Uncomfortable Home

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For anyone who doesn't know why Ami really wants a baby, it's because she feels like she was not raised good enough or was not loved enough. Ami really just wants to show her child the love that she never got. Also, if you have not seen the new Walking Dead episode, there are spoilers in here. Read at your own risk. --Love, Brooke.!

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The boredom overwhelmed me. Rick had a brilliant plan that every had to have at least one therapy session--from me--and if they liked it, they could sign up to have one once a week. My fellow council members: Hershel, Glenn, Carol, Daryl, and Sasha, thought it be a good idea, too. I only went to school for two years for Psychology. Besides, I didn't want to be a therapist. I used to want to be part of a Behavioral Analysis Unit, where you study criminals.

"This is ridiculous." Rachel rubbed her forhead, just sitting down.

"Yeah, tell me about it." I took a sip from my half-drank water bottle.

"So, let's just say that I had a revalation, and I'm all better." Rachel started to get up.

"No," I stopped her weakly. She sat back down and sighed. "What's your story?... By the way, whatever you say stays between us, if that makes you feel any better."

"I don't have a story..."

"Everyone has a story."

"Not me."

I studied her, seeing if I could find anything to poke at. "You've got pretty, blue eyes... Did you get that from your mom or your dad?"

She avoided eye contact. "Don't know."

"Were you adopted?"

"Oh, cut the shit, Ami! Stop chewing on a bone that you're not going to get any flavor out of."

"It's a simple question: yes or no?"

She was quiet for a second, playing with her sword. "No, I was not."

"Then, how do you not know who gave you the blue eyes?"

"I don't know who my dad is. My mother was a whore," she mumbled, "fucked everything with a heartbeat. Went through more step-dads than I can count." She paused, now cleaning her finger nails with her sword. "The funny thing, though, is that she swore she knew who he was. Her description, though... that was the best thing." She looked up at me with pain and fake enthusiasm. "She was so high off of crack, she said that my father's face looked like a cat with a storm in his eyes. I mean... she's just a fucking pysho path."

"Yeah...." I chewed off part of my nail, then spit it out of my mouth. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. The words went in one ear and out the other. "So, what'd you do before the apocalypse?"

"Nothing... I was homeless, unemployed."

"Could you not get a job, or did you choose not to be employed?"

"For three years, I was in the army. I got shot in the hip, so I got releaved of duty." Rachel acted like that sentence was annoying to her.

"How old are you, then?"

"About twenty-five...So, am I crazy?"

I cocked my head, pretending like it was on the border of crazy and sane. "I guess you'll have to find out the next session." I started standing, wanting to catch breakfast.

"Don't think so..." Rachel put her sword back on her back and walked out, me following behind her.

We walked in silence all the way outside. The bright sun hit my face, yet the cool air made it feel good. Daryl was getting breakfast from Carol, while they talked.

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