HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER ONE !
[ season one, episode five ]
Amy Harrison's death had been an eye-opening, shock inducing, gut wrenching event that ripped through the normality the group had slowly tried, and rather majestically failed, to assemble over time.
The walker tearing through the skin of Amy's shoulder replayed over and over again in the onlookers minds, like a broken record stuck on a loop. It had rendered them completely immobile — shocked, horrified, and sorrowful as a result of the kind young girl's brutal death. She was like sunshine. Now, her limp body was draped beside the blood-splattered RV, her limbs drenched in blood, her skin paler than a ghost's, and her cerulean eyes dimmed to a lifeless grey.
The day Amy Harrison died, Marley Whitman changed.
Reality crashed-landed in the blood soaked soil beneath her feet. She understood, from the very moment ravenous walkers infiltrated the once-lively camp, that this new ugly world was not going to get any better any time soon . . . no matter how much she tried to believe it would.
Marley's swelling hope was pried viciously from the ivory cage in her chest and crushed to dust beneath her very own boot.
Self destruction wasn't pretty.
The truth, also, wasn't pretty. It was repugnant. Grotesque. Unprepossessing. Unpleasant. Even though it was an invisible force of nature, Marley believed it would be an impossible task to look the grisly face of truth in the eye and smile. She was a liar. A pathological liar. She lied — mostly for the good of her own deteriorating health and that of her sister's.
The truth was cruel and cold and bleak, and Marley did anything to avoid it.
Blotches of deep-orange seeped into the pearly skies above. The sun was rising in the far distance — a hazy, golden globe crawling over the horizon — and casting a mockingly bright light over the decimated world. Cicadas buzzed, soft voices floated through the air, and there was an occasional scuffing of boots when someone finally plucked up the courage and momentum to pick themselves up from the ground.
The aftermath of the walkers savage attack was still in play several hours later.
Her Mom once said that things get easier over time, but she was wrong. She had been so, so incredibly wrong. Things got worse.
Sweat clung to every inch of Marley's skin as she leaned against the bonnet of a car. Her downcast eyes flickered across what was left of camp. First, her gaze landed on Lori and Carl, talking in hushed and respectful voices as the mother wiped blood from her son's cheeks. Then, it was over to Jim, who Marley noticed to be sweating rather profusely, carrying a crimson-stained shovel. And lastly, her eyes stuck to Andrea — hovering over the dead and limp body of Amy, who had died from blood loss as a result of the substantial bite wound peppered along her collarbone.
The entire time, Andrea hadn't moved. Her posture was stiff, as if to say she refused to move unless someone physically ripped her from Amy's side.
Fortunately, nobody had the guts to do that . . . or a heart that was cold enough to pull off such a stunt.
Marley assumed it was immediate grief. It had struck Andrea instantaneously, plunging her beneath a bath of ice-cold water. Through the shock of watching Amy bleed out, cradling her frame as the glinting light faded from her eyes, Andrea couldn't accept the fact her little sister was truly dead. Her emotions collided all at once, like a fast approaching tsunami wave that had the power to swallow skyscrapers. Only, in this instance, Andrea was the skyscraper and the grief of Amy's death was the foaming tsunami wave.
From afar, Marley couldn't help but watch the scene play out.
Andrea had cocked a gun when Rick Grimes tried to speak to her — to persuade her to leave Amy's side before the dead girl had the chance to warp into a snarling monster. Rick had good intentions. However, the grieving woman pushed the pistol in his face regardless, daring him to continue, and so he quickly left Andrea to her own devices.
She just wanted to be left alone.
"The dead girl's a time bomb." Daryl Dixon said eventually, flexing his fingers around the hilt of an axe.
Marley peered over her shoulder and glared tempestuously at the southern man. She often spoke her mind, daring to challenge those who happened to oppose her. But this time . . . it was proving relatively hard to conjure up the right words that she could spitefully spit his way. Instead, she scoffed softly.
The adults who hadn't been bitten, torn apart or resurrected from the dead gathered around the scattered ashes of a long extinguished campfire.
"And what do you suggest?" Rick asked sharply, his eyes darting between Daryl and Andrea skeptically.
The brother-less man pressed two fingers against his temple and tapped a triple beat. "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance —"
"No." Marley interjected scoldingly, uncrossing her looped arms. "Leave her alone. She's obviously grieving." she then lowered her voice and added a quick, "Christ."
Her narrowed eyes bore into Daryl's with displeasure. In return, he scoffed disapprovingly.
"Yeah, and what the hell do you know?" Daryl inquired patronisingly. "You're, what . . . twelve —"
"Fifteen."
