Rosie stayed in and around Daryl's tent until the sun began to set. She collected rocks for her slingshot to pass time and whittled down a stick until the end of it was pointy. She didn't have much else to do, and she was avoiding going anywhere Carl might be because Daryl said to give him time.
At one point, she was just walking around aimlessly, unsure of what else to do. But then she saw Shane sitting on the porch, watching her. It made her uncomfortable. Something was off about it him ever since they got to the farm. At the Atlanta camp, he and Lori always inserted themselves into Rosie's business. At the CDC, Shane let Rosie use his shower. In the RV, Shane let Rosie clean his gun and told her that he would never hurt her. But now he was different. He didn't even bother to say hello when he came inside and Rosie was bound to the couch. He was off.
Something about him was off.
And it scared Rosie. And it made her mad. Why did he seem to care about her well-being at one point, and then stopped caring all together when they got to the farm?
Is it because I was stupid and got lost? Is he mad at me?
Is he mad that Sophia got shot because of me?
Rosie thought about that for a long time. She wanted to know what she did wrong, but she wasn't sure. Maybe Shane just never cared about her in the first place.
She was on the lowest branch of a tree, trying to reach a cicada shell she saw, when she heard a loud whistle. Her head whipped around to see who it was, almost making her fall out of the tree, but it was just Daryl, standing next to his tent.
"Rose! C'mon, girl. Dinner's done," Daryl called, waving her over.
Rose. Is that a nickname? Did I get a nickname? What does that mean?
Pushing her thoughts away, Rosie reached up, picked the cicada shell off of the bark, and climbed back down. She started making her way to the house on her own, seeing that Daryl didn't wait up for her. When she got to the porch, she placed the cicada shell she found on the railing, not wanting to be rude and bring it inside.
Rosie made her way inside and saw that they had set up two tables, all surrounded by chairs, in the dining room, and had food out on the counters in the kitchen. She first went to the kitchen and put a little food on her plate, not taking too much as not to be rude. She didn't feel very hungry, anyway.
Once she got her plate, she went back into the dining room. Almost everyone was already sat down and eating, except Carol, she was in the bedroom with Sophia. Rosie looked around the room and saw that there were only two open spaces left. One was next to Carl, and the other was next to Shane.
Carl's prob'ly still pissed.
Shane's off.
Rosie walked right past them with her plate and went back outside. She sat down on the porch steps and started eating her food. She couldn't stop thinking about the bruise she left on Carl's cheek. She felt guilty.
First Sophia got shot because I couldn't find her fast enough, and now I hurt Carl.
I hurt Carl because I was angry.
Just like...
Daddy.
Rosie nearly jumped out of her skin when someone sat down next to her. She looked to her left to see that it was Carl. He had his own plate of food in his lap and began eating it without a word. Rosie wasn't sure what to say at first, but she thought that maybe since he sat next to her, she could finally apologize.
"I'm sorry for punchin' ya... again," Rosie said, pushing around the food on her plate with the fork in her hand.
"I'm sorry for what I said," Carl replied before taking a bite of food.
"Shouldn'ta hit ya, whether or not ya said it," Rosie said, frowning at the thought of it.
"I shouldn't have said that, whether or not you said something about my dad," Carl said.
Rosie was very surprised. She thought Carl would be pissed at her for a lot longer. It seemed like he didn't really care that she punched him. Maybe he was just forgiving her easily because he had no one else around his age to talk to. Sophia was still asleep. Hershel said that what Shane brought back from the school would help, but he wasn't making any promises.
"You can punch me back if ya want," Rosie said with a shrug. She really meant it, but Carl just started laughing.
"No, it's fine. I don't have to punch you," he said, still giggling. Rosie found herself wanting to smile too, but she twisted her lips to the side, trying to hide it. "Why do you always do that?" Carl asked after his laughter died down.
"What?" Rosie asked, confused.
"You always try to pretend you're not smiling. You're allowed to smile, y'know," Carl said.
