Beth Greene (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_littlefaith) wrote2018-06-11 02:57 pm
a_littlefaith) wrote2018-06-11 02:57 pm
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Beth has no idea how it happens.
It's been a good day so far. She'd worked an early shift at On the Downbeat and after going to buy herself an iced coffee, she'd headed for the park with her notebook to sit down and write. The weather is beautiful and she finds herself a picnic table in a little bit of shade, then spreads out her book and her bag and settles in. She's not needed at home until later in the evening and she texts Jason a little while into her afternoon, asking if he wants to come meet her a little later. They can get dinner or just hang out, she doesn't have anything in particular planned, and she sets her phone aside again to wait for his response as she continues to work.
The words are coming easily today. They're not all perfect, there are plenty of half-finished songs she scraps entirely or reworks on the next page, but it's going well and she finds herself wishing she'd thought to bring her guitar. She writes down the music she thinks is going to go well with the words she's gotten down today, makes herself a promise to work on them later, then flips back to read through some of the others she's written recently.
For awhile, a lot of her songs were about Curtis. They still are sometimes, but they're different than they used to be. A little less sad, but still not quite capturing the closure she wishes she'd been able to have. It's always been like that for her, with everyone except her father. She's never been able to say goodbye and the only thing that keeps her from feeling the same way about Hershel is that little smile he had given her before he died.
She wishes she'd had that with others. She's written a few songs about it, hoping it will give her that same sense of closure with Curtis, but it's never quite come.
Still, for all she misses him, she's happy. Her life in Darrow is the only one she has and it's a good one and she's finishing up the last touches on a song about that when she looks up and sees a familiar figure not all that far away. Her heart lurches, her chest locks up, and for a moment it's a struggle to breathe. She puts down her pen, tries to convince herself it could be almost anyone, because she knows it's possible for there to be multiple people who look alike in Darrow.
But she can't make it happen, she can't really believe it. She knows him too well for that. In a second, just looking at him, she knows it's Curtis walking toward her. Only he's not really walking. There's something wrong in the way he's moving and it takes her a second to realize he's not wearing his prosthetic either.
She's frozen. He gets closer and closer and as soon as he moves from the shade of the trees across the park and into the sunlight, she knows what's wrong with him.
"No," she breathes, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "No, please."
This isn't the goodbye she wanted. Not with him. She had wished for something quiet and loving, like they had been, something no one else needed to see or experience, something that would be meaningful for just the two of them. Not this. Not him.
She had seen her mother and her brother like this. Her father's head. She's had nightmares of the people she loves coming back to her with dead, grey eyes and slack jaws and empty expressions, but never Curtis. He's apart from all of the awful things she left behind, he was something new, a part of a new life, and now he's shuffling toward her and his moan carries on the wind and all Beth can do is sit at her table and weep.
It's been a good day so far. She'd worked an early shift at On the Downbeat and after going to buy herself an iced coffee, she'd headed for the park with her notebook to sit down and write. The weather is beautiful and she finds herself a picnic table in a little bit of shade, then spreads out her book and her bag and settles in. She's not needed at home until later in the evening and she texts Jason a little while into her afternoon, asking if he wants to come meet her a little later. They can get dinner or just hang out, she doesn't have anything in particular planned, and she sets her phone aside again to wait for his response as she continues to work.
The words are coming easily today. They're not all perfect, there are plenty of half-finished songs she scraps entirely or reworks on the next page, but it's going well and she finds herself wishing she'd thought to bring her guitar. She writes down the music she thinks is going to go well with the words she's gotten down today, makes herself a promise to work on them later, then flips back to read through some of the others she's written recently.
For awhile, a lot of her songs were about Curtis. They still are sometimes, but they're different than they used to be. A little less sad, but still not quite capturing the closure she wishes she'd been able to have. It's always been like that for her, with everyone except her father. She's never been able to say goodbye and the only thing that keeps her from feeling the same way about Hershel is that little smile he had given her before he died.
She wishes she'd had that with others. She's written a few songs about it, hoping it will give her that same sense of closure with Curtis, but it's never quite come.
Still, for all she misses him, she's happy. Her life in Darrow is the only one she has and it's a good one and she's finishing up the last touches on a song about that when she looks up and sees a familiar figure not all that far away. Her heart lurches, her chest locks up, and for a moment it's a struggle to breathe. She puts down her pen, tries to convince herself it could be almost anyone, because she knows it's possible for there to be multiple people who look alike in Darrow.
But she can't make it happen, she can't really believe it. She knows him too well for that. In a second, just looking at him, she knows it's Curtis walking toward her. Only he's not really walking. There's something wrong in the way he's moving and it takes her a second to realize he's not wearing his prosthetic either.
She's frozen. He gets closer and closer and as soon as he moves from the shade of the trees across the park and into the sunlight, she knows what's wrong with him.
"No," she breathes, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "No, please."
This isn't the goodbye she wanted. Not with him. She had wished for something quiet and loving, like they had been, something no one else needed to see or experience, something that would be meaningful for just the two of them. Not this. Not him.
She had seen her mother and her brother like this. Her father's head. She's had nightmares of the people she loves coming back to her with dead, grey eyes and slack jaws and empty expressions, but never Curtis. He's apart from all of the awful things she left behind, he was something new, a part of a new life, and now he's shuffling toward her and his moan carries on the wind and all Beth can do is sit at her table and weep.