Madison's pov.
I walk forward, infront of Reg as he tries to lead the way, inside his house. I march up his porch steps and throw a glance behind me and watch as he struggles to keep pace with me. But I wait for him at the top so he can open the door to his house. He gathers himself together with a deep breath and a hand swiping across his forehead before pushing the door open for me.
As I step into the hall I look at the mint green walls and the wooden furniture in the hallway with a massive mirror to complete the entry. I tighten my grip on my bow not from fear this time but anger. They've been living in luxury while we fought each day out there just to survive and yet, that's not their fault. So, I copy Reg in taking a deep breath to gather myself.
I hear him clear his throat to gain my attention. God! Even the sound of his presence is annoying. I really hate him and I hate that I hate him with no reason. I turn to him and raise a brow.
I watch as he takes in my expression. "Um, you can give me your bow and arrows, i'll keep good care of them."
His hands are outstretched, waiting for me but instead of handing them over I fight off the urge to laugh at him.
"No offense, but you'd have a better chance draining the river Nile with a straw before touching my bow" I tell him.
His jaw tenses and his mouth forms a tight line, giving me the reassurance that our feelings towards each other are mutual.
"Im not letting you near my wife with those weapons." He states.
I throw my hands in the air dramatically.
"Oh i'm sorry, I thought you asked me to come here. Not the other way around. You asked me here so your wife can interview me. You plotted this, not me."
"You seem like a quick thinker. Even if I have organized this, you can adapt your plans just as easily."
I sigh and concentrate on not hitting him or letting my irritation get the better or me.
"If I had adapted my plans I would've let you lead me to your house and when you turned to open the door, I would've crawled through the back window, found your wife, slit her throat and get you on the other side of the door."
He looks horrified.
I shrug. "Looks, that's just a nicer way of saying that if I wanted either of you dead, you'd be dead by now. I won't hurt either of you if you don't give me a reason to."
"That was supposed to be nicer ?"
I shrugged again in confusion. It sounded nicer to me.
"You cant blame me for judging a teenager covered in blood that comes into my house griping a bow like her life depends on it." He argues.
No, I can't.
I suspect that he believed me or maybe I creeped him out but either way he dropped the argument and shook his head. "Come with me."
He walks me past the large mirror and I take a curious glance at myself when passing but I'm stopped in my tracks. It's hard to put a name to the girl standing in the mirror. I know it's me, small parts of her even look like me but I refuse to believe it. She looks so different and it's not just because of the blood and guts covering her from head to toe, but even her face is unrecognizable.
The stranger with dark patches under her eyes are barely visable because of the layers of blood and dirt covering her body and sticking to her clothes. Her old stitches decorate her face and are yet to be taken out but the look in her eyes is what stopped me. A horrid contrast of wildness and boredom settles there. Similarly, her eyes hide secrets yet they're too open and wide, too readable. Her eyes scream that she's alive but the dark circles beneath them bellow that she's barely holding on...
When I look around the hall again Reg is nowhere to be found. I tear my gaze away from the girl in the mirror and I force my feet forward. I walk into a room with a large white bookshelf that covers the back wall. It has books, decorations and instruments on it. It's a lot to take in. I don't realise that my feet took me straight to it until I'm lifting up a photoframe with a group of smiling people.
I recognize Reg in it and the man that was at the gate. It must be his family. I look at the woman who has brown hair chopped to her shoulders. Crinkles decorate her eyes when she smiles. The smile looked natural on her face, as if she had plenty of things to smile about. If I had a family that size, all still alive I wouldn't stop smiling either. Two men stand next to her with similar crinkles by their eyes.
I rest my bow on a overly full shelf, pushing things rudely to the side to make room for my bow. I stroll over to a calender. I look at the days that have been 'x'ed off in a red marker and I realise that today is the 7th of Febuary. I had noticed that the weather was getting a little better but its still a little cold from the previous Winter.