Daryl blinked. Then, he blinked again, swallowing thickly. "Whatever. You ain't got no right to boss me around, little lady."
Scoffing, he turned on the heel of his boot and walked toward the scattered pile of mangled bodies, clutching the wooden handle of a large pickaxe. The echo of Morales slamming an axe into the skulls of those who had passed on — and caused the devastation — reverberated around camp. Marley shifted uncomfortably, rolling her shoulders back and inhaling a sharp breath that rattled in her chest.
She had never seen so much death in such a short space of time, and the unforgettable scenes of the bloody night were sure to be playing over and over in her nightmares for the rest of eternity.
She desperately needed to take a breath.
Marley pushed past Lori and Rick, using the back of her hand to remove splatters of scarlet from her pale and bruised cheeks. The adults exchanged wary looks, both unsure about how much the carnage had affected her. She was only fifteen after all. Surely, the flashes of rotten teeth and shredded arteries and pools of blood had not already been forgotten — nor would they be for a very long time. Marley needed someone to tell her everything was going to be okay, that the world would revert back to its normal ways eventually, even if it was a lie. But Lori knew that smothering her with sympathy and affection at that moment would only make the adolescent feel claustrophobic. So, for the meantime, she let Marley do her own thing.
Soon enough, the sun sank further into the horizon.
The blood that had been splashed over cobblestone and nylon tents dried and cracked under the globe's burning gaze. Bodies were burnt, buried and bound with discarded blankets. Carol whimpered over the loss of her disgusting excuse for a husband. Sophia didn't shed a tear. Carl absentmindedly kicked pebbles across the clearing. Sage . . .
Sage.
Marley's heart plummeted to her feet.
Sage Whitman, her little sister, was nowhere to be seen.
The twelve-year-old girl she swore to protect — swore to keep safe over her mother's last, dying breath — was not there. In her moment of selfishness, watching the grief-stricken antics of everyone else in camp, Marley had neglected to act as an older sister and inevitably lost her.
Sage was gone.
What if she was amongst the mountain of bodies?
What if she was stumbling around the quarry, snapping her jaw and snarling out of desire to taste human flesh?
Dramatically, Marley threw her crowbar aside and sprinted toward Dale's RV. If she were anywhere, Sage would be with Dale. They had an unbreakable bond — and Sage often referred to the greying man as her long-lost-grandpa. She made the entire camp chuckle with the statement one time. Growing up, Sage never had a real grandpa; he died when Marley was only three days old, leaving Mom depressed for two years. It was nice for her to imagine what it was like.
Marley threw open the RV door. It was smothered in Amy's blood.
"Dale? Dale!"
Her eyes flickered around the interior.
The man immediately shot up from the patterned sofa, eyes wide and frenzied. He had been sitting with his head buried in his wrinkled hands, rethinking everything about this new . . . life. Amy's brutal death was still flashing before his very eyes, and it was like a segment of his soul had been torn from the barrens in his chest. It was painful.
The lost look on Marley's face was, if it was possible, adding to the gargantuan amount of pain Dale felt stabbing at his heart.
"Have you seen Sage?" she asked breathlessly.
Dale's brows furrowed, and he shook his head weakly.
That was enough to send Marley into a turmoil of denial and panic and bubbling anxiety. She had to keep looking. Her sister couldn't be missing! It was Sage — she was staggeringly smart for a teenager. There weren't any plausible reasons as to why she would wander off.
Dale opened his mouth to question Marley, but she had disappeared almost as quick as she had appeared, running a hand through her matted, blonde locks.
He stared at the wall, starstruck.
Then, without wasting another second, Dale grabbed his binoculars and clambered to the roof of the RV.
On the ground, Marley desperately scanned the perimeter of camp, turning around on the balls of her feet repeatedly until she felt dizzy. Beads of sweat broke through her hairline. A wave of nausea slammed into her stomach and knocked her senses haywire. Her chest and lungs and throat felt horribly constricted, and she could barely breathe.
The world became a blur.
The ground beneath her feet was swaying, side to side.
The ringing in her ears squealed until she couldn't take it anymore.
Then, as if the world was having an absolute field day taunting and casting anxiety upon Marley, Jacqui cried out — not in pain, but rather drastic realisation.
"Jim's bit!"
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
hey y'all...
hitting you with #pain for the first chapter.
sorry. but I'm honestly really excited to delve
into this story, and Marley may be my
most favourite oc I've ever explored!
this is the first book of four, belonging to
my 'No Time To Die' series! it will cover
seasons 1, 2 and 3, so it will be quite long in comparison to some of the others.
anyways, I really hope you continue
reading on, and that you enjoyed!
— Gia <3