A shower. It had been way too long since I had last showered and I dreaded to think of what I actually looked like. I couldn't even remember when I had last looked in a mirror.
The door locked with a click as I saw the steam still present on the mirror from whoever had last been in the shower. Everyone refused to stay in a different house so there was a slight queue for the bathroom, and I had volunteered to go last. Daryl plain refused to go in for whatever reason.
I wiped the steam off the mirror with my sleeve and stared at my reflection. Dried blood clung to the strands of my dirty blonde hair as well as the dirt and mud from previous days which I hadn't been able to get out. My eyes were tired, my cheeks hollowed out with blood and bruises covering the skin of my face. Brown blood from that walker was splattered across my face, some drops smudged whilst others remained intact upon their arrival.
Was I even looking at me? I didn't recognise myself anymore. I look nothing like the small child I remember. I remember my chubby cheeks and rosy tint that kissed my nose and cheeks. Now the only rosy tint was that of the liquid that leaves both my own body and someone else's.
I broke my gaze from myself to look at a folded up towel with clothes sat on top of the toilet seat and I spotted a hairbrush next to it. Gripping it tightly in my hand I tried my best to brush through the knots and cotters of my locks. The harsh tugs burned at my scalp as I continued to drag it through and eventually I had rid it of enough knots to be able to get in the shower.
I stripped off, kicking my clothes into the corner and stepped into the shower. Fiddling with the tap, I turned it and nearly screamed from the coldness. In a quick second it was heating up and I watched as the water swirled with dark red and brown, it pooling at my feet.
The dollop of shampoo in my palm felt foreign as I lathered into my now sore scalp. The feeling was strange. It felt relaxing on my scalp but uncomfortable as my hands worked it's way through my hair.
Lather. Rinse. Lather. Rinse.
I didn't even know how many times I had cleansed my hair before I dowsed it in conditioner, making sure every section of my mid lengths and ends was fully coated in the creamy substance.
Rinse.
I watched the soap and water go down the drain and moved to my body. I used lots of soap, scrubbing at my skin hard to rid it of all the dirt, blood, grime and guts. The floor of the shower was covered in the dirty water and the swirling of it exiting the premises was almost like it was cleansing my mind as well as my body. I could feel the sting and dull throb of my gunshot wound and I couldn't resist the urge to look at it.
It was red and pink, sore and slightly swollen around the actual wound and it didn't look like it had healed much at all. Surely it should of at least scabbed slightly by now? Looking at it made me feel queasy, so instead I went back to cleansing myself of all the horrors I had been through.
——————
I didn't enjoy sitting wrapped in my towel anymore. I had been in here for long enough, sat on the toilet lid as the water dripped from my legs onto the floor.
"Amelia? You okay in there?" I heard Rosita's voice and I stood up, dropping my towel to the floor.
"I'm okay," I shouted back. "Won't be a minute."
I stepped into the new clothes. There were light blue jeans with a white t-shirt with socks and underwear, my belt discarded on the floor. There was also a nude bra, that I knew I couldn't clasp properly. I had no idea who's they were or who they used to belong to but they were clean. We all had new clothes and it felt weird wearing them. My jeans were too long and the shirt was baggier than I expected. I had to fasten the bra from the front and then twist it back into place which I would not admit to anyone. Such a simple task to do and yet I couldn't get myself dressed.
I pulled the socks onto my feet, enjoying the way the soft material soothed the blisters without irritation like my old socks had. I dreaded having to next put my boots on, knowing that they would continue to irritate my feet.
My reflection was completely different when I next looked. The bruises and scrapes were still present, littering my brow bone and cheeks yet I looked better. Before my shower, the mud and blood made my injuries look way worse than they actually were and I actually felt some what prettier now. My hair was slightly waved as I wrung my hair out, dabbing it with my towel. My hair was a lot longer than I remembered it to be, reaching way past my shoulders and to the middle of my back.
With a shake of my head, I grabbed my belt off of the floor and held it in my hands for a moment, The leather was wearing slightly, and I had no idea how to stop it. The slight frayed edges made me worry that it was loosing its toughness that it always had whenever Dad would use it.
