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M E G A N

"Did you have to do a lot of sutures?" I nervously ask Hershel. "Before all of this?"

A few minutes ago, I hesitantly decided to take Glenn's advice about my sliced hand. The one with its bloody fingers on the surface of the small table, lying opened towards Hershel's squinting eyes.

The impatient man sucks in a breath, noticing my apprehensiveness.

"All the time." His country accent slowly sounds out in a mutter. The man's words enunciate as if he's speaking to a child.

I guess I'm just short of feeling like a scared little toddler, as the man pours peroxide on my wound. The stinging doesn't phase my mind, because it knows what's going to come next.

The needle.

My eyes watch the man wipe the tip of the curved suturing needle with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball. He then picks up a small pair of pliers, fastening the small needle in its grip.

I can't bring myself to look away as he lowers the pliers closer to my skin. Trying to keep my eyes from widening doesn't prove too successful, as I also subconsciously inch my hand farther away.

"Dear," Hershel starts. "You'll have to keep still, if you want it to get better."

Gulping down a lump in my throat, I say nothing. My nervous eyes continue to gape at the man in front of me.

The man leans in closer, offering me a gentle smile from just above his white beard. "I bet it won't feel as bad as this."

Hershel leans back in his chair and slightly sticks out his nub of a leg, putting it within my vision.

My lips curve into a small, involuntary smile.

"Sorry." I hesitantly lower the back of my hand down to the surface of the table, allowing the man to have at it.

Except this time, I look away. My eyes fix themselves on the corner of his cell.

"So," The man starts, just as the needle pierces into the skin of my ring finger. "I've been told that you and the boy found all this stuff."

"Yes sir, I even found the suture kit." I sigh, my eye twitching from the slight pain of the needle. "Guess it came in handy." My nervous chuckle sounds out.

Hershel offers a pity laugh, before I can feel the man move onto the gash on my middle finger. "I notice you say suture, and not stitch. Do you have some kind of medical doctorate that I don't know about?" He chuckles.

Although I don't know what doctorate means, I can assume the rest of his question from the doctor part of the word.

"No, sir," I shake my head, keeping my eyes averted from my hand. "I just did a little time in the infirmary. Before."

"You don't have to keep calling me sir, dear." His southern dialect forming words that immediately put me on the spot. "It makes me feel a little old."

I slightly stretch out the corners of my nervous lips, pulling them closed. "Sorry."

My eyes find their way to Hershel, as his eyes flick upwards from my hand, landing on my face. "And you don't have to keep apologizing, either."

I offer him a small smile. "Okay."

The man lets out a single breath of a laugh, before returning the needle to the skin of my pointer finger. This time I curiously allow myself to watch.

A few silent moments pass as the man quickly fastens the suture, before his eyes once again look up to meet mine. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yeah, actually." I huff. "Although it's making me a little lightheaded."

"No need to worry," The man stretches out the words, as he uses his scissors to snip the thread on the second suture on the skin of my pointer finger. "I'm all done."

I pull my hand away from the surface of the table, and bring it closer to my eyes. Examining the small knots just above the thin, closed wounds doesn't scare me as much as I'd first thought.

Offering the man a nod, I stand from my seat on his bottom bunk, and begin to walk towards the corridor.

The man clears his throat. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

My feet stop in their tracks, just before I can make my way out of the cell. I look over my shoulder and chuckle, offering the man another nod.

"Thank you."

☆

The mood in the cell block leaves doom to linger as the group mourns the deaths of three of their own, just a few days ago.

Lori died during the birth of her baby girl. T-dog was eaten alive. Carol is nowhere to be found since entering the tombs alongside him.

Everyone in the group remains inside the corridor of cell block C except for myself, Rick and Carl. Apparently Rick lost it after hearing about Lori's fate, losing every grasp he has on reality. And—as for Carl—the boy just sits in silence, presumably angry at the world.

Making my way up the stairwell in the guard tower, I finally push open the latch. After pulling myself into the cabin, I walk over to the railing, sitting with my feet dangling over the edge.

A few walkers straggle around in the horizon as I scan the area. My hand pulls out my loaded pistol from the holster that Daryl gifted to me. The man had also given me a run-down of how to properly aim and operate the weapon.

