Beth Greene (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_littlefaith) wrote2016-06-21 08:15 pm
a_littlefaith) wrote2016-06-21 08:15 pm
Entry tags:
[june 21]
She's known since this morning.
When her alarm went off, she woke up and rolled over and looked at the time on her phone, then the empty spot beside her and the cold place in the middle of her chest had grown just a little bigger. It had been there since the day in the park, sometimes easier to ignore than others, but never entirely gone, and she had been using it to steel herself against the memories that had come flooding back. Maybe she had died, but she had that cold place to protect herself with. Maybe she had done something stupid, been at fault for her own death, but that cold place kept it far enough away. Maybe she would never see her sister again, but the cold place removed her from the pain of that.
Maybe Daryl was gone, but the cold place grew and engulfed that pain, too.
She hadn't said anything in the morning, not to Carl, and she'd gone to work like everything was normal. She had texted him, called him, waited for a response. Got none. She went to the garage, was told he hadn't shown up for work that morning. She waited. Called again. Heard nothing.
None of it surprised her. His place in the bed had been cold, colder than that part of her that she's taken to wearing as armor, and she had known even then. But now she has to go home, she has to tell Carl, and somehow that sits heavier on her than anything else. It's just the three of them now, her and Carl and Judith, and she isn't going to let them down. She isn't going to screw this up and risk having someone try to send them away, but she knows it'll be a little harder now, too. One income, three people, it's going to be hard, but she'll do it. She has to.
She gets home before Carl does and so she waits, stroking Anthony's head as the cat winds around her ankles and then jumps up on the couch beside her. A part of her thinks she should make dinner, but she's tired, she's just so tired, and she needs what little energy she has for the conversation ahead.
When her alarm went off, she woke up and rolled over and looked at the time on her phone, then the empty spot beside her and the cold place in the middle of her chest had grown just a little bigger. It had been there since the day in the park, sometimes easier to ignore than others, but never entirely gone, and she had been using it to steel herself against the memories that had come flooding back. Maybe she had died, but she had that cold place to protect herself with. Maybe she had done something stupid, been at fault for her own death, but that cold place kept it far enough away. Maybe she would never see her sister again, but the cold place removed her from the pain of that.
Maybe Daryl was gone, but the cold place grew and engulfed that pain, too.
She hadn't said anything in the morning, not to Carl, and she'd gone to work like everything was normal. She had texted him, called him, waited for a response. Got none. She went to the garage, was told he hadn't shown up for work that morning. She waited. Called again. Heard nothing.
None of it surprised her. His place in the bed had been cold, colder than that part of her that she's taken to wearing as armor, and she had known even then. But now she has to go home, she has to tell Carl, and somehow that sits heavier on her than anything else. It's just the three of them now, her and Carl and Judith, and she isn't going to let them down. She isn't going to screw this up and risk having someone try to send them away, but she knows it'll be a little harder now, too. One income, three people, it's going to be hard, but she'll do it. She has to.
She gets home before Carl does and so she waits, stroking Anthony's head as the cat winds around her ankles and then jumps up on the couch beside her. A part of her thinks she should make dinner, but she's tired, she's just so tired, and she needs what little energy she has for the conversation ahead.