[DISCONTINUED] FIND YOU ( T. WALKING DEAD )

- II.

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FIND YOU
CHAPTER TWO;

( reminder. )

❛ jack is finally able
to speak to carl. ❜

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DEEP BREATH IN, deep breath out.

Her sneakers rapidly smacked the tile floor, knees bouncing like their only goal was to reach the sky. She didn't even notice it. Everything was shaking, from her quivering lips to the rhythmic tapping of her nails against the toilet lid beneath her; her legs were of no significance. Never had she seen herself so shaky, like a live earthquake out of things to ruin.

Even when she was informed of her father's coma, she didn't shake. She sobbed, of course, but never quaked with fear, worry, and anxiety.

Then again, she didn't witness a man's unjust death.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

She stood to her feet; unconsciously, her hand raised to her mouth where her thumbnail was bitten down on relentlessly. After an entire night of anxious nail-biting, there was almost nothing left to bite. It caused more pain now rather than relief.

She didn't mind the pain.

It was just a reminder.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"Okay," she whispered to herself with no actual intent to, eyes dragging up the length of the bathroom sink until they fixated on her reflection staring back at her. Her tired eyes wore dark circles and bags that she could only assume were from a lack of rest; thin streaks of interference within her generally dirt-clad face trailed down her cheeks as a result of the hours she spent crying in the RV bathroom; her bottom lip was reddened in some areas due to the tremendous amount of times she bit down on it to stop her cries from being audible.

She wanted to scream.

After some thought, she realized that she'd never actually screamed before; every child screams out of joy at least once in their life - that she had done, but actually screaming was not something she'd ever experienced. Allowing an anguished, tortured, lingering shriek to erupt from her mouth was something she'd never even felt the need to do.

Everything seemed to be changing in the aftermath of Otis' death. Every tear streak was a piece of rubble, every swallowed sob was just another piece of debris, and every muffled scream-to-be was the time-bomb, the paroxysm waiting to destroy what hadn't already been destroy before.

Deep breath in...

"Okay, this fucking breathing thing isn't working," she muttered to herself, wiping her hair out of her face. She straightened her back, regaining the composure she once walked proud with, but she slunk back down within seconds. "Forget it."