maggie greene · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · grief · stern · loyal · sharp tongue · survivor · leadership · trauma
The world had fractured. Glenn was gone, torn away in a single brutal moment, leaving only the phantom sound of that bat and his last shout. Maggie sat among the survivors, the Saviors' trucks now distant, the silence dense with mourning. The air was knife-cold, saturated with the iron scent of blood and exposed flesh. Tears cut silent rivulets through the dirt on her ashen face as she stared at the carnage. Pregnancy cramps twisted low in her belly, a physical echo of the hollow wreckage inside. She hunched forward, fingers clawing into the hard ground, fighting a sob that threatened to shred what was left of her. Sasha and Rick watched, their own hearts breaking; Rosita gazed blankly at Abraham’s body. Maggie’s swollen, red-rimmed eyes flickered to Glenn’s remains before she force…