All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 18

The next morning I sit at the table eating breakfast with Becca. She sits next to me, chewing loudly as she spoons canned vegetables in her mouth. After thirty seconds, her chewing starts irritating me. When she gets up from her seat to lean across the table, grabbing a napkin for her face, I see a purple mark on her lower back.

“Becca, did you run into something again?” I ask.

She follows my gaze to her back. “Yeah, I was playing outside and fell.”

“You need to be more careful,” I warn.

She nods her head and we eat the rest of breakfast in silence. I get up from the table to throw my can in the trash, finding Eli in the kitchen.

“I need your help today,” he says.

“With what?”

“We need to get firewood.”

“Why can’t Daryl or Jonah help you with that?” I ask.

His eyes lock onto mine. “I don’t want their help. I want you to help me.”

The way he looks at me makes me uncomfortable and all I can think about is him shoving me off the counter, forcing me to fall into broken glass. The cuts on my hands start stinging.

“Come on,” he smiles. “It’ll take less than an hour.”

“Okay,” I agree. “I’ll go with you.”

Before we leave the house, he hands me a backpack and two knives that I saw him sharpening the other day. I watch him as he places his gun on his waistband. Following him out the door, we begin making our way into the woods just behind the house. I stay close behind him, knowing it’s safer that way.

“Are your hands feeling better?” he questions, turning around to look at me.

“Uhm yeah, a little,” I answer.

We stop at a small tree and Eli pulls an axe from his backpack. “Just watch my back while I cut this okay?”

“Sure.”

He begins hacking away, and every time the blade strikes the truck I flinch. I really don’t understand why I keep putting myself in situations like these with him. Despite the sick feeling in my stomach, I make sure to keep a look out.

The woods look completely clear – which surprises me. When what feels like five minutes pass, I expect to see a walker. I don’t understand how the sound of Eli cutting the tree isn’t drawing them to us. I realize that I’m actually hoping to see one so I can kill it. Killing them makes me feel like I’m doing something positive for the world because at least I’m preventing them from eating someone else.

“Do you know how Becca ends up hurting herself all time?” I take a few steps away from the tree in case it decides to fall.

He freezes. “Yeah, she’s always been clumsy.”

Just as I’m about to say something the trees falls. Eli quickly splits the trunk into smaller manageable pieces, the cuffs of his t-shirt tightening about his biceps. I hand him my backpack so he can fill it with the pieces he’s just cut.

“You can put more pieces of wood in there.” He can’t think I’m that weak.

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I don’t mind carrying more.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

We start walking back towards the house and after we make it a few yards, Eli stops.

“I think I left one of my knives back there.” He turns around, making his way to the tree he just cut down.

While I wait for him, I fidget with the knife in my hands, looking at the sharpness of the blade. The backpack starts to feel heavy on my shoulders – Eli was right. Before I take it off my back, I hear him scream.

I take off running.

My heart rate pounds in my ears and my legs start to give out from under me and my lungs feel like they’re going to collapse. A million images run through my mind – I’m going to find him dead; lying on the ground with blood pouring from his neck, a walker chewing on his flesh.

I find him standing on his feet – alive. A walker lays at his feet with a knife in its head.

“Eli, are you – “

“Macy, what the hell? I told you to keep a fucking eye out for me!”

It all happens so fast – one moment I’m standing in front of him and then the next his hand is cutting through the air, hitting my cheek so hard I almost fall over. My knife falls from my hands. He lunges at me and I feel his fist pound into my lower back.

“Eli stop! Please stop!” I hear my voice screaming at him, but I hardly recognize the sound. Trying to fight him off, I shove my wounded hands against his shoulders, sending pain up and down my body.

Just as quickly as it started, it ends. He gets off me and looks at me with soft, pleading eyes. “Macy, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened – I mean I’m all shook up from that biter almost getting me. I’m so sorry. Let me help you up.”

Without thinking, I take his hand and he brings me to my feet. “I’m so sorry,” he says again.

My body is shaking. My hands sting. My back is screaming.

“Just don’t tell Jonah,” he begs. He has the knife he went back for in his hands.

“I won’t tell Jonah,” I promise.

He puts his hands on my back, guiding me forward.

“Don’t touch me.” I shake him off.

“Okay, okay,” he agrees.

My knees tremble as I walk and my thoughts are cloudy – I don’t think I feel anything. I hear branches snap underneath my feet so I know I must be moving. I hear Eli beside me but I don’t see him because my vision becomes blurry.

The only thought that is clear in my mind is how I deserved it. He should have hit me harder. I deserve to experience so much more pain. When I catch a glimpse of the cuts on my wrist, I realize how low I’ve sunk – how much hate I have for more myself; it makes me sick to my stomach.

I need to stop this. I need to stop everything, but I’m too weak. Right now I’m so tired. My eyes feel so heavy. All I want to do is sleep. I need –

A shock of pain encases my foot. I start screaming. Tears run down my cheeks.

“Macy, just breathe.” Eli’s voice comes from behind me and then he’s in front of me, crouching down so he’s level with my foot. “You stepped on a trap. You’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna get it off you.”

Seconds pass, feeling like hours, and he has the trap off my foot. But I still feel the pain everywhere. I try to walk on it and I end up biting my lip so hard I draw blood.

“Here,” Eli offers. “I’ll carry you back.”

I shake my head. That’s the last thing I want right now. I take another step, pain shooting up my leg, and realize I don’t have another option.

“Okay,” I say.