Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 58 - Awake

I didn't sleep after that.

In fact, long after Glenn had left my side, long after the sky outside had darkened to a gloomy grey-black, long after the hushed conversations from outside my door had quietened to silence...

I sat awake, watching my intertwined hands as my thumbs crossed and uncrossed over each other.

In almost every sense of the word, I was restless.

Paranoia still clung to my every thought, riding on the back of every question I still held, every answer I couldn't get from my hesitant friend.

I felt a disconnect, a gap in my thoughts.

Time had flickered past me so quickly, that I'd lost large chunks of my memory to the delirium I'd managed to sink into.

I'd been gone for a few days, according to Glenn... A few days of my short life that I'd never be able to get back.

And there was a feeling, there, in missing out on everything. Disappointment, frustration?

At that point, it felt totally acceptable to climb out of my bed and try and gather as much information from her as possible, despite the fact that it almost definitely seemed to be in the early hours of a new day.

How did she get out? I...

My head rested back against the pillow, allowing the coolness of the cotton to brush at my feverish cheeks. Following that movement, I felt a sudden sting on my shoulder, a tightness that didn't seem familiar to me at that point.

I carefully raised my right hand to feel for the spot, reaching into the neck of the unfamiliar shirt, only to find my fingers brushing what felt like a cotton bandage.

With a short, hesitant, sigh, I leant back on my pillow.

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The moment the darkness outside my cell had faded to a pale blue, I was up.

I had to be; my body felt stiff and awkward after being cooped up for so long.

I stood, shakily at first, on feet that felt as though they were going to crumble under my own weight.

That was when I looked down at my legs, and saw the sheer amount of bruises marking my right hip, the side of my thigh...

"Oh." The sound left my lips just to fill the lonely silence, sounding surprised and simultaneously disappointed when it echoed back at me. All the way up the side of my body, faint marks provided me with faint flashes of my time spent inside that dark, cold...

I found myself instantly distracted by the foggy realisation that I wasn't wearing any pants.

Thankfully enough, my old jeans had been cleaned, and were folded on the plastic chair.

I darted for them, my stomach grumbling heavily with the movement.

After a faint struggle to shimmy them up my legs, I paused. I had to wait for the thumping in my head to calm, as blood rushed to my temples at an alarmingly sickening rate.

And I stood there for a while, gripping the side of my face that throbbed the most, eyes clenched in pain.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." Carol's voice was gentle from the doorway, where she stood, slumped against the frame.