The Ghost of Me

I gripped a pair of scissors tight between my fingers as I held onto a chunk of my hair. I stared into the mirror, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth as I talked myself up. I pulled my blonde hair over my shoulder, looking at it one last time. It draped over my collarbone, falling all the way down to my belly button. The two lights that hung over the bathroom mirror shone just right so I could finally see those hidden red streaks Daryl always pointed out.

"It's just hair," I said quietly to myself.

I don't know why I had such a hard time letting go of it, if anything my hair being this long only got in the way. But, I guess it was the comfort of having it, hiding behind it. It was like a security blanket. Then I thought about how stupid that sounded. How my hair wasn't my security at all. I thought about everything I have gone through, the good, the bad, the horrible. It felt like a punch in the gut thinking back to being in that room with the Governor. And it made me physically ill thinking about being strapped to the table in Terminus. It felt like my hair was holding the weight-- the memories-- of it all.

With one last inhale, I grabbed onto a strand and started cutting. One after another I watched as chunks of blonde hair fell into the sink and around my feet on the floor. The further I cut the more relieved I felt. By the time I was done, my hair was back to its original length before all of this. The ends hung right around the base of my shoulder blades. It was a dumb thought to have, but I felt empowered again. The simple act of cutting the dead weight made me feel as if I was claiming my life back. Alexandria was a fresh start and I was embracing that.

After cleaning up the mess I had made on the floor from my hair, I ventured back to my room to get ready for the night. My room. What a weird thing to think. Looking over at the clock I realized I did not have much time left to get ready. Deanna had requested all of us over to her house as she planned to host a welcoming party for us. It sounded bearable, a general meet and greet for us and the rest of the town. Although, some of us were more open to the idea than others. Daryl, being one of the others.

I wish he was more open to this. I understand why he's not though. He thinks he belongs on the outside. His entire life has basically been spent on the outside. So, pretending to be happy in these cookie-cutter homes with welcoming parties and community pride was not going to be him. I just thought he'd be a little more content with it. Or at least content enough to move into a room with me, but he still did not move from that couch.

Shaking the thoughts from my mind I scavenged through my bedroom closet for something to wear. There wasn't much, but Deanna left everything they could in each house's closest along with gathering up clothes on supply runs overtime. I pushed a couple of hangers to the side, coming across a few t-shirts, one or two pairs of jeans, and a cardigan, before my hand brushed across a thin black material. I pulled the hanger from the bar, holding up a sleek black dress. It wasn't anything fancy, but Deanna did say we could look nice if we wanted to.

I slipped my legs into the black material, sliding the dress up my body and pulling the two straps over my shoulders. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it was pretty damn close. The fabric hung tight to my body, other than falling loosely around my waist. It was meant to be a casual bodycon dress, falling just at the knee. If I was at my usual weight, the dress would have fit like a glove. A grin slipped up the side of my face as my hands ran down the material, I hadn't felt this way in a very long time. The feeling was exciting and warm and I chased it. I walked back into the bathroom, pulling out a tube of mascara and coating my lashes. I wasn't about to go crazy with it, but even just the small amount of mascara changed my face completely. It felt like my eyes popped open again after months of being permanently glazed over from sleep deprivation.

I feel ready now. I slipped my feet into a pair of flats, having no confidence in my ability to wear heels, and made my way over to Deanna's house. The walk wasn't long, just down the street and around the corner. I could hear the chatter of people's voices as I walked up the front lawn, the majority of the town would be here tonight. I could see through the open blinds people standing around in groups already deep into conversation. The sun had set by now, making it easy to see just how many people Deanna had over from the light inside. Maggie stood by the window, laughing with a group of women I had never seen before. She would be good at this, her Southern accent charming anyone she spoke to with even a simple hello. I began to grow nervous as I reached for the front door. I walked in slowly, the warmth of the room hitting me immediately. A soft tune of a piano played in the background as people's voices floated through the room. Deanna had a table set up on the far side of the living room, holding platters of appetizers and different alcoholic beverages.

"Oh, my," Glenn's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He was walking up to me with Michonne, his hand already reaching out to touch my hair like he didn't believe it unless he felt it. "I remember you," he laughed.

I chuckled, running my hands through my own hair, "I'm a good shot, I never miss," I said, referring back to the first thing I ever said to them on day one. When I last looked like this.

"And I'm just a boy who delivers pizzas," Glenn snorted.

"I need a drink," I exhaled harshly, glancing around the room again at all the people I didn't know.

"Come on," Michonne smiled, leading me over to the table, "It's not that bad."

I poured myself a glass of red wine before spotting Lincoln across the room. I was making my way over to him when a woman stepped in front of me, stopping me.