It took Rosie a few moments to try and think of a response, but before she could say it, she was interrupted by a loud, horrified scream coming from inside the house. Carl and Rosie both shot up onto their feet, swinging the door open quickly.
They froze at the sight of Carol backing towards them, her hands over her mouth. Following slowly after Carol was Sophia.
But it wasn't Sophia.
Her skin was pale and her eyes were a murky yellow color. She walked towards Carol slowly, dragging her feet on the ground.
After seeing two more meals in addition to Carol, Sophia- or what used to be Sophia- picked up the pace. Carol and Carl both started sobbing, backing away slowly with tears in their eyes. Rick, Shane, and Daryl appeared in the doorway coming from the dining room, the rest of the group right behind them, trying to see what was going on.
No one knew what to do.
Rick raised his gun and aimed it right at the back of Sophia's head.
"No! Don't shoot that gun," Hershel shouted. His voice was loud and powerful in a way that Rosie had never heard before. Rick turned to look at Hershel quickly, wondering why he couldn't shoot. But Hershel didn't provide his explanation fast enough.
Carl, Carol, and Rosie were back up against a wall, Sophia still heading right towards them. She was getting faster with each step. Rick still hadn't raised his gun again. He didn't want Hershel to kick them off of the farm.
When Sophia was just a few feet away, Rosie pulled her knife out of its sheath and readied in her hand.
"No!" Hershel shouted at her, but Rosie didn't put her knife down. When Sophia grabbed onto Rosie's arms, with her mouth snapping open and shut, Rosie pushed the blade into the side of Sophia's head, and Sophia's dead body dropped to the ground.
Carol rushed forward, falling onto her knees in front of her daughter, and sobbed. "Oh, my baby," she cried, "my baby!"
Carl ran towards his mom, who grabbed him and held him tight against her, staring at Sophia and Carol in shock.
"She... she wasn't bit," Glenn breathed out.
"That's impossible," T-Dog said, shaking his head in distress.
There was a short silence, everyone staring at Sophia and Carol on the floor.
"We're all infected," Rick finally said.
"What?"
"At the CDC, Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."
"And you never thought to tell us that?!" Shane asked, his voice loud and gruff.
"Would it have made any difference?" Rick asked them all. Rosie stared down at Sophia and the blood stain on her blue shirt from the bullet wound. She couldn't help but feel like it was her own fault.
"You've known this whole time?" Glenn asked.
"How could I have known for sure? You saw how crazy that doctor was!"
"That is not your call to make, Rick!" Shane shouted.
Rosie couldn't focus anymore. None of what they were saying mattered to her. All that mattered was that Sophia was dead and it was Rosie's fault. Rosie couldn't find her in the woods, and Sophia got shot for it. And not only that, but in Rosie's mind, she killed her twice. This was her fault.
Unsure of what else to do, Rosie turned and went out the front door, into the dark of the night. She wasn't sure of where to go, but she knew that she didn't want to be around anyone, and she knew that she was angry, so she went towards the woods. She wasn't going to go deep into the woods and get lost again, she knew better than that. She just needed to be away from everyone and she needed to get rid of her anger, the only way she knew how.
After spending about five minutes beating on some poor tree trunk, Rosie sat against it, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't stop crying. Every time she managed to stop, she'd take a breath and close her eyes, but once she closed her eyes, she'd see Sophia's dead body and start crying all over again.
It took Rosie almost a full hour to calm herself down. She could still feel tears burning her eyes and there was still a lump in the back of her throat, but she didn't want to be out there alone anymore. Every snap of a twig made her jump, just waiting for a walker to appear. So she started walking back to the farm. She wasn't sure where she would go, but she decided she'd just figure it out later.
When she neared the edge of the tree line, Rosie heard a twig snap. She looked up from her boots and saw Daryl, leaning his back up against one of the trees. He was facing away, towards the farm, but he looked back at Rosie when he heard her footsteps.
"Been wonderin' if you'd come back on yer own," Daryl said as he started walking towards his tent. Rosie followed behind him, unsure of what else to do. "Can't keep runnin' off like that."
