Author: PrintDust PM
Maybe Hell was rusted rotting pipes- drip, drip, dripping, lying in your own caked blood, and hope just a little out of reach. From the end of 3X04- Killer Within. Explores multiple POVs. Chapter 18- LoriRated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Daryl D. & Rick G. - Chapters: 18 - Words: 44,382 - Reviews: 271 - Favs: 26 - Follows: 39 - Updated: 02-04-13 - Published: 11-06-12 - id: 8680597
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I decided to pull this story down and repost it. I want to consolidate some of the chapters and make some corrections and alterations. I appreciate your patience through this process.
Lori couldn't stop shivering. The concrete floor she was lying on was cold beneath her and there was something digging into the small of her back. A soft groan escaped her lips and she tried to open her eyes, but when she did the room was blurry, as though she was looking at it through a fish tank. She wondered if she had fallen, but her hand wouldn't co operate when she tried to lift it to inspect her head. Closing her eyes again she tried to focus on the room, her ears straining for any sound. She could hear shuffling somewhere in the distance and dripping from above her. She tried to lift her hand again but it felt stuck, like she had been glued to the floor.
"What the-" her voice sounded scratchy and thick. Opening her eyes again, she squinted at the light filtering through the windows to her right, then lifted her head slowly to inspect her sticky hand. Her mind worked slowly, trying to wrap itself around what she was seeing.
A lot of it. Hers? But why was she bleeding?
Her hip felt tender and she used her other hand to explore the area where the pain was radiating from. Her fingers tingled as they felt around clumsily until she came into contact with the offending object. Giving it a tug she pulled it free from beneath her and lifted it for inspection.
"Carl," she whispered, inspecting her son's knife.
Eyes widening she dropped the knife to her side as shock swept over her. The light shiver coursing through her body intensified, becoming a hard shake. Squeezing her eyes shut she bit her lip against the pain that built steadily, throbbing in her lower abdomen.
"Maggie," she whispered, the word trailing off into a deep groan.
Opening her eyes she felt the world drop out from under her and the edges of her vision blurred. Fighting the blackness, she willed herself to stay conscious. Slowly, she peeled her right arm free from the blood that was quickly drying around her. Her left arm was next and she unsteadily positioned them behind her, pushing herself up in the process.
Her heart pumped furiously in her chest as she inspected the incision site. Her abdomen, splayed open, oozed in sync with her beating heart. Horror gripped her as she raked her eyes over her belly, the skin torn jaggedly, pulled back to reveal fatty tissue and her insides.
The world swayed again and she dropped onto her back, panic overwhelming her. She was alive, but she wouldn't be for long. Her breath came quickly and she whimpered at the pain and the cold.
"Please," she whispered, unsure of what she was asking for. "Please," she tried again, the words cut short as a sob escaped her, and then another, and another. "I'm supposed to be dead."
The next time she was aware of anything, it was the feeling of her ears ringing. Something had slammed loudly. Taking a deep breath, Lori opened her eyes and grimaced. The pool of blood had dried further and she fought back a wave of nausea. As disconnected and lightheaded as she felt, she was still aware enough to know that it would do her no good to throw up while she was stuck on her back.
Ears still ringing from a sound she wasn't even sure she had truly heard, she listened hard. The first thing that struck her at the sound of the light scuffle was fear. Squeezing her eyes closed she continued to hold her breath, waiting for the damn thing to pounce on her and eat her alive.
The weight of the Walker hit her side hard and fast. Bony knees collided with her hip, jarring her lower body and she braced herself for the pain of having her already abused abdomen shredded further. She listened to the things ragged breathing and waited, one second, then two, and then three too many.
Finally, she opened her eyes and registered quickly the pale slender face looming over her. The thin woman leapt back, a gasp escaping her lips.
"Shit, you're alive," Carol paled further, her blue eyes darting over Lori's body.
The brunette felt a weak smile curl over her lips, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace. "That d-d-does," her voice shook and she swallowed hard. "Seem to be the unfortunate circumstance."
"Jesus, Lori," Carol moved quickly to her side. "Are you bit? The baby… did Walkers…"
"Abscond with it?" This time Lori let out a light chuckle, but it was a nervous one. "No, Maggie and Carl…"
"Were you bit?" Carol asked, hesitating, letting raised hands linger just above Lori's exposed uterus.
Lori shook her head, hot tears pricking her eyes. "But your hands," she winced both in pain and fear. The other woman's hands, though clearly washed, were stained almost to her elbows. "Who?" Lori finally asked, bracing her hands against the floor, not sure if she was prepared for the answer.
Carol didn't answer right away and Lori's heart skipped a beat before it began to hammer in her chest again.
"Rick?" She asked after a moment, the tears in her eyes finally spilling over and sliding down her cheeks. "Please, God," her throat tightened and the words barely made it around the lump swelling there.
"No, no," Carol shook her head and leaned in, her hand moving forward to cradle Lori's cheek. "T, it was T-Dog," her thumb swept over the trail of tears, drying the other woman's cheek. "We were separated. I haven't seen anyone else," she sat back again.
"I'm sorry," Lori whispered. "I shouldn't be relieved," she reached for Carol's hand but it was quickly pulled out of her reach.
Carol shook her head again. "I need these to be clean," she explained quickly. "And I need help."
Lori's head moved slowly as it moved from side to side. "It's too late, Carol. I can feel it-"
"You are not allowed to talk like that," Carol cut her off, her brows knitting as she turned her attention fully to the task at hand. "We need to keep you warm," she looked around the room and then let out a frustrated sigh, punctuated with a soft damnit. "I don't have anything, Lori." Carol pushed herself to her feet. "I need help."
Nodding, the brunette's lower lip wobbled as she fought back more tears. "Okay," she agreed, resolving herself to bravery. If she had survived this long, she could push through until Carol came back with help. Maybe, if she found Hershel she would actually stand a chance at making it through this. Maybe she would hold her baby and Carl again. She just needed to be brave.
Carol was already halfway up the steps when she looked over for her. The sight of her retreating back sent a shiver down her spine and she looked towards the windows to block it out. Maybe she really was dead, she mused. Maybe this was hell.
Maybe hell was rusted rotting pipes, drip, drip, dripping, lying in your own caked blood, and hope, just a little out of reach.