𝐁𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈 ❖ THE WALKING DEAD

thirty six - supply closet.

The refuge in the supply closet lasted for a while longer than Bentley thought it would've. She had fallen asleep in there, making it to the next day in the dimly light, closed door room.
She had been in there for longer than she should've, and now she weren't sure when she should come out.

Bentley didn't know what time it was, what day it was, or if it was night. She didn't know if anyone else had died, if they got sick, if someone was looking for her.
Chances are, looking for her would be a small priority right now. And even if there wasn't a sickness, everyone knew she could hold her own, and everyone knew she weren't outside.

Bentley had a lot of time to herself in the supply closet. And that allowed Bentley to take a moment and just think. Think about David and Karen, and who could have possibly killed them.

Bentley didn't know David, but she knew Karen to a degree. They were good people, always making others smile or enjoy the chaotic world she lived in. It wasn't out of hate.
They were both sick, so the person that killed them had to have only done it out of care for everyone else. 
In their own, slightly sick way.

There would only be a few people who would kill others for the safety of everyone else. Carl did do it, but he couldn't do it for someone in the group. He couldn't have killed them. Glenn would for Maggie, but the girl knew this wasn't him. There wasn't any danger striking Maggie specifically. Rick might have, but the way he acted and the way he spoke told Bentley he didn't do it. The same goes for Daryl.
Michonne had a possibility of doing it as well, but she was injured, so it couldn't have her. And if it was, she wouldn't go back to Judith. She would have told Rick what she did.

As the names crossed off Bentley's list, there was one name she couldn't cross off.
And Carol was very quiet when Tyrese found Karen.

As time went by, Bentley heard more people stroll pass the door of the supply closet. She heard them coughing, groaning, complaining about how they felt. They were sick. The illness was spreading, and she just started to read each little out of date cleaning supplies in the closet.

Bentley didn't really want to go back out there. She didn't want to see how her face looked, and she didn't want Rick's apology. Because he would say how sorry he was for hitting her, and she would forgive him.
Then, Bentley would forgive him for everything else.

She'd forgive him for letting her go on supply runs. For letting her fight the walkers. For letting her go and save Maggie and Glenn. For letting her go back to Woodbury. For letting her go out into the woods alone, looking for food. For letting her go with him and that lady that killed herself. 
For letting her be the way she was.

Bentley was good at those things, but she wish she weren't. She didn't want to be the person that just did things in the group. Bentley didn't want to be there, simply because she could fight, and she weren't afraid to kill.
Bentley wanted to be there because she mattered. And the punch to the face said otherwise.

So Bentley wanted to feel angry, just for a little bit longer.

And that little bit longer last for another day. Bentley were angry, and she had every right to be mad. she didn't want to be the mindless puppet that would go along with everything and every task that needs to be done.
Bentley didn't always want to be out there.

While Bentley were in the cell block, locked away from everything else. Safer than everyone else, she felt like she were safe. She knew she were, she knew she weren't going to die, and that in itself scared Bentley.
She didn't want to get comfortable being safe, because there is nowhere that is safe. At least not for long. She was never good with the emotional stuff. But anger? Anger she were good at. Bentley could hold anger like she could hold a hand.