"Sorry," Rosie muttered.
"Been sayin' that a lot lately."
"I know."
When they reached Daryl's tent, Rosie was going to keep walking to go to the house and get her bag. She wasn't sure where she was going to sleep, but she hoped someone would just tell her if they saw her.
Before she could keep walking, though, Daryl put his hand on her back and pushed her lightly towards his tent. She furrowed her eyebrows with confusion, looking up at him. He just nodded his head towards the tent, so Rosie went in. She sat down on the ground, her legs crossed.
After zipping the tent up behind him, Daryl kneeled down in front of Rosie. She was looking down at the backs of her hands. Daryl started inspecting her hands, too.
"Hurt?" he asked. Rosie shrugged.
Daryl turned and pulled a shirt out of a duffel bag. "Shirt was Merle's," he said. He tore off a strip of fabric from the bottom of the shirt, and then ripped that in two. "Lemme see yer hands," he said.
Rosie was hesitant at first, but slowly held her hands out to him. She nearly flinched when he gently grabbed them, but didn't pull away. Daryl wrapped the torn fabric around her knuckles before tying it off and letting go.
They sat in silence for a few seconds and Daryl looked at Rosie's angry, yet sad expression. He sighed. "Punchin' shit ain't gonna make ya feel better, ya know," he said.
"I know," Rosie answered quietly, keeping her head down. She continuously opened and closed her hands. They were sore.
"Then why the hell do ya do it?" Daryl asked. He wasn't mad, but he was being stern, anyway.
Rosie just shrugged. He kept staring at her expectantly, pressuring her into saying something. "Don't know what else to do," she said. "Sorry."
"Ain't your fault. Not like yer dad taught ya any better," Daryl grumbled.
"When he did it, it scared me. And now I'm prob'ly scarin' other people," Rosie said solemnly. She bit down on her lip, trying not to cry. Why did she always feel like crying lately? "I'm bein' jus' like him," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Rosie," Daryl said.
She looked up at him questioningly. Daryl only wanted to make sure she was really listening to him.
"What your dad did to ya, I know I told ya it was wrong a'ready, an' I hope ya get that. But you know it ain't your fault, right?" he asked. She didn't say anything. "My dad did bad shit, too. And it wasn't my fault. And he ain't here no more, so it won't happen again. Just like your dad."
Rosie was biting down on her lip harder now, her face scrunched up as she tried desperately not to cry.
"No one's gonna beat ya. I keep tellin' ya that an' it's like ya think I'm fuckin' lyin' or some shit. These people, they ain't ever gonna beat ya," Daryl assured her.
Rosie thought about her dad, and how she killed him in the woods. She thought about hitting Carl. She thought about how she killed Sophia. She thought about how her dad acted when he was mad. She thought about how she acted when she was mad, and she shook her head.
"I ain't scared of bein' beat no more," she said.
"Good. Ya don't have to be," Daryl told her.
She nodded and looked down at her hands.
I'm scared of somethin' else now.
Daryl turned to where he got the shirt from before and tossed a sleeping bag over to Rosie. It landed next to her and she stared at it, unsure of what to do. Then Daryl tapped her shoulder, and she looked up again to see him holding her backpack.
"Hershel doesn't want us in the house no more. You can stay with me. Got an extra sleeping bag now, anyway," he said, gesturing towards the sleeping bag. It was Merle's. Rosie had slept on it before, back at the Atlanta camp, before she ran away.
Rosie rolled out the sleeping bag and sat on top of it. She dug around in her bag for her velociraptor toy for a moment, but came up empty.
"It's in the front pocket," Daryl suddenly spoke. Rosie furrowed her eyebrows. How does he know what I'm looking for? But sure enough, she opened the front pocket and in it was her small, plastic velociraptor toy. "Ya left it on the coffee table. Threw it in there when I grabbed the bag."
"Oh," Rosie said, lying down on top of the sleeping bag. "Thanks."
"Yeah," Daryl muttered as he lied down in his own sleeping bag. "Go to sleep."
"Ok."