Rosie had been procrastinating. Usually, she liked to get things over with. When her father told her to do something, it was best to do it right away, and if she was going to get a beating, she wanted it done right away, because then there wouldn't be the dread- and if you tried to avoid it, it was only worse. But she didn't want to go into this room and talk to the woman named Deanna. She wanted to stay right where she was. Maybe even just leave. But Glenn walked out of Deanna's office, and there was no one left except for Rosie.
"Is that everyone?" Deanna asked, smiling at the group. Rosie shrunk down in her seat, thinking that she could go unnoticed. She went unnoticed a lot before, and this place was a lot like everything before, so maybe she could get away with it.
"There's one more," the man that was named Nicholas said, gesturing over to where Rosie was sitting. Rosie decided that she really did not like this guy, and she wanted to flip him off, but she didn't because that would probably earn her a stern look from either Daryl or Maggie.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you over there," Deanna said, smiling as if it would make Rosie feel any better. That was the whole point, Rosie thought. "And your name is..." Deanna said, wanting Rosie to answer. She wouldn't.
"Rosie," Aaron answered for her. She glared at him now.
"Well, Rosie, you can come with me," Deanna said, turning to go back into her office. Rosie didn't follow. Deanna turned back to her, her eyebrows pinched together. "You don't need to be nervous. It'll only be a few minutes," she said.
"I don't wanna," Rosie muttered, pulling on the sleeves of Fraser's green hoodie, which she was still wearing despite the heat.
"You have to," Nicholas chimed in, his voice stern and irritated. Rosie really didn't like him.
"I just have a few questions to ask," Deanna said after she took a moment to give Nicholas a pointed look. Rosie looked up at Daryl, who was standing next to the chair she was sitting on. He nodded his head towards Deanna, mumbling a quiet go on. Very hesitantly and reluctantly, Rosie dragged herself up off of the chair and into Deanna's office. She lingered by the doorway while Deanna sat down on a couch. "You can take a seat," Deanna said, gesturing towards the big chair across from her. Rosie did so. "Do you mind if I record our chat, Rosie?"
"Why?" Rosie asked, eyeing the camera warily.
"We like to keep a record of these interviews, so we can look back on them," Deanna said, giving a warm smile that didn't make Rosie feel very warm. "Do you mind?"
"I don't care," Rosie mumbled, shrugging a little in the big chair.
"Great," Deanna said. She took a moment to get herself situated, turning on the camera and setting a clipboard on the table in front of her. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on top of her knees. "So, Rosie... what?" Deanna asked.
"Huh?" Rosie asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
"Your full name," Deanna elaborated. "Originally, I was under the impression that your last name was Dixon, but Daryl told me otherwise. I was hoping you'd be a bit more cooperative than he was, though. Are you willing to tell me your last name?"
"Um, not Dixon," Rosie said. She started picking at a loose string on the chair she was sitting in. She didn't want to tell this woman her last name. She didn't like it very much anymore, but she supposed she had to. "Rosie Banks," she said.
"What happened to your father, then? If it isn't too sore of a subject," Diana said. She picked her clipboard up and crossed something out before writing something else.
"He got eaten," Rosie said, seemingly emotionlessly. She didn't mention that Merle was the reason he got eaten, because then she'd have to get into why Merle did that. She didn't want to tell this random lady about that.
"Were you on your own for awhile after that, or were you already with the group?" Deanna asked, putting the clipboard back down. Rosie guessed that she was probably writing down her full name.
"Was already with the group," Rosie answered.
"And when did you become close with Daryl?" Deanna asked. Rosie didn't understand why that mattered. She didn't know the answer, either, so she just shrugged. "What's your relationship like with him?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" Deanna repeated. Rosie just shrugged. She didn't know what to say. She just wanted this to be over with. "Is he sort of like a father figure to you, do you think?" Deanna asked, trying to make it easier for Rosie. She just shrugged again, though. "Seeing as you don't have any parents with you, would you prefer to stay with your group or for me to find a different-"
"I wanna stay with them," Rosie said quickly, and began bouncing her leg up and down. "How much longer 'til I can go?" she asked.