"Hi. I don't believe we've met yet? My name is Vivian," she cooed, a large smile beaming across her freckle-covered face.

"My name is Scar," I smiled as best I could. Her overly friendly demeanour made me somewhat uncomfortable.

"So nice to meet you. You know, the ladies and I always put together a welcoming dish for each of the new arrivals. Just a little something to show you that you are a part of our community now," she said as she placed her hand on my shoulder. It seemed like out of thin air more women appeared around me as they heard her talking about it.

"So, what is your favourite meal? It can be anything you want," another woman said. Her short curly hair bounced as she spoke.

"Oh, I don't know," I stuttered.

"Surely you can think of something that you like," a petite blonde-haired woman shook her head.

I felt my mouth fall open as the words failed to come out. I didn't know what to tell them. I couldn't remember the last time I thought about what I liked to eat or what my favourite dish was. I only remember praying that I come across anything of substance in the next couple of days to just get me by.

"Ladies, why don't we just surprise her? Who doesn't like surprises?" A man's voice budded in. He placed his hand very gently on the small of my back and guided me away from the conversation. "Sorry," he said as he pulled his hand away from me once we were out of earshot. "You just looked like you needed saving from that."

I looked up at the man that towered over me. His short brown hair curled slightly at the roots and he had the faint shadow of a beard peaking through. He looked to be a little older than I, maybe in his late twenties. "Thank you," I muttered.

"I'm Spencer," he grinned down at me, "Deanna's other son. Her more mature son," he laughed.

I half-heartedly chuckled, "Scar," I responded.

"I know. I heard you were the one to put Aiden on his ass," he raised his eyebrows. He then spoke a little quieter, "I really wish I was there to see it."

I laughed at his response before my eyes caught a glimpse of someone behind him. "Sorry, will you excuse me?" I said, walking around him and out onto the front porch. I didn't wait for a reply from Spencer before I was already out the door. "Are you coming in?" I called out to Daryl as he leaned against a tree on the front lawn. He looked up at me, picking at his nails like he had already been contemplating that question for himself.

"You look really nice," he responded, disregarding my question. I could feel the frustration start to bubble up inside me again. Why did he do this to me? Why did he push me away until I got to this point of shouting everything I felt at him all at once? I guess I do it to myself too though. I wait until I can't take the thoughts any longer.

"Why won't you try?!" I yelled at him. "This is what we wanted! This is everything we worked for!" I could see him shaking his head from the light glow bouncing off his face from the house. "Why won't you try?"

"I am tryin'!" he shouted back. "I'm here, ain't I?"

"Standing outside is not trying. Spending every day keeping watch on the porch is not trying. Sleeping on the couch is not trying," I fought.

He walked forward, coming further into the light yet still hiding well behind his hair like he always did, "This is not what I signed up for. Some damn tea parties and small talk with the village idiots ain't gonna help no one," he shouted while pointing past me towards the people inside. I scoffed, crossing my arms. "What do you want from me, Red?"

"I want you to give this place a shot. A real shot," I answered. He was quiet, not wanting to agree to it. He was being stubborn as always, but I was a fair fight for him. The longer he went without saying anything the more infuriated I became. The question crawled up my throat and I couldn't stop myself from asking it. "Do you love me--"

"That ain't fair, Red!" he yelled, cutting me off. I saw it in his eyes, what I was asking from him was unfair. Even though I was still fuming I accepted my defeat as I knew I pushed it too far. I huffed out a breath of frustration as I watched him walk off. I turned around, walking back inside.

I instantly gulped back the rest of my wine as I walked back into the living room, wondering how the hell I was going to get through the rest of this night now. My first plan of action was to get a refill. I weaved through groups of people around the room, standing over the purple table cloth as I now poured whiskey into a glass. I took a sip from it, my face scrunching up at the taste as the liquid burned my throat. I needed to be with people I know. I turned around scanning the room for my brother in particular.

My eyes then landed on a ghost in the middle of the room. I was taken aback, doing a double and then a triple take like my eyes were deceiving me. It felt like my feet had become rooted into the hardwood floor as I watched the petite woman stomp across the room towards me. I was in shock, I couldn't speak or move as she approached me.

Without any warning she threw her hand back, her palm flying across the left side of my face and whipping my head to the side to cradle the blow. My mouth flew open, my hand immediately cupping the hot skin she had just slapped. The room fell silent, I could feel everyone's eyes on us. My head turned back towards her as I held my cheek.

"You killed him!" she screamed at me. "You killed Roy! If it wasn't for you he would have never gone back out there!" her voice screeched as she cried. I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes as she yelled at me. Lincoln appeared from behind her, holding onto our sister-in-law by the waist as he tried to pull her away from me. "He's dead because of you, Scar!"