dromomania- an irrational impulse to wander or travel without purpose.
"You're not gonna shoot me."
"How do you figure?"
"You would have done it already."
[the walking dead]
[carl grimes x fem!oc]
[started dec. 14, 22]
[slow updates sry]
[ongoing]
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DEATH CALLS
The cell I call my home is dark and musty and I can't sleep. I spend all hours awake, worried that Emma will come in here and finish the job she started.
I look half dead like Elowen did on her last days. Sainte and Rowan visit every day, I've been here for three days now, and Michonne is the only adult I've seen so far. I haven't slept since the day I was dragged out of bed for a crime I didn't even commit.
Night fell again, again Michonne came in to check on me and bring me some food.
"You look really bad," She tells me passing me the bag of food. It's not much but it's food, although those sandwiches that Sainte has been making are much better.
"I can't sleep, I'm afraid she's gonna try something while I'm locked in here."
Michonne frowns but nods, "I can't stay here long enough for you to get some good sleep but if you want I can make sure I lock the doors securely."
I shrug, that may or may not help me. I don't know how good Emma is at sneaking around. If it were me who was the assassin she'd be fucked, absolutely gone. I wouldn't even play this stupid jail cell trust game.
"There are guards posted, no one will get in or out, Alora."
I nod, "I know, it doesn't help though. I hate being alone as much as I hate being with others."
Michonne bites her tongue, I know she understands what I mean. She and I aren't too much different, she just goes about things a bit quieter.
With a few more words Michonne let me be, I could hear a door being locked and then another one. It's so dark and honestly cold in here.
I glance over to the mattress with the springs sticking out and a blanket that was put through a goddamn blender. I hesitate to sit on it, I might catch aids or something. I lean my back against the concrete wall and try to sleep.
"Alora, they don't trust you," Elowen told me.
Of course, they don't I'm 15, fresh out of an abusive family. I spent 3 years on my own but forbid they trust me.
"Can't you make them?" I ask, hoping by the grace of God I get a safe place.
"I will try. I want you to stay, Alo."
Her light brown skin and dark hair contrasted with the things I was familiar with, dead grey people. She wore an olive green t-shirt with blue jeans covered in blood and dirt.
"You deserve to have a safe place where you're trusted," She told me with a smile.
Her warm embrace comforted me, I had never felt that much love. My parents never showed affection so I had to find it in strange men who only wanted me for the night or in this case Elowen, a strange girl who took an older sister role over me.