"I just have a few more questions," Deanna said. Rosie internally groaned. She hated questions. Especially Deanna's questions. She just wanted to go. "How old are you?" Deanna asked.
"Eleven, I think," Rosie replied.
"It must've been hard, losing your father at such a young age. I'm sorry. What about your mother?" was Deanna's next question.
"Momma left when I was a baby."
"So you were never close with her?" Deanna asked. Rosie shook her head. She didn't remember her mother, honestly. The only things she remembered about her were the few things Fraser told her about. "What grade were you last in?"
Rosie's stomach churned. "Am I gonna have to go to school?" she asked, her face scrunching up to show her distaste.
Deanna laughed a little. "It's not the same as how your old school used to be. It's in a garage, and the younger kids only go during the first half of the day. It's not that bad, I assure you. Now, what grade was it?"
"Fourth, but only for, like, two weeks," Rosie said. She chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment. "Am I done yet?"
"Sure," Deanna said with a sigh. As soon as she said the word, Rosie shot up out of her seat and went towards the door. Deanna had more questions- Rosie could tell, but she didn't care. Unfortunately, Deanna followed her out the door. Rosie was surprised to see that no one else was left in the house. Her stomach started to hurt. Where'd they go? "They're probably all just outside. Nicholas was antsy to have you all turn in your guns," Deanna said, passing Rosie and walking out the front door. Rosie followed after her until they were out on the porch. Deanna was right, they were all putting their guns on a big cart. "They're still your guns. You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall. But inside here, we store them for safety," Deanna said as Rosie hurried down the stairs.
Rosie went straight to Daryl, standing slightly behind him so that she felt hidden, but could still see what everyone was doing. Carol was in front of the cart, clumsily taking her gun off of her shoulder and smiling awkwardly. It was weird. Very unlike Carol. Rosie tugged on Daryl's vest to get his attention.
"They're takin' our stuff," Rosie said, her eyebrows pinched together. She was relieved to see that Daryl still had his crossbow, but she was not so relieved to see that he no longer had a gun in the holster on his belt. Rosie's gun was still tucked into the back of her waistband, because she didn't have a holster.
"You give 'em yours?" Daryl asked, nodding towards her back as he knew that's where her gun was. Rosie shook her head adamantly.
"They aren't takin' my-"
"Do you have any guns on you, sweetheart?" a woman with brown hair and glasses spoke, suddenly appearing a few feet away from Rosie and Daryl with the big cart full of guns. Rosie glared at her, stepping further behind Daryl. The woman looked like she could've been a secretary at Rosie's school. Rosie didn't like the secretaries at her school. They gave her tardy slips a lot, and were often the ones to call her dad.
"Don't call me sweetheart," Rosie spat, furrowing her eyebrows at the woman. As the woman started apologizing, Rosie felt the back of her shirt lift a little and then felt the weight of her gun disappearing. She spun around and grabbed onto Daryl's arm, trying to pull it away from the cart. "Hey! They can't take it!" Rosie shouted. She pulled on his arm as best as she could, but Daryl was still easily able to put the gun on the pile. Rosie hit his arm, trying to get him to stop, but he didn't. "You can't-!"
"Don't fuckin' hit me," Daryl scolded. Rosie growled in frustration and brought her hands up to her face, pushing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Look at me," Daryl said, pulling her arms back down. Rosie gave him her best glare. "Ya don't need it in here."
"You don't know that," Rosie argued.
"These people been in here without needin' guns this whole time. Quit arguin'," Daryl told her. He wasn't completely convinced that this place was safe yet, either. But either way, it wasn't something Rosie needed to be worrying about. She deserved to be able to live like a normal kid, just the same as Carl, Judith, and Ian did. And in order for her to even get that chance, she needed to give up the gun.
Rosie huffed and crossed her arms, obeying but making it obvious that she wasn't happy about it. "Fine."
