XXIII. The Murmur of Silent Torment

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Numbness

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Numbness.

Numbness can sometimes feel like a reprieve from the relentless dance of emotions that accompany every waking moment. It's a sanctuary from the turmoil, a respite from deciphering the tangled web of feelings daily life presents.

Pain.

On the other hand, is often perceived as an enigma. Some view it as a deliberate choice, a conscious decision to experience or sustain agony as a means to feel alive, to find a purpose within the throes of suffering. There's a strange paradox in how society perceives pain: some glorify it, while others strive to numb it, each person navigating their unique path through the spectrum of sensation and emotion.

Madeleine approaches the cell block gates, returning from her lookout duty at the towers, having heard distressing screams echoing from the tunnels. As she arrives, Carl swings the gate open, surprised to meet his sister face to face.

"That was from inside. Did you hear it?" Carl asks, his eyes locking onto his sister as he grapples with concern.

"Yeah, I did." Madeleine confirms, her tone not revealing a sense of urgency, contrasting with her brother.

"I thought it was you." Carl admits, slightly relieved, only to be met by Madeleine's resolute presence as the rest of the group congregates at the gate.

"What if they came back in for something? What if they're in trouble?" Beth frets, clutching the newborn close to her chest as Madeleine moves closer to check on her baby sister.

"They're not. No one's back yet." Madeleine reassures, gently kissing the top of her sister's head. But her calm demeanor and apparent detachment disturb the group, hinting at an aloofness toward the cause of the screams.

Beth inquires, her worry palpable. "How could anyone else get in?"

"The tombs are filled with walkers that wandered in from outside. I guess someone else could have done the same thing." Madeleine shrugs, drawing her sword, her gaze fixed on the cell block entrance. "If they come in here, they'll regret it."

"What if they don't even make it out?" Carl interjects, his concern evident, but Madeleine's response, void of any empathy, raises concern among the group. "I'm going." Carl asserts, but Madeleine firmly opposes, blocking his path.

"No, you are not." she rebukes, her tone unwavering as she stares down at her brother. "We've had this conversation before. Lock the door. Let them figure it out. They're not ours to worry about."

"Is that the world you want Judith to live in?" Carl challenges, but Madeleine's response only emphasizes her adaptation to the grim reality they face.

"It's the world we live in, we had to adapt. She won't have to; she'll grow up in it." Madeleine responds coolly, sending shivers down their spines.

"Dad would go," Carl persists.

Madeleine sighs, annoyed, seizing the keys from Carl's hands and exits the gate, locking it behind her. As the group pleads, Madeleine remains resolute, emphasizing her father's absence and her role in charge.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | TWD [Book 1]Where stories live. Discover now