"Good Afternoon. I'm Deanna." A voice calls from behind me. I spin around to be greeted by a woman identical to the one in the photo. I grab my bow and hold it in my left hand. The woman eyes me for a minute, distracted by my gory apperance, but she professionaly gathers herself together and goes over to adjust what looks to be a camera standing on a three legged contraption to keep it upright and in position.
"Would it be okay if I record our conversation?" She asks.
Her question takes me by surprise and then I remember the large solar panals that were outside the fences.
What don't they have?
I don't see the harm in her request so I just nod.
She sits on a flower patterned couch and motions for me to take a seat opposite to her, on her armchair.
She then looks unsure and quickly decides to put a towel on it before I sit.
"Whats your name young lady?"
"Madison." I reply, realising that Ive not properly thought this through. I don't want her to ask questions about me. She smiles and I try to relax in my chair.
"Its nice to meet you. You must be Rick's other daughter." she smiles.
"Yes?" I respond with a shrug.
"Why does your answer sound like another question?" She pries politely.
"We're not blood, but he's my dad, I guess." I explain. She nods her head, understanding.
"How old are you Madison?"
"Not sure. Fifteen I think."
"When will you be sixteen?"
"May." I quickly respond.
"Thats not far away from now." She states. I nod and glance back at the calendar.
"That's a beautiful piece. Where did you get it?" She asks,nodding towards my bow. I squirm uncomfortably at the question that brings back too many memories. I sit it down on the coffee table between us.
"It was my dads." I tell her.
"Ricks?"
"No. No, uh, my actually dad. He made it."
"I see. Tell me, is your mother here?"
The breath is nearly knocked out of me. I take in a deep breath and clutch my necklace.
"She's dead."
"Any brothers? Sisters?"
"Dead."
She looks down at her feet before speaking again.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Its quiet for a few minutes and I try to shake images of Abbie out of my head.
"Was it recent ? A family death? When I was interviewing your.... friend, Luke, he said you weren't yourself.... what did he mean by that?" She asks.
I feel anger bubble inside me.
"Why would you be talking about me in somebody else's interview?"
She points her palms up in casual defense. "I like to know how everyone met. Their connections and their history. Yours and Luke's story was particularly interesting."
"Do you ask all these questions for a reason or are you just a nosy bitch ?" I snap.
She stares at me, reading me and making me grow more irritable.
"I ask these questions for a reason Madison."
"You think the answers will tell you all about us? To help you decide if we're stable or safe enough to have behind your walls?" I retort.
She smirks. "No. Not quite. I'll let you in on a little secret Madison Smith. I don't give a rats ass about your answers or anyone else's to be frank. That's not me being rude. That's simply just the facts. I don't want answers. I want reactions. Reactions can tell you a lot about a person but you need to know the right questions to ask to get those kind of reactions."
It suddenly strikes me that I've read Deanna all wrong. She's not as simple as I thought her to be. Instead, she's quite smart, cunning even.
"What do my reactions tell you about me? I have a lot of them."
She smiles again. "Reg warned me you might be..... stuborn." She chooses her words carefully. "But I can see that for myself now. I can also see that you're struggling quite a bit."
I frown.
"It's rude of me to suggest that I ask you all the questions and you get none in return. I like to be fairly reasonable when I can. I'm a mother and a wife. We settled behind these walls pretty much since the beginning. I was only too keen to have my children safely behind these walls but if I'm being honest I was apprehensive about leaving what was once our world behind."
"Why?" I ask simply.
"It sounds foolish but I loved my job. Not many people got to say that back then but I really, truly did love my job. I was in politics. My job thrived off of me knowing how to read people. And I can. I'm really good at it."
I nod. "That's how you know what questions to ask?"
She answers with a warm smile.
"What are you hiding Madison Smith?"
"What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"
"You have reactions. Big ones at that, but not the ones I expect and they don't match with the questions I expect you to react to."
"Does that bother you?" I challenge her but she doesn't answer.
She stares at me intensely before opening her mouth.
"You answer one, I answer one. We take turns. Fair?" She compromises.