•
"What the hell?" Rosie accidentally let out when she walked up the steps of their new house- yes, they had a house now. Rick was standing there, but his beard was gone and his hair was freshly cut. He looked like the pussy ass cop all over again.
Rick chuckled, holding Judith in his arms. "Why don't you go take your turn in the shower. Bathroom's open," he suggested, nodding into the house. Rosie hadn't even stepped foot inside yet. She was all excited for this place, but she'd been here for a few hours now and hadn't even had a single sip of soda. She didn't like this place anymore.
"I don't need a shower," Rosie argued.
"Oh, you do," Carl said half-jokingly with a humorous smile on his face. Rosie rolled her eyes, because Daryl wasn't looking. He was too busy gutting the possum he killed.
"Daryl didn't take one," Rosie pointed out. Daryl looked up upon hearing his name and rolled his eyes, because he was an adult, which meant that he could roll his eyes whenever he wanted, apparently.
"Listen to Rick," Daryl said, unfortunately agreeing with Rick and Carl. Rosie huffed out a breath of annoyance. "Your bag's inside. Got them clean clothes from your house, 'member?" he reminded her, trying to make it so she would be a little less pissy about the whole thing. It didn't work.
Without another word, Rosie walked into the house with an annoyed look on her face. The door opened up into a big, fancy kitchen with marble counter tops and even an island. Rosie refused to show her amazement- out of spite, of course- and picked her backpack up off of the ground before going to find the bathroom. This house was bigger than any house she'd ever seen in her entire life.
Rosie found the bathroom in a long hallway, behind a white door. She twisted the handle and pulled the door open, and when she walked inside, she was baffled to see just how large this bathroom was. There was a big mirror and sink, and a bathtub that was separate from the shower. The shower itself, though, was weird. It was like the ones at the CDC; the shower was tall and skinny with a glass door. Rosie didn't get it. Why would they want the shower to be see-through? Why wasn't there a shower curtain or something?
After a moment of admiring the huge bathroom that was bigger than her old bedroom, Rosie locked the bathroom door and set her backpack on the closed toilet seat. She unzipped it and starting digging through the contents of the bag. She had one fresh pair of blue jeans from home, a clean pair of socks and underwear, and her old baseball jersey and cap. Rosie decided that she wouldn't wear the cap today, but she would wear the jersey. So she set out the pile of clothes on the back of the toilet and began undressing herself.
The big mirror was alluring. Rosie stepped towards it and, for the first time in a long time, looked in the mirror. Her blonde hair was much longer than it used to be, and it was very, very knotty. There were big, dark circles underneath her eyes that made her frown. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't sleep, why did she have to deal with the consequences? Her body was bony. Every scar on her collarbones was at least two years old now and had faded a bit. Some were still more prominent than others. Her collarbones themselves stuck out a bit, just like her ribs did. She looked sick. But that's what happens when you can't sleep and are barely able to eat or drink anything. You look sick. Her skin was dirty. She couldn't tell if it was tan or filth- only time would tell.
Slowly and hesitantly, Rosie stepped towards the shower, pulling the glass door open. The bottom of the shower was tile, and particularly cold. Much to Rosie's surprise, there wasn't a faucet low down to the ground that she had to pull a nob up on to make the shower work, so when she turned the water on, it immediately rained down on top of her. She shrieked, jumping away from the stream of water. The water was cold. After a moment, Rosie poked her foot back in the stream of water, and this time, it was much, much warmer. So warm, in fact, that it burned. Making sure to avoid the water, Rosie reached for the nob again, twisting it to the right. After another moment, Rosie stuck her toe in again. Now the water was perfectly warm, and she could get her shower over and done with.
Although she didn't want to shower at first, Rosie actually enjoyed it. The water was nice and it felt good to get all of the dirt washed off of her. She still looked more tan than she used to, but now it was only from the effects of the sun rather than left over dirt and grime from their time on the road.
Rosie put on her underwear and socks on first, then her jeans, then her jersey, and then Fraser's green hoodie on top. It felt good having clean clothes- and especially clean socks and underwear. Even at the prison, clothes weren't all particularly clean. They did the best they could to do laundry and keep themselves at least somewhat clean, but it was nothing like this. This was clean like before. This was a shower. A real, working shower in a real, working house with real, working lights.
