Surviving The New World (Book Six in the Surviving The Walking Dead Series)

Cracked

Darkness. Everything was so still. Quiet hammering echoed from the distance, quiet footsteps muffled as they passed, but inside, nothing stirred, just the sound of my breathing. I did the right thing, I know I did. Patrick had to go, Harlow had to go; I did everything I was asked, I did what I was born to do, what others lacked the nerve to do...and yet, they look at me as if I'm the monster.

The door slowly opened, the wood creaked under their weight, the footsteps stopped. They were right in front of me, but I dare not look up. I refused to look at them, refused to meet their contemptuous stare. "Michaela?" It was Rick; his voice was soft, full of sorrow. I remained silent. "Michaela, please talk to me, talk to someone; ya haven't talked to anyone in days, not even Siddiq." Rick was only met by silence. "We're worried about ya." I heard the sound of a food tray being set on the ground. "I brought you lunch...ya need to eat." I glanced up at the tray and sighed. It was a bowl of homemade sticky noodles, my favorite.

"Afraid to give me a knife now?" I grumbled.

"Michaela—"

"I did what needed to be fuckin' done, I did my fuckin' job, and y'all chastised me for it! I did what I had to do to keep our people fuckin' safe, and ya locked me up for it!" I grabbed the empty bed pan from beside me and threw it at the iron bars, causing Rick to step back. "I did everythin' for ya, Rick. I got my hands dirty so ya wouldn't have to worry about it, I did the dirty work, AND FOR WHAT? For y'all to turn around and treat me as if I'm the bad guy? Like ya did Merle?"

"This is different, Michaela. Ya turned Patrick into a chandelier."

"A chandelier?" I slowly rose to my feet and walked over to the bars. "Ya honestly think he was worth that much? No, I turned 'em into party streamers because his death was worth celebratin'."

"Ya took it too far! Kill 'em and be done with it; ya didn't have to torture 'em." I didn't respond. Rick slid me the food tray under the bars and let out a sigh. "We're gonna move ya to Alexandria soon and begin a trial."

"Oh, a trial?" I chuckled. "My, I didn't realize that I was gonna be treated fairly."

"It's because we are tryin' to set a better example for the future that we're even allowin' a trial; if the others had their way, you'd be locked up for the rest of your life for what ya did, possibly even exiled, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Well, a round of applause for Sheriff Dumbass." I sarcastically clapped my hands; Rick furrowed his eyebrows with frustration.

"We're gonna hear your side of the story and anyone else's if they've got anythin' to say pertainin' to the matter, and we'll discuss the information and make a decision. If I were you, I'd think long and hard about what happened and what ya gotta say." Rick began to storm off towards the stairs.

"Hey, Rick." Rick stopped and looked back at me. "I didn't hear ya complainin' when I tortured Randall." Rick didn't respond and exited the cellar, shutting the door behind him. My stomach growled with hunger, so I ate the noodles in silence. A few minutes later, Siddiq entered the cellar.

"Hello, Michaela." Siddiq nervously smiled.

"Sup, doc?"

"Rick told me to check on you and the babies, so I have to have to enter your cell, is that okay?"

"Ya gotta ask?"

"I just don't know your mental state."

"Read my records, Siddiq, I'm a fuckin' nutjob. But, as of right now, I'm okay."

"You sure?" I gently nodded and sipped on my lemonade. Siddiq slowly entered the cell and motioned for me to sit. Once sitting, he placed a fetal doppler to my stomach and listened to the babies. "They sound good, as far as I'm concerned. Now, what about you?"