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Time seemed to pass slower the days she lay, camouflaged by the sand colored sheets, words inches away from her ghostly face. Her eyes were strained and sore, and the lids sat heavily upon her pupils. If she'd owned a mirror she imagined they'd be bloodshot. Reading had become a challenge, but gazing at the wall, mind blank, wasn't a favorable way to pass time either. Be there any sense left in her, she would have shut the pages and left the novel by her beside. She had read it three times in her life anyways, she knew the story from beginning to end. Gone out, into the garden, sat, and taken a moment to admire the fresh scent of a single rose pedal, something she hadn't had the privilege of doing in a long while.
Yet, unlike anything she'd experienced before, getting out from under the sheets had become the most difficult task of the day. When with her family, she would wake during the early hours and clean, sometimes go on runs and on rare occasion, a hunting trip with Daryl. She enjoyed providing and being of help. As long as she got her reading breaks, she found that she loved the small town of Alexandria, with all the people in it. It was a placid atmosphere before Negan reigned.
The sanctuary's cold brick walls made her feel isolated and even trapped. As much as she despised the idea of providing for the enemy, she figured if she didn't get out of bed soon enough, she'd forget how to use her legs. There was a small calendar that hung on the wall beside her bed. Vincent had given it as a small gift, said he found it on one of his runs. She had barely seen him during the two weeks she kept alone in her bedroom. Most nights, she was sleeping better than before, the nightmares coming to a sudden halt and being replaced by nothing. Just nothing. It was unusual, as she regularly had vivid dreams of adventures and what not. Now, when Vada awoke she was unable to remember a second of what had crossed her mind the night before.
She had been marking the days off with some ball point pen she found on the concrete floors. It was a late October day, the photo on the calendar was autumn leaves tumbling and children frolicking, tossing leaves every which way. She squinted her eyes as she gazed at the photo. Only having strained them more, she turned away and felt a tug at her heart, something she'd been feeling often as a great sense of nostalgia overcame her. She didn't cry much anymore. She figured her father would want her to stay strong.
Unbelievably, for the first time in weeks, she arose from her bed and put on some clothes. It was the least she would do to make herself appear presentable. Her hair was knotted from the cotton pillow, and thankfully she'd taken a shower the night before, so she wasn't dirtied. She slipped on her already tied shoelaces and walked out the door, not bothering to lock it behind her, which was probably a mistake, figuring those were the days people were the most selfish. She knew the way to Negan's room. It wasn't too far, at most a three minute walk. Approaching the large doors made her feel as if she had done something wrong again, and was being taken to be punished. She took elongated breaths and assured herself she was doing the right thing, as she tapped her knuckles delicately against the metal doors.
