Chapter 12

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"That's everything." Carl says bringing a back pack into my cell.

He wears a blue and white baseball shirt, jeans, and his sheriffs hat and he looks adorable. I motion to the dresser drawers that I hadn't filled. He folds his clothes and places them in there nicely.

"Wanna go outside?" Carl asks. "It's not to cold today."

"Sure." I say. I grab my jacket and put it on and he puts on his coat.

"I'm gonna have to carry you again." He points out.

"And why is that?" I question raising my eyebrows.

"Your legs will get to tired from walking all that way." And without further discussion he picks me up again.

We walk down the stairs and outside and then he puts me down. Daddy and Rick are over near the garden talking about something, and Rick is holding baby Judith.

"Judith!" I say in a high voice and walk over there. I hold out my arms for her and Rick carefully hands her to me. It's a little awkward feeling only holding her with one arm, but I shift my weight to my right leg and it's a little easier. She grabs handfuls of my hair and pulls it. "Ow!" I cringe.

Carl comes over and opens her tiny hands making her drop my hair. There is still no snow on the ground, and it's almost January.

"As I was saying, I think we could try to get an early start on the crops. This is the mildest winter ever." Daddy says.

I kind of zone out for a minute, day-dreaming about it being summer again. When I snap out of it, Rick and Carl have shovels, and are digging something up in the garden.

"I completely forgot I had planted potatoes there." Daddy says.

As Carl is bending over using the shovel, his hat falls off. Rick picks it up and places it on my head and smiles. "There's a new sheriff in town." He says and chuckles.

I turn it a little bit making it more comfortable and smile. "It looks good." Carl says and chuckles just like Rick. Daddy laughs to.

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*One week later.

My side is mostly better, the only evidence of the stab wound is a bright red line. As for my wrist, well, it's pretty much the most annoying thing ever. I can't do anything one handedly. I even had to get Carl to push my shirt sleeve up for me on my right arm, because I couldn't do it.

The council has meetings all the time, and they actually thought of something that we should have months ago; A plan B. If anything were to happen to the prison, we are all instructed to get on the old Woodbury school bus, which is packed with supplies, and go to and old Warehouse that Daryl found that's about half an hour away.

The group has been acting like I'm fragile ever since I broke my wrist. I'm not allowed to go on runs, or out of the prison anymore because they think I can't protect myself, which I can. Today I asked Daryl if I could go hunting with him, and he replied with, "I don't think that's a good idea with your wrist."

I finally got so fed up with it that I climbed up here to sit on the roof and to think by myself. It's helping me to clear my head in a way. I sigh and drop my legs so they dangle over the side of the flat roof.

This was the exact reason that I didn't want anyone to know about my asthma. Glenn and Carl and my family are the only ones that do. Glenn is practically family, and Carl probably wouldn't know about it if he hadn't been with me when it's happened a few times. I don't want anyone treating me like I'm weak. I hate feeling like everyone else is protecting me and feeding me while I sit around all day.

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