My stomach growled, my body ached, and after accidentally tripping over my bed pan, I smelled like shit. The cellar was so fucking hot, it's no wonder Negan got transferred to Alexandria; I felt like I've lost an entire pants size just from sweating. Where the fuck was everybody?
The cellar door opened and a shadow appeared from the top. I held my breath, hoping to God it was Daryl, Rick, or someone to free me, but I let my breath go as an older man came into view, holding a food tray. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked.
"We haven't met, yet." The man answered. "I'm Earl Sutton."
"Michaela Dixon." I sighed. "Sorry for bein' rude, just fuckin' hot in here, bored out of my goddamn mind—I don't even know why I'm in here."
"Rosita said you stole from the infirmary."
"I took a couple of buds of marijuana, but it was to make hemp oil for Elijah, I didn't take more than I needed and didn't plan on keepin' it all, either. The rest was gonna go back to the infirmary."
"Why did he need it?"
"He has absence seizures...he had a grand mal seizure today."
"Is he okay?"
"He was comin' around a little when I got imprisoned."
"Arrested?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I sighed. "I was just tryin' to help my nephew, get 'em the medicine he needed, and this is what I get."
"Look, I wasn't there when it happened, so I can't say who I believe, but I will say that Rosita hates your guts."
"Thanks for statin' the obvious."
"I just mean that we can't be sure if her side of the story is true or not. When she and the others get back, we'll talk it over and see what needs to be done."
"Get back? Where the fuck did she go?"
"Word got to us that the rain destroyed a bridge. Rosita went to go check it out and be there for the others when they arrive. That was a few hours ago. I was told to keep an eye on you, thought you'd be hungry." Earl motioned towards the food tray.
"Where are the kids?"
"They're upstairs with my wife, Tammy; she loves kids and volunteered to watch them."
"Harper, is she—"
"She's just fine. Trying to breastfeed off of her, but fine. You really should consider weaning her off."
"Thanks, but I'll raise my kid how I want. If food is scarce, she's got a meal."
"Are you gonna breastfeed her until she's in her twenties?"
"No—"
"Then at least consider it. We're doing okay, Michaela, you don't have to panic." Earl slid my tray under the bars; venison stew with a weird slice of bread. "It's zwieback, my wife made it; her mother came here from Germany after being freed from Birkenau, they ate this when she was little." I picked up and took a bite. I expected it to be hard and salty like a hardtack, but instead, it was soft and kind of sweet.
"Well, tell your wife that I said danke (German: thank you)." I softly smiled.
"You speak German?"
"Just the basic shit. English, French, and Spanish is my forte."
"Learn in school?"
"Never made it past elementary school in public school, the rest was catholic school, not sure what grade, but I was seventeen when I left the orphanage. Father Gabriel never made us learn another language, but I liked to read a lot."
"What did you like to read?"
"Anythin', really. Fiction, biographies, nonfiction, whatever when I'm bored, how-to books when I wanna learn somethin'."
"So you're a self-taught jack of all trades, huh?" I looked down at my stump and let out a sigh.
"I used to be," I mumbled."
"You still can be. You've got attachments now, I'm sure some things will get easier to do. I'm not saying you'll be able to do absolutely everything, but your life will get back to normal soon."
"My life was never normal, Earl." I took another bite of the zwieback. "Thanks for the food and give the kids my best."
"You're not gonna do it yourself?"
"Rosita is a goddamn spider, Earl. Dependin' on how she spins 'er web, I might not see half them kids ever again."
"You can't think like that, sweetheart."
"They look at me like I've got the fuckin' plague, like I'm a monster waitin' for 'em to trust me so I can bite their heads off."
"They're scared of you."
"Bullshit."
"They are. You're like the boogeyman, they tell horror stories about you."
"Gee, I always wanted to be famous," I scoffed.
"People tend to be scared of me sometimes. Not out of fear, but worry, I think. I'm a recovering alcoholic, and anytime I'm around alcohol, everyone just stares at me. I haven't had the taste for it for years.
"Good, that shit'll kill ya...congrats on your sobriety."
"Thank you." The room fell silent. "C-Can I ask you something?"
"I'm locked in a cell, ain't goin' nowhere, ain't like I've got much of a choice to listen."
"Harper...what happened to her eye?"
"Is that one of the Michaela Boogeyman stories?"
"Just with the older kids. They've been saying some awful theories and I wanted to know the truth."
"What do ya do here?" I asked, changing subjects.
"What?"
