"Ro, get up. You're gonna miss breakfast," Daryl said, as he picked a stray dinosaur toy up off of the floor and tossed it onto the top bunk, the dinosaur landing on the girl's back. Rosie turned her head away and buried her face in her pillow.
"'M not hungry, 'm tired," she mumbled out, the pillow muffling her words.
"You were s'posed to be out helpin' Rick and Carl in the field an hour ago," Daryl told her, leaning his arms on the bar around the top bunk. Rosie pulled the blanket over her head, and Daryl pulled it back down. "Get up," he said again before leaving the cell.
Reluctantly, Rosie huffed and dragged herself out of bed. She took a moment to change into her favorite shirt- the crocodile one from the department store in Atlanta- and slide on her red cowboy boots. After a few months of being safe inside the prison, she stopped leaving her shoes on when going to bed. She no longer felt the need to, not seeing any reason they'd have to make a quick getaway in the middle of the night.
Once she was dressed, Rosie left her cell and made her way out of the cell block, heading to where Carol was cooking breakfast. As she walked along the pavement, a brown-haired boy that Rosie had learned was named Ian, smiled and waved at her, which he did every single time he saw her. Rosie waved back a little, but didn't smile. She barely knew the boy, she didn't get why he always wanted to talk to her.
As Rosie approached the area where everyone was gathered around eating breakfast, she heard plenty of the new-ish people letting out a chorus of "Morning, Daryl"'s, which had strangely become a common occurrence.
When Rosie got up to the counter, Patrick was behind it rather than Carol. Patrick was an older boy who Carl had become friends with. Rosie liked to build LEGOs with him, but he was kind of weird. She didn't mind, though.
"Uh, Mr. Dixon," she heard Patrick saying to Daryl. Rosie scrunched up her face and leaned against the counter, listening in. The name Mr. Dixon almost made her want to laugh. "I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir. And I'd be honored to shake your hand."
Patrick held his hand out to Daryl and Rosie looked back and forth between the two with a funny look on her face. After a moment, Daryl licked his fingers clean and shook Patrick's hand. Rosie cringed, but Patrick seemed to enjoy the handshake whether or not Daryl's spit was now on his hand.
Rosie looked at Daryl, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she tried to suppress her laughter, and Daryl just rolled his eyes at her. "I'm goin' on a run today. Listen to Rick," Daryl told her. Rosie nodded and Daryl walked off with Carol.
"Hey, Rosie," Patrick said once he turned back around, a smile on his face.
"Hi," Rosie replied, waiting for him to place food on her plate. Patrick loaded up a plate for her and smiled again as he handed it over. He had a way of going about things that bewildered Rosie. He just seemed so happy to do anything and everything. It was like every day was the best day of his life. Rosie didn't understand it, but she wished she could be like that sometimes. "Thanks," she said before walking off towards one of the tables.
Once Rosie sat down, she was immediately joined by Ian. "Hi, Rosie," the boy said, a smile on his face.
"Hi," Rosie said again. She picked up a piece of her food and dropped it into her mouth.
"I saw your chalk drawing on the wall. It's pretty good," Ian said, tapping his hands on the table.
Rosie had gotten better at drawing in her months spent at the prison. Ever since the people from Woodbury joined them, she wasn't allowed to go out on runs or to go hunting with Daryl anymore. She wasn't allowed to leave the prison and she wasn't allowed to use any guns. This frustrated her endlessly, but no one listened when she tried to argue, so she told herself to swallow it and move on. Not having much else to do, Rosie spent a lot of her time drawing, so she had improved. She wasn't exactly great at it, but her stegosauruses no longer looked like spiky dogs.
"Thanks," Rosie said. She waited for him to go away and for the conversation to be over, but that didn't happen. It was weird. She didn't know what to say. She barely knew Ian, but he seemed like he constantly wanted to be around her. She didn't understand.
"Hey, did you know that I turned eleven?" Ian asked, excitement in his eyes.
"Uh, no. Happy birthday," Rosie said.
"How long until your birthday?" Ian asked, carrying out the conversation.
