despite being safely in Alexandria, you couldn't sleep.

It had been 3, maybe 4 days. Things were starting to blur together. you were part of the Atlanta group and had lasted this long. None of your family did. They'd been picked off over time. That's what made it so hard.

every time you looked in the mirror, dust collecting on the desk and varying cracks in the glass, you saw all who you'd lost. In you, you saw your parents, your siblings. And that made it all the more difficult to let go.

it was starting to take a toll, and others had noticed. Though they didn't know how to mention it. How do you ask someone if they're okay in an apocalypse? They're obviously not, and there's no way to prevent that.

your skin was paler than normal, dark rings weighed on your eyes, a clear depiction of how exhausted you felt. But a part of you didn't care. A part of you had stopped caring long ago. instead of trying to sleep you'd do different things, chipping at the paint on the walls with your nails, or just talking to yourself.

it was hard to imagine getting better. Actually feeling happy was foreign, faded. A memory that you'd lost reminiscence of. Just like your mother's voice.