"What do ya do around here? I mean, besides babysit prisoners when other people are too fuckin' goddamn lazy to do it themselves."
"I'm a blacksmith."
"Good," I nodded. "You've made yourself indispensable."
"And you are too."
"How, because I'm Daryl's wife?"
"Because you're smart. People who are smart and have the know-how tend to make it far in this world." Earl looked up towards the stairs as the sounds of hooves echoed from outside. "Lucky you, I think they're back."
"Thank God," I sighed with relief.
"Eat up, I'll let them know what happened and send them down." I reached my hand through the bars and smiled.
"Thank you." Earl shook my hand and made his way up the stairs, shutting the cellar door behind him. I sat down in the cot and ate my dinner in silence, but no one came, not immediately at least. After an hour, the cellar door finally opened and Rick and Daryl entered their room, only to stop and stare at me from the other side.
"'Bout damn time y'all came for me, it's hot as shit in here." I smirked as I rose to my feet. I waited for them to unlock the cell, but they didn't move. "You gonna let me out or are ya gonna stare at me like I'm an animal at the fuckin' zoo?"
"What were ya thinkin' Michaela?" Rick asked. "We trusted ya and we find out ya stole from the infirmary?"
"First off, y'all don't trust me, I see the way y'all stare at me, I ain't stupid, Rick." Rick didn't respond. "Second of all, I can't believe you're takin' Rosita's side on this knowin' that she's had it out for me for a long fuckin' time."
"She was the only witness and was asked to watch over you."
"What?" Daryl snapped as he turned to Rick. "Ya said she was here because ya couldn't trust 'er to supervise Negan by herself!"
"I did, but I asked 'er to keep an eye on Michaela, too. I know she's turned over a new leaf, but everyone here was worried about us leavin' 'er behind."
"So, Earl was right...I am the boogeyman, huh?" I scoffed. "Lovely."
"This is a new low, Rick," Daryl growled. "Fuck your, I'm lettin' 'er out."
"Not until we know the truth of what happened," Rick argued.
"Set a fuckin' court date for after the funeral."
"...funeral?" I asked, causing Rick and Daryl to look towards me. "Who died?"
~~
Alden quietly sang in the background as everyone sat around the wooden box that sat on a table. Ken, was his name. Ken Sutton. Earl and his wife Tammy sat side-by-side alone and in silence as they mourned the loss of their son. Ken was trying to save the horses from walkers, but a horse got spooked and kicked him in the chest. He died a few minutes later due to internal bleeding.
The fucker should've just left the horses be...then again, I think I would've done the same...at least until I had absolutely no choice but to run. Maggie was holding Hershel and watching from the balcony, Tammy apparently didn't want her here. I heard that she was questioning Maggie's leadership, blaming her for Ken's death. I know it's just the stages of mourning, but maybe there's some truth to it all. Maybe...
"I'm gonna miss you, Ken," Alden spoke up after he finished the song. "Heaven's a better place for having you...cheers." Everyone raised their glasses and took a drink of the alcohol Gregory had passed around, everyone but me, Earl, and Tammy took some, so we just remained silent.
"Ken was a quiet, good-hearted young man," Gregory added. "He wasn't a fighter. He tended to our animals, he shoed the horses. It's regular guys like Ken that keep a place going. He will be remembered as a son, a friend...a shining example of Hilltop's strength and fundamental decency, even in the face of this terrible tragedy...cheers, Ken...rest in peace." Everyone lifted their glasses once more and took another drink.
"Gregory," Jesus softly spoke. "That was really beautiful."
"Something like this really makes you think about what you have and what you lost. And I'm just...I'm just grateful for where I am." Without another word, Gregory walked away with most of the crowd, only me and a few others remained. Harper let out a quiet yawn and rested her head against my shoulder.
"I'm gonna put 'er to bed, Jesus," I quietly informed.
"I'll be up in a few." Jesus nodded. "Rick and the others will be back from the Sanctuary soon and we'll be ready for your hearing."
"And you were told to babysit me, I take it?"
"Yes, but by Daryl, not Rick. He wanted me to keep an eye out to make sure Rosita didn't give you anymore shit. That, and I believe your side of the story and want to help you prepare for the hearing."
"Thanks." I carefully carried Harper inside and into the bedroom and gently laid her down in her crib, checking her diaper one last time for any mess. Herper's eyes opened slightly and a soft smile crept onto her face before falling back to sleep. I quietly walked over to Elijah's cot and carefully tucked him in.
"Michaewa?" Elijah mumbled."