"I don't know. It has to get cold out again first," Rosie said, shrugging her shoulders a little. Carl had turned thirteen in the heat of the summer, and fall was just around the corner. After winter, it would be spring, and Rosie would finally turn eleven.
"You should tell me when it's coming up, so I can give you a present," Ian said. Rosie furrowed her eyebrows a little, confused. First of all, where would he get a present? And second of all, why did he want to give her a present? She didn't give him a present for his birthday. She didn't even have the thought to.
"Ok," Rosie said. She took one last bite of her food before standing up. "Bye," she said, walking away to put her dish in the pile of dirty ones.
With that, Rosie went off to find Lizzie. Lizzie was her new friend. It was very exciting for Rosie because she had never had a real friend like that before. Lizzie even liked to play rock, paper, scissors with her, and she never got tired of it like Carl did. Rosie also liked Lizzie's little sister, Mika. Mika was very nice, but Rosie couldn't be sure if they were friends because Mika had never told her. Lizzie said out loud that Rosie was her friend, so that was how Rosie knew that she really had a friend.
After looking around for awhile, Rosie found Lizzie out by the fences with Mika and two other kids that Rosie didn't know very well. The kids were all waving out at the walkers, which confused Rosie.
"What're you doin'?" Rosie asked, coming up next to Mika.
"Look, that one has a name tag. See?" Lizzie said, pointing out at one of the walkers that was clawing at the fence. "His name's Nick. So we're giving them names."
"Why?" Rosie asked curiously as she kicked her right foot into the side of her left one.
"For fun," Lizzie answered.
"Oh," Rosie said, still not understanding. How could giving dead people names be fun? "That's a walker. I don't think-" she began to say, but was cut off.
"Hi, Nick!" Lizzie called out to the walker, a large smile on her face. Rosie frowned, looking between Lizzie and the walker.
"You're naming them?" Carl's voice asked from behind the kids, making them all turn around to look at him, standing there with Patrick. Carl had grown a little bit taller ever since he turned thirteen. He also didn't like to play as much as he used to. He spent most of his time with Patrick, and if he did play anything, it was soccer.
"Well, one of them has a name tag, so we thought all of them should," Mika explained as the other kids walked closer to Carl. Rosie stayed behind them, leaning back against the fence.
"They had names when they were alive. They're dead now," Carl said, messing around with the soccer ball in his hands.
"No, they're not. They're just different," Lizzie argued. Rosie furrowed her eyebrows a little. Different. That's what Daryl had said she was. The walkers were dead. The walkers weren't different, they were dead. Why did Lizzie think otherwise? Rosie had known that Lizzie saw the walkers a little differently- it wasn't hard to notice- but she never would have guessed that Lizzie still thought the walkers were alive.
"What the hell are you talking about? Ok, they don't talk. They don't think. They eat people. They kill people," Carl said, his tone tense, making it obvious that he was annoyed.
"People kill people. They still have names," Lizzie reasoned, rolling her eyes at Carl.
"It's not the same," Rosie said quietly from behind her.
"Yeah. Have you seen what happens? Have you seen someone die like that?" Carl asked, gesturing over to the walkers behind the fence.
Lizzie's and Mika's faces hardened. "Yeah, I have," Lizzie said.
"They're not people and they're not pets. Don't name them," Carl said.
None of the kids said anything for a moment, until Lizzie sighed. "We're supposed to go read. Come on," she said before walking off.
Mika stayed behind for a moment and looked to Patrick. "You coming to story time tonight?" she asked. Story time was when Carol read a story to all of the kids. Rosie had gone once, but she got antsy and bored, so she left early and stopped going. Carl never went. He thought it was for little kids.
Patrick looked at Carl and then back at Mika, an awkward look on his face. "Uh, yeah," he said.
"See ya then," Mika said with a smile before walking off after the others.
Rosie was about to go with her, but Carl stopped her. "Why are you hanging out with Lizzie?" he asked her, his eyebrows furrowed.
"She's my friend," Rosie said, looking down at her feet.
"She's messed up," Carl said, looking off in the direction Lizzie had left in.
"No, she's not. She just doesn't understand," Rosie argued. She didn't like Carl talking about her new friend like that. Rosie frowned and walked off, feeling frustrated and unsure of what to do. She just wished that Lizzie could understand.
