I sat on the cold floor with my legs crossed, shivering for the rest of the day and avoiding eye contact with anyone that passed by. A figure that suddenly stopped outside the cell for a bit caused me to lift my eyes up from observing my bloody hand.

"Story time's about to start. Wanna come with," Carol wondered quietly. "You can help me run it. I think you'd be good with the kids and it'll help get your mind off things."

"I'm fine right where I am."

"You sure? I heard about what happened earlier and—"

"I'm fine," I assured her. "Promise." She looked at me sadly as she began to walk away.

"We'll be in the library if you change your mind," Carol called out to me. She then disappeared around the corner. I shifted my focus back down to my hand. A tear I didn't realize was streaming down my face splashed onto my skin.

"What're the tears for, girl," Merle's gruff voice questioned me, his back up against the metal bars. I snapped out of my trance-like state and wiped my eyes as quickly as possible.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"It's gotta be somethin'. It's not about what happened earlier, now, is it?"

"No," I spat, my lip slightly quivering with the lie I told. Merle sighed.

"C'mon Red, he needed an ass whoopin'; that cocky little son of a bitch. He can't talk to you like that and get away with it."

"I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in here," I whispered, another tear trickling down my cheek.

"Ain't no way," Merle shook his head in disagreement. "They'll come around, promise."

I sniffled, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. When I glanced back up, he was gone. I was left alone again in cold, dark isolation. A series of intense coughs erupted from the showers, catching my attention. I listened to the hacking with concern, my eyes and ears focused on the noisy area. A few moments later, the coughing ceased. I relaxed, hoping the person was okay; those coughs sounded painful.

As night began to set, people filed past me to get back in their cells. I had asked permission to shower and was granted access to it once everyone was settled, thank god. A spare pair of clothes were given to me from a former resident of Woodbury. I thanked them and held the clothing in my arms, shuffling over to the showers. I started up the water as soon as I could, throwing the clean clothes to the ground and stripping off my dirty ones. I climbed under the shower head, letting the hot water rain down on me. The dry blood and dirt caked to my body slipped down my skin in small beads, swirling around and down the drain. I squinted as I spotted what looked like a pair of glasses on the ground, tiny specks of blood surrounding them. I took a few steps closer, observing them more intently. A hiss escaped from behind one of the shower curtains. A biter stumbled up and out from behind it, limping towards me. I let out a rather loud yell as I was backed into a corner. My back hit the frigid wall, my heart pounding in my ears. I had nowhere else to go and nothing to defend myself with. I slid down the wall all the way to the ground in attempts to shrink away. The biter slipped on a puddle of water, falling on its face and smashing in its decayed features. It didn't hesitate to rebound and claw at the ground, dragging itself towards me.

I screamed as the biter opened its mouth, swiping the air in hopes to grab my foot. An arrow sunk through its head, blood oozing from the wound. I was curled up in a ball, tucked away in the corner and shivering. I gazed down at the biter and recognized it: Patrick. Daryl turned off the water and rushed over to me with a towel, shoving the corpse aside. My face began to redden as he crouched down in front of me. He could probably see everything.

"You okay," Daryl asked me, worry present in his eyes. I nodded, my breathing shaky and my heart still pounding.

"C-could you hand me my clothes," I muttered in embarrassment. Daryl flashed his eyes down to my chest then back up to my eyes. My breath hitched nervously in my throat at what he'd just done. He then awkwardly blushed, grabbing the clean clothes off the floor and handing them over to me.

"I'll take care of this," he mumbled, retrieving his arrow from Patrick's head and grabbing him by the ankles. Daryl dragged the body out of the shower room. It left a thick trail of blood behind that stretched across the floor. I could hear small worried gasps and yelps once Daryl entered the general population area. I stood up, my legs shaking the tiniest bit with shock while I threw on my clothes as quickly as I could. I wrung the water out of my hair before I exited the area, avoiding the blood trail as best as possible. People stared at me with concern as I nervously shuffled back to the lone cell.

"Everything's been taken care of! Get back to bed," I heard someone order as the cell door was slammed shut behind me. I laid down on the floor and curled up into a ball to keep warm.

△

It must've been around midnight when my eyes flew open. I sat up and began to cough. It hurt my chest but I couldn't stop. My stomach lurched, my throat beginning to burn. I knew what was coming next. I groaned, getting on my knees and throwing up in front of me. I just barely missed myself. Quick footsteps rushed over to the cell as I continued to spill the contents of my stomach onto the floor. They stopped then bolted the other way. I hunched over, clutching my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain. I coughed again, just gagging this time. Daryl, accompanied by Rick, came running my way. Rick jumped back in a state of disgust once he saw the mess, Daryl swinging open the door and rushing to my side. He quickly tied a bandana around his face, his mouth and nose concealed.

"No," Rick stepped back again, shaking his head while he remembered what I did to his son earlier. "Leave her be. She can sit in her own vomit." He was bitter, his face scrunched up in anger. A rush of hotness plagued my body, beads of sweat forming on my hairline. I leaned back, feeling faint. Daryl positioned his arm across my back, holding me up. I began to cough again.

"Help me," Daryl furiously growled at Rick while my lungs gave me no mercy, the familiar feeling of vomit creeping back up my throat. My face was pale, my body weak. Rick stood in brief silence before whipping out a bandana and tying it around his face. I swallowed the feeling and my coughing ceased for now. Daryl turned to me, pulling a water bottle from his pocket. "Drink this," he said in a soft voice. I reached out a shaky hand, snatching the bottle from him. I drank it as fast as I could. I've never felt this thirsty in my whole life. Once Rick and him finished cleaning up, Rick stomped away. Daryl lingered behind, sitting down in the corner with his back up against the bars.

"You shouldn't be here," I whispered, my whole body shaking as chills raked through my bones. "I'll get you sick." I quickly suppressed a cough.

"No," he immediately refused. "I ain't leavin'." The bandana on his face slightly intimidated me, but his soft blues were calm and welcoming. I closed my eyes and laid down to relax my muscles and, hopefully, my stomach. "Try to sleep. I'll be here if you need somethin'." I coughed a few more times, my breath wheezy. This idiot was gonna get himself sick staying in here to take care of me. Take care of me? I felt my heart flutter but I quickly pushed the thought out of my brain.