"Yeah, bud?" I whispered.
"Where'd you go?"
"Don't worry about that, okay? Everythin's fine, now go back to sleep."
"Are you gonna go away again?" I gently brushed his blond hair out of his eyes and sighed.
"No, Elijah...I'm not goin' anywhere. Your dad will be back tomorrow and everythin' will be back to normal." I looked towards the door and mentally sighed as Rosita glared back at me from the doorway. I looked down at Elijah, who was already fast asleep, and kissed his forehead before exiting my room and shutting the door behind me.
"Good evenin' Rosita."I muttered as I walked around her and made my way down the stairs to clean up the living room, Rosita instantly followed. "Anythin' I can help ya with? Dishes, laundry, an apology letter?"
"I'm supposed to apologize to a thief?" Rosita snapped.
"No, you're supposed to apologize to the wrongfully accused."
"I caught you red-handed!"
"I left a note for Siddiq explainin' what happened because I didn't want to fuck with the ledgers, somethin' ya would've seen if you would've gotten your head out of your own ass and looked around. And you will do well to keep your voice down while the kids are fuckin' sleepin'." I began to pick up the toys and put everything away, but stopped as Rosita shoved me. I turned to face her, but said nothing.
"Hit me," Rosita growled. "Hit me!" When I didn't respond, Rosita punched me in the nose, sending me back a few steps. "Hit me, you stupid bitch! Hit me!"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Make it look like I attacked you so you killed me out of defense?" I wiped the blood from my nose and chuckled under my breath. "That ain't me no more, Rosita, no matter how much ya wanna believe that I haven't changed. Now, keep your fuckin' voice down."
I finished picking up the living room and made my way to the kitchen. I gathered the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink to wash. The sound of metal dragging against a hard surface caught my attention and, out of reaction, I quickly turned and held my arm up in defense. Rosita's arm slammed against mine and the point of a knife rested a few inches away from my face.
"Rosita, stop!" I grunted as I fought to keep the blade from my face, but Rosita kept inching the knife closer and closer. "Rosita, I don't want to hurt ya!"
"Abraham didn't need to die, no one did!" Rosita growled through gritted teeth. "No one except you and Negan!" Rosita forced me back and lunged at me with the knife once more, but I took my opportunity and grabbed her arm and twisted it until the elbow cracked and her hand released the knife. Rosita bellowed in pain, holding her limp arm as I picked the knife up off the floor. "Kill me then." Rosita panted. "You've got every reason to want to, no one can stop you, so do it."
I looked down at the knife and gripped it tight. Rosita was looking at me for the blame for Abraham's death since she couldn't take it out on Negan...I was her next best option. I knew what she was going through, I've been there before. Rick and Martinez getting Merle killed, Nicholas causing Noah's death, I knew what it felt like having all that anger and not being able to take it out on those responsible. Rosita didn't want any of this, not really...she just wanted the pain to go away.
"No," I mumbled and set the knife aside and out of reach. "I'm not gonna kill ya, Rosita."
"Why?"
"Because I've changed. I used to analyze every situation before makin' a decision, but somewhere along the line, I stopped. I'm gettin' back to that now. Killin' you...what does that solve? The tension? No, it'll make it worse. Killin' me, killin' you, it'll all make it worse. These are the times we're supposed to pull together, not fight amongst ourselves. So, no, Rosita, I ain't gonna kill ya." Rosita fell silent. "Want me to pop that back into place?" I motioned to her arm.
"You stay the fuck away from me, you fucking freak! You come near me again, and I'll kill you!"
"No, ya won't."
"Wanna try me?"
"We've just established that I don't, but I know ya won't kill me."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Abraham wouldn't want ya to." Rosita glared at me and finally stormed off, nearly running into Jesus in the process.
"What was that about?" Jesus asked.
"Nothin'," I lied.
"Didn't look like nothing. What happened to her arm?"
"I dislocated it."
"You what? Why? Michaela, that isn't gonna help your case."
"It was self defense. She was tryin' to get me to fight back so she'd have a better case against me, but I wouldn't." I motioned towards the knife. "She tried to kill me, but all I did was take the knife away and dislocate 'er arm in the process. I didn't hurt 'er otherwise."
"Why would she try to kill you?"
"She just wants to vindicate Abraham's death, but can't get to Negan, so I'm the next best option."
"Want me to tell Rick?"
"No, I'm sure she'll make it known tomorrow. Now, how about I make us somethin' to snack on while we go over my case?"