•
The sun had gone down and Rosie was up in her cell, drawing in a sketchbook Michonne had brought back for her. Michonne was constantly leaving, still searching for the Governor. The fact that they still hadn't found him- that he was still alive somewhere- made Rosie feel anxious, but she was less worried about it than she used to be. It had been months. Months and he hadn't come. Daryl had even stopped looking. Michonne wasn't giving up, though.
"Hey," Carl said from Rosie's doorway. She glanced over at him.
"Hi," she said, going back to drawing. Carl came further into the cell and sat down on the bottom bunk, while Rosie was sat at her desk.
"Did you know Carol's teaching the kids to use weapons at story time?" Carl asked. Rosie's head snapped towards him, as he now had her full attention. The look on her face made it obvious that she did not, in fact, know. "I went in there today. She was teaching them how to use knives," Carl said.
"Did ya tell your dad?" Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows a little.
"Not yet. I think I should, though," Carl said, shrugging his shoulders a little.
"Do ya think he's gonna make her stop?" Rosie asked.
"I don't know," Carl answered.
"I think it's good. They gotta know how," Rosie said. She turned back to her desk and continued on with her drawing. It was a diplodocus, which was her favorite herbivorous dinosaur. Carl came up behind her, looking over her shoulder to see what she was doing. He still wanted to talk about what Carol was doing.
"But my dad doesn't want them to. And I don't wanna lie to him," Carl said, sighing. Rosie shooed him over to the other side of her, due to his hat blocking her light. "I think I should tell him."
"Not sayin' anythin' ain't the same thing as lyin'," Rosie said, raising her eyebrows at him.
"I'm gonna tell him. But I'm also gonna tell him that I think he should let her. Because, you're right, they should know how. He just doesn't want to think that they do, because they're kids," Carl said, more to himself than to Rosie. He nodded firmly, assuring himself of the idea.
"Hey, Rosie," a different voice said from the doorway to her cell. Rosie knew the voice and she internally groaned, turning to see Ian standing there.
"Hi, Ian," she said, looking back down at her drawing.
Carl raised his eyebrows at Rosie, smiling a little, but she didn't understand why. "See you later, Ro," Carl said before passing by Ian and leaving the cell. Rosie secretly hoped that Ian would follow, but he didn't. Instead, he came walking into the cell like he owned the place. Rosie didn't get why Ian kept following her around. It had gotten worse, the more time went on. She didn't mind him at first, but now it was just getting annoying. Lizzie insisted that he was just being nice, but Rosie couldn't help getting sick of it.
"What are you drawing?" Ian asked. He placed his hand on Rosie's desk and leaned over her shoulder, blocking her light and invading her space. Rosie scooted her chair away a little, not answering his question. "Is that a... brachiosaurus?" Ian guessed.
"No, it's a diplodocus," Rosie corrected him, her voice bland. "That's why it's standing with its neck out horizontal. Brachiosauruses stand up taller."
"They look the same," Ian said. He lifted himself up to sit on the edge of Rosie's desk, accidentally knocking over her Parasaurolophus and a few other things in the process. Rosie tensed, practically dying on the inside.
"They don't look the same. They're different," she said, praying that Carl would come back. "Please get off."
"You don't have any other chairs," Ian reasoned, still not moving.
"Get off," Rosie said, not bothering to be nice this time.
Ian slid off the side of her desk, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry," he said. He then leaned up against the wall, over top of some of Rosie's drawings that she'd hung up. It was then that Rosie decided that she absolutely hated having Ian in her cell. "So, what are you doing tomorrow?" Ian asked.
"Probably the same thing I did today," Rosie said with a monotonous quality to her voice. She glared over at Ian, not even trying to be nice to him anymore. Carol was the one to tell her to be nice to the other kids, but it was very difficult when one of them would come into her room and touch all of her things and ask her stupid questions.
"Why do you have a container full of bugs?" Ian asked. He was looking at a jar full of cicada shells that was placed on top of the filing cabinet, which Rosie used to store her clothes and any other things that needed storing. He picked up the jar, holding it in front of his face. "Are they alive?"
