Survive ( twd carlgrimes)

Chapter 10

Maggie starts to brush through my knotty hair with her fingers and I cringe awkwardly at her simple touch. She's only helping but I don't really like being looked after. I don't say anything though even when she struggles with the big knots tangled in my mess of hair.

"Sorry about this" I mumble, swirling my hand around my hair.
"They didn't really give us the luxury of a hairbrush." I add.
"Don't worry about it. Where do you want it cut to?" She asks kindly, while eyeing the length of my hair, it ends at my waist.

I think about this for a minute.
"I don't really care. Something easy, manageable. Don't bother trying to get the rest of the knots out, it's pointless. Just cut it off."
"Okay. We should probably wash it first, i'll do it in the sink." She explains and I have no problem with this as long as it's out of my way.

I bend over, putting my hair in the sink while Maggie fills it with water, cold water. I didn't really expect hot water, the sinks don't even work. We have to use bottles of water that we found in the house. We only use two bottles in case anyone gets angry that we wasted it. But even as the water touches the back of my neck the chill of the it sends a shiver down my spine.

Maggie lathers some kind of soap into my hair and rinses it.
I laugh at how ridiculous this all is and how the task of washing and cutting my hair is so minor compared to everything else going on right now.

"What's so funny?" Maggie asks.
I offer her another answer, still true, just more of a conversation starter.
"I'm surprised you're standing anywhere near me. This is my first shower in weeks. They sometimes let us shower when we got so bad that we were covered in dirt and blood. I'd kill for a warm shower right now."
"Me and you both kid." She replies and if I could see her I know she'd be wearing a smile on her face.
"Okay, I'm done washing your hair, stand up and i'll start cutting it."

When I stand back up I look in the mirror. I'm shocked when I see the girl staring back at me. Her wet hair hangs dead by her face and continues long past what the mirror can show. Her face is covered in dirt and there's a massive bump, that has turned purple on her forehead. She has another bruise under her eye and her lips are double the size they're supposed to be.

Her arms and clothes are covered in dry blood from killing that walker yesterday.
"I look like hell" I groan.
She laughs. "Yeah, you do, but all the scratches and bruises will go away in time. Besides, we look like hell too." She comforts.

It's true, her hair is sticking out in all directions and she has bags under her eyes showing her obvious exhaustion. I wonder what they had been up to before they found us. Still, she didn't look even half as bad as any of us.

I bend my face down towards the sink and splash the plugged water onto my face. I start to rub the water into my face, scrubbing away any dirt and dry blood. After a few minutes of scrubbing, I lift my head up to look at my face in the mirror. My face is now clean and you can see all the cuts and bruises more clearly, but at least this way they might heal quicker if they have more access to the air.

Maggie grabs the scissors and I stiffen, watching her suspiciously as she begins cutting my hair in a straight line across my back, so it's level with my elbow, or maybe just slightly above it. She keeps going, not pausing once. I don't relax even for a second, I find myself waiting for her to pounce. I shouldn't let anyone I barely know this close to me with a scissors. Suddenly this idea seems silly and reckless.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
I feel my head getting lighter and lighter with each snip as my thick hair falls next to our feet. Just when I'm about to stop her she puts the scissors down and smiles.
"All done!"

I look up to inspect her work in the mirror. It looks healthier already as it rests between my shoulder and my elbow. It's now drying in some places, showing off the shades of natural blonde hidden in the brown. I almost feel bad for mentally accusing her of being a totally ruthless bitch.

"Thanks Maggie. Were you a hairdresser before this or just winged it?" I tease, shaking the murderous thoughts from my head.
"Nah, I was in collage but I used to cut my roommates hair for her."
"Oh. What were you studying?" I ask. 
"I was studying Nursing, I wasn't any good but I tried my best for dad. He got me into that kind of work, he used to be a vet."
"Oh, is your dad here?" I ask.

"Um, no... he was killed." She whispers, the constant smile suddenly nowhere to be seen. I feel an odd wave of guilt wash over me.
"Oh, Maggie I'm really sorry, I wouldn't have brought it up if I'd known-"
"Don't worry about it. Really."
She pauses as if hesitating her next words.
"I've met your mom, but your dad wasn't-"
I shake my head. "He's dead too."

"How did he die?" She asks
"Car crash. Before any if this, I suppose he got out lucky, he didn't have to see any of this."
"Sorry." she mumbles.
I shrug as if the memories of him leaving didn't break my heart or keep me up at night for years wondering what I could've done to change the way things ended.

"My mother made him leave us. I'm still not sure why. She doesn't like to talk about him. I remember parts of the story though. He was kinda the town crazy, you know. Everyone was scared of him or made fun of him. He worked in a disease center and one day he came home in a big ruckus and said we were in trouble and he needed to fix things. Mom didn't like how he acted and told him to leave. Next day we got news that he was killed in a car crash."

She doesn't reply and I wonder if the story I've been so used to hearing or thinking about was uncomfortable for her. Or maybe she really just didn't know what to say.
"But he gave me this ring" I say, lifting the mood slightly, pointing to the ring on my left hand.
"It's beautiful" she says while in a trance, starring at the beauty of the ring.

The ring is made of gold. It fits perfectly around my finger. In the center of the ring, there's a sparkling black rock. It's a rare gem, he had told me. Surrounding the gem, the gold splits of into swirling spirals to hold the gem in place. There are three spirals each side of the gem. Within the spirals there are smaller diamonds that sparkle under the light.

We both hear a noise coming from the sitting room, tearing us away from the jewelry.
"They must be awake. Come on!" She says while taking my hand and dragging me back to the kitchen.