I threaded it through the jean loops, pulling it to the tightest hole it could go. It hung loosely still. I was quick to make my way to the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers to look for a small but sharp knife.
"What are you looking for?" Carol asked from behind me.
"A knife," I said simply, as I continued to rummage through the kitchen's drawers.
"They're in this drawer," Carol opened a drawer and handed me a butter knife.
"No that won't do it," I declined, and moved towards the drawer to put it back in its designated spot.
The knife I found was small in length and pointed, and I knew it was perfect. Unthreading my belt I placed it on the counter, and did a small stab at where I thought the hole would be best. Twisting and digging the knife further it eventually created a small hole.
The belt fit now, and I was ecstatic. Carol gave me a tight lipped smile, her eyes glued to the belt that once belonged to my father. I knew she didn't like him and I was surprised at the fact she was even talking to me after what happened.
"Listen, Amelia," her voice lowered as she looked at me. "I'm sorry about your dad. I know he was a bad man but you're allowed to be upset about it, okay?"
"He deserved it."
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I maintained our eye contact. Her face shown nothing but curiosity and slight sadness. Why was she sad? It wasn't like she liked him, even I didn't like him.
Carol looked away and I took that as my cue to leave. I turned into the living room and saw Carl, laid on the sofa with a comic in hand. Rick was holding baby Judith and I could see Daryl through the window, sitting on the porch.
Rick looked up; Carl also taking note of my arrival and I nodded at him. Rick looked somewhat cautious and I didn't know why.
"Let's go for a walk," Rick said, nodding to the door and I followed silently.
I looked back at Carl, meeting his eyes for a split second before I had to close the door. I walked down the porch steps past Daryl.
"Ya look better without all that blood," Daryl commented and I gave a half smile.
"You would too if you weren't so stubborn."
I caught up to Rick, who held Judith close to him whilst we walked. He looked down at me before looking back ahead as we walked the street.
"I hate to ask this Amelia." He started. "But what happened with you and Hank?"
I bit my bottom lip as I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I walked.
"What part?" I responded.
"Whatever you're comfortable telling me. But I'd like to know it all so I can help you."
"I don't need help, I'm fine," I answered, although I knew I wouldn't mind that extra help if I was allowed it.
Rick stayed silent, and I didn't know if this was a good sign or a bad sign. Maybe he was just thinking about everything that happened, or thinking about the losses that have happened.
"Dad was a bad man. Before we got took by Terminus we were with a group. They were good people, they looked after me, had our back. Luke was always nice to me and would try to get me to like open up a bit more." I looked at Rick, who looked at me, remaining quiet but still listening. "Kelly was the first to notice the things Dad would do. He didn't like the way they would watch us now; said they were nosy bastards and didn't know how to keep us alive so he waited until it was late and he was on watch and we left. I didn't realise until a few days that he'd took everything they owned."
Truthfully, I missed Luke. He brought a kind of warmth to my life that hadn't been there before. It didn't matter how shitty things would go he would always make sure I was okay and he liked to call himself my big brother.
"Like he did with us?" Rick asked and I nodded.
"He told me this time it would be different because you knew what you were doing. Then at the church he told me not to get comfortable because Daryl was getting suspicious. I didn't know he had been stealing from you until Carol noticed. I really am sorry."
"Amelia, you don't have to apologise for what your dad did. You could've warned us, yeah, but it's not your fault," Rick said and I couldn't sense one word of a lie.
I had thought that they would've been a lot more cautious around me after what happened, that they would be scared I'd betray them or something, and yet Rick was trying to defend my actions. No matter what he said I'd never believe him.
"We um, we found his body when we were looking for you," Rick started. "Do you want to talk about what happened? Why you had to do it?"
"The storm was really bad and he flipped. So did a tree though," I tried to joke. "Cut him off before he could finish me off." Literally.
Rick stayed quiet. I looked to him to see him already looking at me. I hadn't noticed we'd stopped walking.
"You did the right thing," he said.