"I may have saved her from the monsters that crawl through the dark, but she saved me from the worst monster of all. She rescued me from who I would have become without her, the monster that would have easily conquered my body."
* * *
Reese Chambler...
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I STILL FEEL out of place around Mr. Grimes and his group, even though they have given me no reason not to trust them. They have, in fact, been very welcoming and kind, but that scares me more than if they had been cruel. I do not know how to deal with the warmth. After months of having no one to interact with besides my unspeaking baby, I have almost forgotten how to be around other humans.
Carl seems to be growing more comfortable around me, but comfortable doesn't really seem like the right word. He at least doesn't rest his hand on the hilt of his knife every time he looks at me anymore.
Though I know I shouldn't, I still feel like an outsider, an enemy. Aunt Tara has told me many times that I am just being unnecessarily nervous, but when I look at the people in charge of this place, all I can think about is the fact that I stood on the other side of the fence. I stood with that evil man and we destroyed their lives. It's my fault Mr. Grimes lost his daughter in the first place.
My knuckles start to ache as I squeeze my folded hands tighter. I bite my thumb, willing myself to not let the tears fall. From my place on the floor, I gaze up at the crucifix hanging on the other side of the room. My eyes narrow with disdain. I have a god, but He is not it.
The door to the small chapel swings open with a bang, cutting through the unnerving silence.
"I thought you'd be at the infirmary, but Denise said you came here," A voice says.
Carl watches me closely as I carefully run my hand over the top of his sister's head. I stare back at him for a tense moment, unmoving. He ignores my irrational discomfort and beckons me out of the door.
"It's time for her nap."
"I'll come with you," I say as I quickly jump up from my knees.
We both hold onto Meghan's little hands as she skips between us, and together we walk to his house. Carl and I stand at a distance, and any onlookers would think we were trying to pull the child one way or the other. It looks like we are fighting over her.
"So, you believe in a god?" He asks me. My eyes stay planted on the ground in front of me as we continue to move up the street.
"I believe in something, don't you?"
He shrugs.
"I used to. I mean, I was raised to believe in god. My mom would make me recite meaningless prayers, even after we fell face first into this shit hole of a life."
Carl suddenly and unexpectedly laughs. It's not a real laugh, of course, and the message is heard loud and clear, "Look around, Reese. How could you think God is real?"
His hand gestures all around us, but his gaze stays locked forward. I struggle to formulate a coherent sentence as my mind starts to wander back to the woods, back to the time when it was just me and my baby against the world.
