The front door opened up and out walked Carol. Rosie's face scrunched up. "What the hell are you wearin'?" she asked, staring at Carol. Carol was wearing a white shirt tucked into a fancy pair of pants, with a blue sweater. Rosie could see that, obviously, but what she really should've asked was why.
"Time to punch the clock and make the casseroles," Carol said in a weird voice, raising her eyebrows as she adjusted her sweater.
"What?" Daryl murmured, finally looking up from his crossbow, which he was fiddling with. Rosie didn't ever know what was wrong with it, but he always seemed to be fixing it, somehow. Same with his bolts.
"Make dinner for the older people- moms who need a break, people who can't cook. Get to meet a lot of the neighbors that way," Carol explained, smiling. She had been acting weird ever since they got there, but this was just wrong. Daryl scoffed, raising his eyebrows for a moment before mumbling out a alright....
"You want to meet the neighbors?" Rosie asked, her eyebrows pinched together.
"Yes. And you should, too. You should be out playing with the other kids," Carol said, raising her eyebrows at Rosie. This time, both Daryl and Rosie scoffed. Carol rolled her eyes and directed her attention towards Daryl. "Have you taken a shower yet?" she asked Daryl.
"Mhm," Daryl hummed, even though they all knew that that wasn't true. He was still filthy- you could see it all over him.
Carol narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, as if to say, really? "Take a shower. I'm gonna wash that vest," she said, and started down the porch stairs. "We need to keep up appearances, even you."
"Hey, I ain't startin' now," Daryl said.
"I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep," Carol said. She stopped at the sidewalk and turned to look at Rosie again. "Ian's at that boy's house. You should go play with them," she said. Rosie narrowed her eyes at Carol, but Carol smiled and walked off with a pep in her step.
"You look ridiculous," Daryl called out to her, but Carol gave no reply and continued on walking. Once Carol was out of sight, Daryl leaned back against the railing, just like he had been before. "She's right, you should go out there. Ain't gonna get used to it if ya don't try," he said.
"Says you," Rosie muttered, now narrowing her eyes at Daryl. "You still smell bad. I don't."
"Ok. So, I shower, you go hang out with those other kids. How 'bout that?" Daryl suggested, sliding off of the railing and leaning his crossbow against it.
Rosie glared up at him, contemplating for a moment. Was it really worth it? Spending hours with Sam and Ian, probably doing nothing interesting at all, just so Daryl would take a shower and stop smelling bad? But, honestly, how could anyone be sure that she was really with Sam and Ian? All she had to do was stay out of the house, and Daryl would just assume she was with Sam and Ian. "Fine," Rosie said, crossing her arms. "But you actually gotta shower. Ya look like you rubbed dirt all over yourself... and ya smell like it, too."
"I will. But you better not come back here with somethin' you stole. Hear me?" Daryl replied.
"Fine," Rosie said again. She got up and and marched down the porch steps with her arms crossed. Knowing that Daryl could see which direction she was going in, Rosie headed towards the Andersons' house. She didn't have any plans of actually going inside and hanging out with Sam or Ian, but at least Daryl would think that that was where she was headed.
In reality, Rosie didn't have a plan of where to go. She thought maybe she'd just wander around, but, then again, Daryl might see her. So she supposed that she'd have to stay off the main streets. She felt like a criminal, sneaking around like this. It was weird. She never thought that she'd be sneaking around like this again. She thought that she'd just be fighting to stay alive for the rest of her life, but here she was, sneaking around the neighborhood, like everything was normal. It was terrible. How could they treat everything like it's all been normal this whole time? Nothing was normal. Dead people were walking around outside of these walls, and they were just supposed to pretend that they weren't? It was bullshit.
Either way, this place wasn't normal for Rosie. Maybe it was what normal was for Ian or for Carl; living in a nice house with a big family, starting school soon, and hanging out with friends. But that wasn't anything like what normal was for Rosie. This was the type of stuff that she used to imagine. She'd sit around imagining a big family in a big house with a dog, running around and playing. Her and Fraser with their mom, and even their dad. But in this imaginary world that she thought up, her dad was good, and they were always normal.
Fraser's dead. Daddy's dead. Momma's gone, and she's probably dead, too.
Everyone's dead and they're acting like it's always been this way.
It frustrated Rosie endlessly. She didn't understand how they could switch to this so easily. And Daryl, too. He was only adding to her frustration. He told her to call him out when he was being an asshole, and now he was being an asshole and he claimed that he wasn't being an asshole. In addition to his assholery, he was now being a hypocrite, too. How could he expect Rosie do adjust to this "normal" life when he couldn't even do it himself? It wasn't fair.
Thinking about these things as she walked down the road only made Rosie feel angrier. Her face burned, and suddenly she wanted to go out punching trees all over again. She wanted to hit something, or break something. She wanted her knuckles to bleed, to sting. She wanted to get out of this place.
