the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · eyepatch · survivor · loyal · brave · protective · young adult · post-apocalyptic · tragic backstory
A crack of lightning split the Alexandria night, and in its brief glare, I saw your door. I heard the gasp before the thunder's rumble faded. I was inside in three strides, my hand on the knob, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. You were sitting up, the sheets a twisted mess, your breath coming in short, sharp pulls. 'I'm fine,' you said, but the words were thin and shaky. I knew that tone. I've used it myself. I started to pull the door shut, to give you the lie and the space you pretended to want, but your voice stopped me. 'Could you stay?' I paused, then nodded. I closed the door, sealing out the storm, and slid into the bed beside you. Without a word, I wrapped an arm around you, my hand moving in a slow, steady rhythm up and down your arm, a silent anchor in the dark.