"Because I like finding them," Rosie said. She snatched the jar out of Ian's hand and placed it back in its spot on top of the filing cabinet. "And no. They're just shells. Cicadas molt their skin so they can keep growing."
"Cicadas?" Ian asked, scrunching his face up. He picked up the jar again, but Rosie was very quick to snatch it from his hands and put it back.
"Cicadas. They're the bugs that make the loud buzzing noise in the summer," Rosie said. She really just wanted him to leave, so then she could shut the curtain in her cell doorway and make everyone think she was already asleep, so maybe they would leave her alone.
"Why do you keep them?"
"Because I like finding them," Rosie repeated herself, feeling her face burn with frustration.
"They're gross," Ian said. Rosie really, really wanted to punch him. But she didn't. She'd already done that twice to Carl, and both times she got in trouble. So instead of punching him, she bit down onto her bottom lip and kicked her right foot against her left one as she waited for him to finally leave. He just kept looking around her room, though. She hated it.
"Ro, you eat dinner?" Daryl's voice rang out as he climbed up the stairs towards Rosie's cell. Rosie instantly felt relief wash over her. Ian froze and turned towards the entrance to the cell as Daryl appeared in it. Daryl glanced over at Rosie, and just by that one glance, he could tell that she was moments away from exploding. It was written all over her face. She was pretty easy to read, even when she was trying hard not to be.
"Um, bye, Rosie. Bye, Mr. Dixon," Ian said, quickly leaving the cell. For whatever reason, much to Rosie's luck, Ian was scared of Daryl. Rosie didn't get why, but she was incredibly grateful for it anyway. She let out a sigh of relief and quickly turned to fix all of the things Ian had knocked over on her desk.
"You a'right?" Daryl asked the girl, although part of him wanted to laugh at the whole situation.
"He is very, very annoyin' and he kept touchin' all my stuff and askin' stupid questions and sayin' stupid things and he keeps followin' me around and I don't know why," Rosie ranted, her words coming out extremely quickly.
Daryl scoffed out a laugh as he sat down on the bottom bunk. "Ya could've jus' told him to quit it," he said.
"Carol said I had to be nice," Rosie huffed as she sat back down in her chair and continued on drawing her diplodocus.
"You can tell 'im to stop touchin' your shit without bein' mean about it," Daryl told her. Rosie didn't say anything in response, not wanting to talk about it anymore. It just made her angry. She wished that she was Daryl, so that Ian would run away from her rather than follow her around. "You eat?" Daryl asked, changing the subject, which Rosie was very grateful for.
"Yeah," she said, not looking up from her drawing. "Did you?"
"Not yet. Got back from the run and had to talk to Beth," Daryl said. He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "Zack went with. Didn't make it."
"That's her boyfriend, right?" Rosie asked, glancing back at him. Daryl hummed out a yes. Rosie didn't know why Beth liked Zack. He followed her around, just like Ian did to Rosie. But apparently Beth liked when Zack did that, somehow. Rosie didn't get it. "That's sad," Rosie said, unsure of what else to say. Sure, she was sad that another person had died, but she barely knew the guy.
"Yeah," Daryl replied. Rosie glanced back at him again and saw him laying back on the bottom bunk with one hand behind his head and the other rubbing his face, his feet planted on the floor as the rest of his legs hung off the side of the bed at the knees.
From that, Rosie could tell that he was sad. She had learned over the past year that Daryl and a lot of other people rubbed their faces and eyes when they were sad. She got up off of her chair and sat on the bed next to him. "Um," she took a moment to decide what to say- she wasn't very good at this, "are you ok?"
Daryl moved his hand from his eyes, glancing up at her for a moment. "Just sick a' losin' people," he said. "It ain't easy, no matter how many times it happens."
"Yeah. I'm sick of it, too," Rosie empathized. She laid back on the bed the same way Daryl did, except she held her hands over her stomach rather than around her head. Rosie wasn't very good at making most people feel better, but for some reason, her attempts always seemed to work on Daryl.
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I'm watching TWD with my little sister and she got to the episode where Glenn "dies" by that dumpster a few days ago and she's been moping about it ever since 💀 Wait until she meets Negan 😈