.

"No. You'll live. You're goin' to need to rest that leg for a while though, so you better stay put. No crutch this time."

You are relieved to hear the news that you get to live a little longer, but nevertheless you still can't shake that ominous impression that Rick and Hershel were giving you.

"Sure. I can do that. Do you think I could get some books then? Or anything to do so that I don't go insane."

Hershel takes your usual joking demeanor as a chance to escape rather than your well-known 'do-anything-to-get-an-answer' temperament.

"I'll see what I can do."

You simply nod a thank you and lay your head back onto the pillow a little more comfortably. You can't stop yourself from overthinking everything that had happened in the short time that you were awake.

Why was Rick acting as though something went wrong? Did the Governor attack while you were unconscious?

"No, he'd definitely tell me if it were that." You quietly tell yourself for reassurance.

Hershel was acting just as weird too. He almost never lets the chance pass by to get a good joke in on you when he finds you injured somehow.

If you didn't know any better you'd think that they were obviously hiding something from you. You can't just get up and go ask someone about their behavior though because you are bedridden for whoever knows how long.

"Hey, Rick thought you should eat something."

It's as though your problem is instantly solved as Carol walks in holding a bowl full of what looks like Ramen. She's all smile like always which puts you more at ease.

"Just the person I wanted to see. Carol, come sit down." You successfully maneuver your body in a sitting position while your leg is still annoyingly propped up on a pillow.

Carol looks a bit hesitant at first, but she fortunately takes the seat in the middle of the small cell. You graciously take the bowl from her and smell what you remember as Chicken flavored Ramen.

"What did you want to talk about?" Carol asks apprehensively as she glances between you and various items in the room.

"Well Carol, I thought that maybe you could explain to me what's going on with Rick and Hershel, but I can tell by how you're acting that they've sworn you to secrecy."

Her eyes widen from your choice of words before darting to the floor. "I'm sorry. You're right." She was quick to add that it wasn't anything you needed to worry about though.

It's pretty hard to look convinced as she exits the cell. Despite all of the very curious behaviors from the people you've seen so far, you decide to drop it completely and trust in your leader's judgement of not telling you.

Sure, you were confused and really freaking curious as to what they're hiding, but you think that you can hold off on the berating questions for now.

Well, at least until someone manages to spill the beans. Then you're going to give them hell.