I place the pistol on the floor, next to my thigh.

After the measures I'd taken to blend in with the group, more and more of its members have slowly taken their time to try to include me as one of their own. Hence, my possession of a loaded weapon.

My thoughts about the gun come to a close as I hear the latch on the floor open. I tense up, expecting it to be Maggie, who often takes watch in this same tower.

The stubborn woman is one of the few who has not quite warmed up to my presence yet.

My nerves only somewhat ease as I see a small hand reach up out of the opening and place a sheriff's hat on the floor of the small room. Carl then pulls himself up into the tower, before standing up to his feet.

When he notices me, I see a look of disdain and regret on his face before he immediately turns around and begins to climb back down into the opening in the floor.

As a result of the boy being missing in action, I have yet to find out if he's one of the members who blames me for what happened to his people. His own mother.

"Stay," I say sharply, before he can leave. "I need eyes on that side." I say, motioning to the ledge opposite the one I'm sitting at. "There's no use going all the way to the east tower."

Carl swiftly makes eye contact with me, pulling himself up once again and closing the latch on the floor. He sighs, turning around and standing against the railing opposite mine.

We sit in the quiet, our backs turned to each other for several minutes. The same silence the boy originally came here to sulk in. Except, my presence is now in the way of that. Just like it got in the way of his group's happiness just a few days ago.

My guilt worsens with every passing second of silence until something in my mind tells me to break it.

"T-dog is the reason that I'm still here." I mutter, leaning my head toward my left shoulder, projecting my voice to the boy. "He got your dad to let me and my people stay. He was a nice guy."

"And he got killed for it." Carl spits bluntly, not bothering to turn around as I hear his voice echo in the opposite direction of me.

We sit in another silence, this one slightly more tense than the first, because this is the first he's said anything to anyone in days.

"I heard about your mom." I say, trying to appeal to the boy. My guilt not allowing me to sit in the awkward silence.

I turn around and take notice of his fixed gaze upon the field eastward of the prison. He seems to have taken no effect of my words, although I know he hears me.

"It isn't fair." I mutter. I turn my head around to see him leaning one ear towards my voice.

"Like you would understand." He mutters back in a small, blunt voice, slightly shaking his head. Not one ounce of emotion in his tone. "You don't have anything to lose."

A few moments of silence loom over the tense cabin of the guard tower. I decide to pick my battles, allowing the grieving boy this one, snappy statement.

Although his words send several thoughts running throughout my mind, they're not personally meant to hurt me. And that's what's important, no matter how they make me feel.

"I get it." I slightly raise my hands in surrender, although he isn't looking at me.

"You have your dad and a baby sister." I state, although Beth primarily takes care of the baby and Rick has been missing in action. "You have a group of people to look up to. I didn't." I say, unapologetically agreeing with the boy.

"I don't look up to them," He sharply says. "They look down on me. There's a difference."

Although his angry words aren't said in a positive light, I take the revealing statements as nothing short of slight progress.

I stand up from my seated position and turn around, leaning backwards on the railing, but now facing the boy with his back turned to me.

"Pretty soon they're going to start doing the same to you." He mutters. "Now that they consider you one of us, you're going to be seen as the incapable kid always causing trouble." He says in a mocking manner.

I can clearly tell by just being near these people for a few weeks, that this—in fact—is somewhat how they treat him.

"They want what's best for you." I argue back. "The only thing harder than a childhood in a world like this, is probably raising one."

"That's the thing about this world." He says.

He then slowly walks towards the latch on the ground, kneeling and grasping the handle, not bothering to look at me. "There are no childhoods, anymore."

My eyes continue to squint at the boy just before he makes his exit.

"Not that I'd expect you to get it."

☆

Some talk of a group meeting lingered around the prison that morning. The gossip left me wondering if I'd be included, considering how awkward my current standing is with them.

After Maggie came all the way out to the guard tower to find me, I'd managed to find a small bit of belonging as I made my way to the meeting.

The group now stands in the corridor, listening to the things that we must all do, in order to settle down further. According to Rick, the group plans on going on a run, clearing the fences of walkers and finding a few more vehicles.

I can't help but sit and watch as Rick assigns the rest of the group tasks, while he, Glenn and Daryl prepare to leave for a run. He tells the some of people that aren't leaving what they need to do in order to protect the place.