After she was done getting dressed, Rosie put her backpack on her shoulders and put her mean face back on, just so no one would know that she actually secretly enjoyed the shower.
"Feel better now?" Carol asked when Rosie left the bathroom and walked into the living room.
"No," Rosie lied.
•
"What if someone comes in here when we're sleepin' and we don't got our guns and... and bad things happen," Rosie voiced her worries. She was sitting between Daryl and Ian near the windows. Ian was already half asleep, though. His head was tilted back and it looked very uncomfortable. Rosie had no idea how he could sleep so easily.
"Then we all got knives and I have my crossbow," Daryl said, exhausted. He still hadn't showered. Rosie could tell, because he was the only one who still looked and smelled like he rolled around in dirt. "We're all in here. Ain't gonna let nothin' bad happen to ya, ok?" Daryl said. Rosie didn't say ok back, she only sighed.
After a few more moments, she thought of a new question. "Does this place mean I gotta start watching my language again?" she asked. Watching her language was something that became a rule back at the prison, but the rule was abandoned when the entire prison was destroyed by the Governor.
"Yes," Maggie chimed from her spot next to Glenn. Again, Rosie sighed.
Then there was a knock on the door. Rosie tensed and everyone's heads shot in the direction of the door. Rick went to answer it, and Deanna was on the other side of the door. Rosie huffed. She didn't like Deanna.
"Rick, I-" Deanna paused mid-sentence when she saw Rick's face. "Wow," she said, making Rick grumble and look away. "I didn't know what was under there. Listen, I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling," Deanna said. She looked around the room, her eyes scanning over each and every person in the room.
They had been given two separate houses, but Rick decided that, for the first few nights at least, they'd all be staying together. Rosie liked that idea best. She didn't want to be separated from anyone.
"Oh, my," Deanna said, her eyebrows raising. A small smile grew on her face. "Staying together. Smart."
"No one said we couldn't," Rick replied, still holding the door open.
"You said you're a family. That's what you said," Deanna said, her fond smile growing wider. Rosie pulled her knees up closer to her chest, waiting for Deanna to leave. "Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?" Deanna asked. No one said anything.
"Everybody said you gave them jobs," Rick said, gesturing towards the group. Jobs? Rosie didn't know about any jobs.
"Mhm. Yeah. Part of this place. Looks like the communists won after all," Deanna said with a laugh. Rosie didn't get the joke, but she probably wouldn't have laughed even if she did.
"Well, you didn't give me one," Rick said, referring to the jobs that Deanna apparently gave everyone. Rosie didn't get one, either, but she assumed that it was probably because she was a kid. Lots of adults thought that kids were incapable of doing important jobs, but Rosie knew that that wasn't true.
"I have," Deanna said, smiling as she looked at Rick. "I just haven't told you yet. Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha. And I'm just trying to figure Mr. Dixon out, but I will."
At least Daryl didn't have a job yet. He'd be around. Rosie wouldn't be left in this house practically weaponless and all alone. Not yet, at least. Anyway, Rosie thought it was weird when people called Daryl Mr. Dixon. He didn't seem like a guy who was called Mr. Dixon. He was just Daryl.
"You look good," Deanna said to Rick one last time before finally leaving and letting them be. The door closed with a long creak, and Rosie knew that everyone would be going to sleep soon. Maybe not everyone. Rosie definitely wouldn't be. How could she sleep when they barely even knew these people? They were obviously liars, because she was promised soda and had yet to take a sip of soda. Even if they hadn't lied about the soda, she wouldn't trust them.
When Rosie was told to lay down and go to sleep, she did one of those two things. She laid down, but she definitely didn't go to sleep. Even with the knowledge that Daryl was only a few feet away with his crossbow at his side- which would usually ease Rosie's worries- she couldn't sleep. She stayed still, pretending she was asleep, but she never drifted off.