Reflections - TWD

47. I hate it all.

Isabella was awoken in the middle of the night to something that sounded like crying outside. Maybe one of the adults got too drunk? No, no. This was the cry of a child.

Isabella rubbed her eyes and then looked out of the window. Freddie was sat on the side of the road, his head in his hands and his body was shaking as if he was upset. Isabella groaned, Freddie had annoyed her earlier, but she couldn't just leave him like that. Hell, she wouldn't leave anyone like that.

She slipped on her shoes, leaving the laces untied because she couldn't be bothered to do them. She slowly opened her bedroom door, all the lights were off in the house and by the looks of things, everyone was asleep. So, she tiptoed to the front door and opened it, once she was out, she sped up her pace.

"Freddie?" Isabella whispered, he was sniffling too much to hear her, though. "Freddie." She added more loudly.

When Freddie looked up, he had dry blood running from his nose and down to his chin, all down his neck. His nose was red and bruised, kind of like the way Sam's was.

"Isabella?" Freddie shot up and wrapped his arms around her. Isabella had only just met this guy and he was hugging her, she felt a bit awkward, but she gave him a quick hug back.

"What happened to your face?" Isabella asked. "Was it Sam?"

"No." Freddie shook his head and tried to wipe some of the blood away with his sweater sleeve.

"Who did that then?" Isabella asked more firmly, who the hell was going around punching kids? As far as she knew, her, Sam and Freddie were the only young kids in Alexandria.

"Our- our dad did it...it was an accident though. I swear, he wouldn't do it on purpose." Freddie rambled, it was like he was trying to convince himself of his words. Isabella knew that Pete was like John, she knew it from the moment in the infirmary.

Isabella knew what had happened, of course she did. All the memories came back. After John would attack, he'd apologise, tell her how she would always be his little girl. But, this wasn't about Isabella. Freddie needed help.

"Okay, okay." Isabella mumbled, she didn't want to freak Freddie out even more, he was already stressed enough. "Uh, you can come inside and clean up if you want. Maybe talk to one of the adults. Glenn's real nice."

Freddie nodded quickly, so Isabella took him inside and led him upstairs, she waited outside the bathroom door. She was trying so hard to focus on Freddie, to focus on what she could do to help him.

Although, alls she could think about was John and Daryl. Seeing it happen to someone else made her realise the fantasy she's living in. Daryl isn't her dad, he's never going to be her dad. John was her dad, John's dead. She doesn't have a dad.

Everything she'd been living by was fake. These people weren't her family.

Her heart was telling her one thing while her head was telling her another thing.

Daryl takes care of me, he's everything a dad should be.

No, he's just someone who takes care of you. That doesn't make him a dad.

Does Daryl even like it when I call him dad? He doesn't have any kids of his own, he never wanted them. He never wanted me.

No, he doesn't like it when you call him dad. Why would he? You're not his daughter, you're never going to be his daughter. Stop being so gullible, stop crying all the damn time, grow up.

I hate this place. I hate me. I hate my body, I hate my mind, I hate these people. Everything is fake. I hate it all.

"Hey, Belly, you there?" Freddie's face was clean, just leaving the bruise on his nose.