Rosie turned a corner, officially out of sight from the house. She wanted to get out of this place. She couldn't do that without a gun. Where was the armory? The brown haired lady was the one who took the guns- the one who looked like a secretary- she'd know where the guns were. Where was the secretary lady? Who would know where the secretary lady was?
"I'm always around if you need anything. And that includes a cup of root beer," Jessie said. Rosie nodded and went out the front door.
Jessie. I guess I am goin' to the Andersons' house.
Quickening her pace, Rosie hurried to the Andersons' house. She needed to get a gun and get out of here as soon as possible. She'd come back, of course. Probably. But she needed out. At least for a few hours. There were too many people here. Too many people who acted like everything was normal. Rosie knocked on the front door three times. The door swung open, and a man was standing there.
Who the hell is this guy?
"Can I help you?" the man asked, his eyebrows slightly furrowed with confusion.
"Jessie," Rosie said, not wanting to say too many words to this strange man. She didn't trust him. Something about him seemed off, but she felt that around almost everyone, anyway.
The man turned, looking inside the house. "Jess!" he shouted, his voice loud and booming, just like David's used to be. Not thirty seconds later, Jessie came hurrying into the kitchen. "This girl is looking for you," the man said.
At first, Jessie looked confused, but upon moving closer and seeing Rosie standing there at the door, a small smile found its way onto her face. "Rosie," she said, taking the man's place in the doorway. The man disappeared into the house. "Are you looking for Ian and Sam? They're just upstairs."
"No," Rosie said, shaking her head. "Do you know where the brown haired lady is? She looks like a secretary." Jessie stared at Rosie for a moment, completely unsure of who she was talking about. "She's got glasses," Rosie then added, and a look of realization appeared on Jessie's face.
"Oh, you're talking about Olivia. She works at the food pantry, just a few houses down that way," Jessie explained, pointing down the road to Rosie's left. "Is that all you needed?"
Rosie was about to say yes and be on her way, but then she figured, since she was here anyway.... "Can I have some root beer, please?" Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows a little bit.
Jessie laughed a little, and nodded. "Of course. Come on in for a moment. I'll pour you a cup," she said. So, Rosie followed her inside and sat at a seat in front of the kitchen island while Jessie went to the fridge and took out a two-liter of root beer.
"Who was that guy?" Rosie asked, tapping her hands on the counter impatiently as Jessie took out another red solo cup.
"That was my husband, Pete," Jessie answered. She poured the root beer into the cup and Rosie let out a quiet oh. Jessie slid the cup over in front of Rosie, and Rosie took it gratefully. "Is there anything else you need? You're welcome to just stay and hang out with the kids, if you'd like."
"No, thank you," Rosie said. She slid off of the chair and took her cup with her. "Bye," Rosie said, and Jessie smiled and returned the bye.
Now, Rosie was back to her mission, fueled with a fresh cup of root beer. As Rosie was walking down the road, sipping on her root beer, she kicked a rock along with her absentmindedly. When she made it to the food pantry, she left the rock right outside, on the road, and marched up the driveway. There was a big garage left open wide, with tons of shelves stocked with a ton of different food. She wandered inside, looking around the shelves to see if she could find any guns. She gave up quickly, though, assuming that the guns were probably kept in a more secure place. When she took her last sip of root beer, she set the empty cup down on one of the shelves and made her way over to the door. This garage was connected to the house, which was weird, in Rosie's opinion. She opened the door, and then immediately jumped back, because the secretary lady was right there on the other side of the door, about to open it.
"Oh! You scared me," the secretary lady said, holding her hand up to her heart. Rosie thought about apologizing, but decided that she didn't feel like it. "Are you looking for something? I can ration you some chocolate, if you want. But only a little bit," the lady said with a playful smile.
"I need a gun," Rosie said, staring at the woman blankly.
The secretary lady's smile dropped almost instantly. "I'm sorry, I can't give you that unless you're going outside the walls," she said, shaking her head a little.
"I am going outside the walls," Rosie told her, her tone irritated and her eyebrows raised.
"You can't go outside the walls without an adult," the woman said. Rosie stared at her, unsure of what else to do. Her face was starting to heat up as she grew more and more frustrated. "If you come back with an adult, I can give you your gun, but I can't without permission."
"It's my gun," Rosie argued, her nails digging into her palms.
"I know. I'm sorry, but it's the rules," the secretary lady told her.
Rosie stared at her for a few more moments, as if her stare would magically coerce the lady into giving her what she wanted, but it didn't. So, Rosie turned and stormed out of the garage, muttering a few words that she probably shouldn't have muttered. As soon as Rosie was out of the garage, the secretary lady disappeared back into the house. Rosie went back to the end of the driveway, and stared at her boots for a moment. Next to her right boot was the rock she had kicked all the way here. Rosie picked it up, squeezing it in her hand.
