Saved

XX

It's been three weeks since Beth died in Atlanta, and two weeks and six days since we started on the road to Washington D.C. and about two hours since we lost the cars and had to start walking. As soon as we got out of the cars, I left to hunt. 

I can't... be around them much anymore. It's too much. I drove Riley away, I couldn't save the hospital from being overrun, and I couldn't save Beth. All she had was me. I was her only hope of survival and I let her down. I saw that damn dog, and I wanted to help it. Wanted it to survive, make it up to Bailey. I don't know. But I let those stupid walkers in, and I told her to run. If I had just told her to wait outside, she wouldn't have been picked up, and she wouldn't have died. 

I stopped next to a red barn, and sat down against a tree. It wouldn't be hard to find them when I decided to. I could take a break. It's about time anyway. 

It took me a minute to dig out the small knife from my pockets, but when I found it, I flipped it open. It's one of Riley's. She left it in my bag way back when we were at the prison. I was supposed to give it back to her, it was one her dad gave her, but we always forgot. And now, I use it to keep track of time. 

I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt on my left arm, up to the elbow, and I could see the tiny, little marks. Some were white now, shiny. Old. You can see how they heal over time. Each separated by exactly one month. Tiny little ticks that tell me how many months it's been since I've seen my family. Right now, I'm at thirty-six, and I'm about to add the next one, a tiny mark to indicate thirty-seven. I have them grouped in fives, like the way they teach you to do it in school, so they're easy to count. If I had them just by themselves it'd take me forever, but then again, I know the number without having to look. 

But maybe one day I won't. I need this, to remember her. To remember the pain of losing her. I moved my right arm up, laying the small blade flat against my arm, and pulled it down, maybe a quarter of an inch, and lifted it up, watching the three small drops of blood fall from my arm. It wouldn't bleed much, it never does. 

I let out a sigh, and moved to get the cigarette pack out of my pocket, and put one in my mouth. I pulled out my lighter, and flicked it on, and held it, ready to light it. But I couldn't. I never can it seems. 

"You gonna actually light it this time brother?" I heard the deep voice of my brother rumble from behind me, and I groaned, and turned to look at him. He was leaning up against a tree behind me, arms crossed, with his blade pointing out so he wouldn't scratch himself, and he had a disapproving look on his face. 

"What?" I growled, yanking the cig out of my mouth, and shoving it back into the pack. 

"I know you love her man. But why are you doing this to yourself? It's been three years. She's probably not even..." He stopped, cut himself off, but it doesn't matter. He practically said it, and it was enough to get me on my feet, and to get me to wrap my hands up in the collar of his shirt, and shove him against the tree. 

"She's practically what, Merle?" I growled, and I knew I probably looked crazy as fuck, but I don't even care. 

"I'm sorry..." He tried to say, but I pulled him towards me and slammed him back into the tree again. 

"NO! What? What is she Merle? She dead? That what you were gonna say?" I roared, not even bothering to keep my voice down, walkers are the least of our problems now. 

"No, she's not dead. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Merle said gently, trying to calm me down, but I was having none of it. She's not dead. 

"She's not dead. She ain't! She's brilliant, and strong, and she and Dale are both alive. I swear to god Merle, you ever talk about them again I'll kill you." I growled, and then I dropped him, and practically flew back to the group, meeting them on the highway, where everyone was staring at me hopefully, expecting food, and I had to fake calm, and tell them 'no, sorry I hadn't gotten any food'. I was too busy worrying about a woman who hates me. Sorry bout that.