Rick begins to walk off. That leaves myself, Carl, Beth and the baby in the corridor, with nothing to do.

"Wait!" I call after him. The man stops in his tracks, turning around to look down at me. "What can I do to help?" I fold my arms over my chest, a bit nervous under the leader's gaze.

Rick turns around. The man slightly paler in the face than before. The bags under his eyes appear darker as he makes eye contact with me.

"Stay put," He says in his thick, southern accent. "Preferably inside the cell block, with the baby. Or you could take watch with Maggie in the east tower." He finalizes, before walking off.

I turn back around, facing the cells. Beth soon walks into hers, holding the nameless baby.

Carl then walks towards a bunk, being sure to give me an annoyed—yet satisfied—glare. As if to follow up with me, letting me know that he's right about what he said earlier.

I notice as he comfortably shuffles around inside the cell, taking a few items out of his pockets and placing them on the metal side table in the corner of it.

"Is that your cell now?" I call over to him, still standing in the middle of the corridor.

He stops what he's doing and looks at me, a harsh glare still written all over his face.

"What do you think?"

☆

The group is notified of Glenn and Maggie's disappearance as the new woman we're keeping secluded in the common room of the cell block speaks of the Asian man and pretty girl.

After Rick and Carl brought in this woman who held the basket of baby food, the rest of us centered around and made a game plan to travel to the corrupted town to get their people back.

Once again, Rick, the woman, and the majority of the group leaves for the run, leaving us kids, Hershel, the baby, and of course, Carol, who has recently been found, to be on fence duty.

Beth, Carl and I are left in silence.

The silence is broken when we hear a slight burp coming from Judith. Beth walks up to Carl, extending the baby in her arms to him.

"Here, take her." She says, waiting for Carl to take his baby sister. "She just threw up on me. Hold her while I go change my shirt." She stands, leaning in a way to stop the vomit from dropping down her shirt.

Carl rapidly shakes his head, avoiding eye contact with her.

"Please?" Beth pleads, seemingly having no other choice.

The boy hesitantly reaches out his arms for his own sister. As Beth runs off, he carefully places the baby on his lap, as far away from his own body as possible.

Although looking physically uncomfortable, Carl looks at his sister with disdain as she sits in his minimal embrace. I study the scene and notice the babbling baby reaching for her own brother's embrace. She never gets what she wants as he keeps her steadily away from his torso.

I wonder what a cold heart this kid must have to not admire a baby in a world like this. In addition to being a rare sight, she is also his sister and his blood.

"Here," I hear Beth say from the other side of the cell block. "Maggie found some clothes for me on a run. Thought you'd like to get out of that jumpsuit." She says, extending a pile of folded clothing in my direction as she leaves her cell.

I stare at her for a while.

I'd always imagined that getting to change out of my jumpsuit meant that I'd be leaving the prison for good. I guess my sentence is over one way or another.

"Uh," I stand up from the seat at the metal table. "Thank you, Beth. I really appreciate it." I manage to say, extending both of my arms and grabbing the pile of clothes.

Beth swiftly takes Judith out of Carl's lap after our exchange. I look over and realize how fixated Carl must've been on the baby to not even realize Beth re-entering the room.

The boy looks disheveled and uncomfortable as Judith is taken from his grasp. He stands up and immediately walks into his cell, swinging his curtain shut.

I brush off the odd exchange that just happened and enter my own cell, right next door. Closing my curtain and placing my clothes on the metal side table in the room, I begin taking my jumpsuit off.

It had previously been tied at my waist, fully exposing my white tank top. The material weighing myself down with every step, due to its thickness and the accumulation of my sweat.

After slipping into the clean clothes given to me by Beth, I instantly feel lighter on my feet.

The thick jumpsuit no longer drags me down as I'm granted somewhat of a new beginning.

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2783 words

A/N

it's about time Megan makes friends in the prison.

also HERSHEL IS THE GRANDPA WE ALL WANT AND NEED OKAY

IM SORRY ITS TAKING ME SO LONG TO EDIT THESE CHAPTERS!! PLEASE HAVE PATIENCE!!

☆official reminder to leave a vote pretty please ☆