All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 22

I remember reading somewhere that severe dehydration can bring on hallucinations, but I refuse to believe my condition is that bad. Yet, he was so real. He was right in front of me. So close I could touch him. And his voice – his voice sounded so clear. I remain stunned that he’s not next to me.

My mind keeps going back and forth between forcing myself to keep going and live, or to just give up and die. Dying seems so much easier. Death is appealing to me. I want to die, but it goes against every instinct in my body. My legs keeps forcing me to go on; certain parts of my brain scream at me to find water so I can live. With every passing moment, I grow more and more exhausted from the civil war that wages on in my mind.

I also hear voices in my head. Voices of my father and of Jayson. They keep telling me I have to live, they keep reminding me of all the sacrifices they made in order for me to be here, breathing and alive.

I decide to sit on the ground. There’s no point in walking anymore. I’m not going to find water. My brain screams at me for giving up, but I don’t care.

“Macy! Macy! Macy, stop!” I pause for a moment before I realize I’m hallucinating again. He’s not really here; that’s not really his voice.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look up. “Macy, what the hell are you doin’? Where are you goin’?”

He stands in front of me with blue, clouded eyes and disheveled hair. He looks so real that it makes my heart ache. I miss him.

I miss him so much.

“Macy, answer me!” he demands.

I decide to play along. “I’m looking for water.”

He stares at me, his eyes searching mine. “Come here, I’m gonna carry you home.”

He motions for me to take off my backpack and I comply, handing it to him once it’s off my shoulders. He shrugs it onto his back and then slips one arm beneath my knees and the other around my waist. As soon as he lifts me off the ground I know he has to be real.

 I’m not hallucinating.

“You’re really here,” I croak.

I hardly recognize the sound of my own voice.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

“How did you find me?”

“I tracked you. You’ve been walkin’ around in circles, we’re only ‘bout a mile away from the house,” he answers.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this close to his face. I can see the scars underneath one of his eyes and the freckles across his nose and the perfect shape of his jaw. Now, I think I’m hallucinating because it’s impossible for someone to be as beautiful as he is.

“I don’t get why you’d leave,” he huffs. “What were you thinkin’?”

It’s becoming harder and harder for me to speak.

“You don’t need me,” I manage to say.

He finally looks at my face again and I watch as it breaks. “You don’t know what you’re sayin’.”

My eyelids feel heavy.

“I just I-I need water,” I whisper.

I’m too exhausted to argue with him.

“I know you do. We’re almost there.”

***

I wake up and the first thing I see is a white ceiling. My forehead feels wet and when I go to wipe the moisture off, I end up knocking a washcloth onto the floor. I sit up. Everything floods back into my brain all at once.