I nod.
"What grade were you in at school before this?" She asks.
"I, I didn't go to school." I say.
"Were you home schooled?" She asks
I decide to go with the simpiler story.
"Sure." I lie.
"What do you want us here for?" I ask.
"You can help the community. Grow our population. I want a future for the human race. We can rebuild our lives.We can get guards, teachers, we could get anything from you people, if you were willing to participate. You have stitches in your face. Did you stitch them yourself?" she asks curioisly.
"Yes."
"Then we've found ourselves a future doctor. After you finish school here of course. See, you could fit right in. You can be like the others" She says.
Something about what she said bothers me but I remember to keep a calm facade. She's looking for my reactions.
"Did you ever kill anyone?" I ask. The mood in the room changes quickly.
"No. But I have exciled three men and we both know thats as good as killing them." She whispers, shame laced thickly in her voice.
"You don't know how wrong you are about that Deanna Monroe." I whisper back. Her eyebrows furrow.
"What do you mean?"
"Those walls have blinded you. This new world isn't as honest as the one we had before. People lie. They make themself look weaker or they make themselves look invincible. Both kinds of people are dangerous because you either over or underestimate. Believing them is possibly the most vulnerable thing you can do in this world. Vulnerability gets you killed."
"I'm not sure that I follow."
I dismiss my answer. "If I were you I'd just be more aware of who you let in those gates. People aren't always who they say they are. It doesn't matter who you exile. They can always come back."
"Are you telling me I shouldn't let your group in?"
I'm quiet for a moment, silently debating her question.
"We're good people. I know all people say that they are, but we are. Not the kinds of good people that you might usually refer to. We're not polite. We're not giving. We take what we can to survive. We don't have great manners. A lot of us fight but we work. Our group works and we have good morals in the sense that we don't lock people away and starve them or torture them, we aren't cannibals, we don't split groups up or starve innocent prisoners to death and throw them down elevator shafts for our own benefit ...."
Reactions ! She wants reactions.
I pull myself together.
"We're good people. All things considered. I won't trust you or your people but I'm not here to decide for the group. So you should let us in. We're good people."
"All things considered." She finished for me.
I nod.
"You should trust us. Have we given you a reason not to yet?"
I don't answer her.
"Seems like you've all been through a lot together." It's not a question really, it's more of a statement.
"Did you?" She asks.
"huh?"
"Did you kill anyone?" She asks again.
"Yes."
"How many?"
I shake my head. "One question each." I remind her.
"Why do you want me to trust this place?"
"Because I think we could work too."
I'm not satisfied with that answer. It's not enough but I reckon she knows that.
She wants reactions.
"How many people?" she asks again.
"Five."
"Five?" She gasps.
I let that sink in for her.
"Why? Who?" She asks pale faced.
"The last person I killed was a woman named Dawn. She deserved it. I killed two of her men who tried to kill me. I was on a supply run, gathering things for her and they attacked. I did what I had to do. The next was bad and one I'm not proud of but again, it had to be done. He was old, he was innocent and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He saw something that was meant to stay a secret, so I killed him so my friend could escape and then we stole his clothes as disguises." I clear my throat. That sounded a lot worse out loud.
"I killed another man he tortured me and my family for years and he killed my brother."
Her face is frozen and I laugh. "So much for my reactions, huh?"
She snaps her poker face back together but she's still obviously disturbed.
"Do you regret killing them?"
I snicker. "No."
"No?"
"No." I grab my bow from the table. "I'll admit that that old man was unfortunate but necessary. If I had to do it again I would. But every other bastard on that list deserved what they got. I don't regret it at all. In fact, if I was given a chance to do it again, I would.
"How's that for a reaction?" I tease.
She glares at me.
"This interview is over." She says harshly.
I hear her gulp loudly and she looks around for Reg probably.
"Finally."
"You didn't ask that many questions." I state.
"Oh I think I've asked enough. You can go now."
I leave the house knowing i'll probably be the forth person she'll be exciling.