The frustration Rosie felt was endless. It was her gun. Hers. It was from her house, and used to be her dad's. These people had no right to take it from her. She shouldn't need permission from some adult who wasn't even technically in charge of her, just to be able to get her gun. And to be told that she wouldn't even be allowed outside the walls by herself, too? That was what angered her the most. This place was supposed to be a safe place where they could stay if they wanted to. But she wasn't allowed to leave? That was bullshit, and it didn't make sense. Rosie could do whatever she wanted. None of these people had any right to tell her what to do. They couldn't just make up whatever rules they wanted. They didn't even know how it really was out there. They didn't know half of the shit that Rosie had been through, and they thought they had the right to tell her what she could and couldn't do?
Bullshit.
This place wasn't a safe place, it was a trap. Rosie was trapped in here.
There was an angry parasite inside of her. It had been growing, growing, growing ever since they got to Alexandria. Each word out of Daryl's mouth, out of Deanna's mouth, out of Olivia's mouth, out of Sam's mouth, out of anyone's mouth, made it grow bigger.
"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.
"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.
"Deanna said there's another kid here our age," Ian said.
"You're the new kids from outside, right?"
"Can she talk?" he asked.
"She can, she just doesn't want to," Ian answered, glancing over at Rosie.
"This is how shit is now. I need to adjust to it just as much as you do, I know, but I'm tryin' to help you," Daryl said.
"You're bein' an asshole," Rosie spat.
"No, I'm not. You need to get used to this place, and that ain't gonna happen if you go 'round stealin' shit from people," Daryl argued.
"You should be out playing with the other kids," Carol said, raising her eyebrows at Rosie.
"You can't go outside the walls without an adult," the woman said. "If you come back with an adult, I can give you your gun, but I can't without permission."
The rock was in Rosie's hand. She was gripping it tightly. Then the rock wasn't in her hand anymore, and a window was broken. Rosie stared at the window for a moment, not thinking. Then the secretary lady- Olivia- was in the window, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, covered by her hand.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why did I do that?
Olivia disappeared back into the food pantry.
I'm gonna be in so much trouble.
One part of Rosie was saying, Daryl likes you, he's not gonna hit you. But the other part of her was screaming, screaming, screaming, of course you're gonna get beat, you just threw a rock at a fucking window for no reason.
I hate it here. I hate it. I wanna go home. I don't even have a home.
She took a moment, standing there with her hands shaking at her sides. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to get beat. She never wanted to. Even if Daryl didn't beat her, he'd probably just hate her, along with everyone else.
This is why I ain't meant for places like this.
Rosie was going to leave, anyway. The only thing stopping her was her lack of a gun, but that didn't matter anymore. Nothing else mattered than getting the hell out of that place before Olivia told anyone what happened. So, Rosie ran. She couldn't go through the gate, because kids weren't allowed out there alone, apparently. She ran around the perimeter of Alexandria, searching for any breach in the wall- just any way at all for her to be able to leave. Her boots skidded to a stop when she laid eyes on a series of pipes, stuck through one of the metal beams. It was like a makeshift ladder. With seemingly no other choices, Rosie went straight for those pipes and scaled the wall. Slowly, she let herself down on the other side, hoping that no one saw her or was following her. She had no idea who put those pipes there, but she was eternally grateful for it.
Everyone was going to be mad. Everyone. Rosie didn't know if she could go back there. She didn't like it there, anyway, but she was still going to miss her family. Even if she did go back, they'd probably hate her. They'd been becoming more and more annoyed with her since they all got to Alexandria- at least, that's what Rosie thought. They just didn't understand. No one did- not even Daryl. And Daryl always understood. But not this time.
It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.
It didn't matter that she was leaving her family. They'd all be dead soon, anyway. Just like Fraser, and Daddy, and probably Momma. Rosie would be dead, too. They were all going to die, so who cares if they hated her? Rosie kept reminding herself of these things, as if it would help. But it wasn't helping. Her stomach hurt so bad. She felt like throwing up. She just kept running, further and further away from Alexandria. Olivia was probably telling Deanna right then, and then Deanna would probably tell Rick, and Rick would tell Daryl. Like a game of telephone that only led to Rosie getting in trouble.
Rosie was better outside the walls, anyway. Everything good about her, as far as she could tell, was only good outside of the walls. She knew how to use a gun, and plenty of other weapons. But she couldn't use them inside the walls. She knew how to hunt, and she was pretty good at it. But they didn't need anyone to go hunting inside the walls. She was tough. But no one needed to be tough inside the walls, because they like to pretend like nothing bad was happening, and nothing bad would ever happen. There was nothing good about Rosie inside these walls. Nothing.
I threw one rock at one window. Who cares?
Who am I kidding. Everyone cares.
It could've hit that lady. I could've hurt her, bad.
Idiot. This is so stupid!
Running, running, running.
"Rosie? What are you doing out here? Are you ok?"