Rick just wanted
to give up.
It was bad enough that he had
to make the tough calls, that he had an entire group to try to keep alive, that
he’d had to put Sophia down, that he had Shane riding his ass about every
little thing every single day. If Rick said the grass was green Shane would
argue it was yellow for the sake of arguing. On top of all that he’d found
himself in yet another argument with Lori.
The one person he should be
able to count on to have his back seemed more interested in being just another
problem. The only one in the whole group who didn’t seem to be determined to
undermine him, or question him, was Daryl.
He needed to get away from
it. He needed to get away from them. He needed to just get away, period. If it
wasn’t for Carl, Rick sometimes believed he’d hop into a truck with a gun, some
ammo, and a knife and just flip them the finger as he drove away.
Rather than do that Rick
decided to take the bottle of Jack Daniels he’d pilfered from the bar and
stuffed in his pocket and head out to the barn. They’d moved Randall to the
stables for a few nights so the animals could keep him warm since it was
getting colder. A cow put off a tremendous amount of heat and he’d be more
comfortable there, for however long he had left, even if it did smell of cow
and horse shit.
Rick was glad he’d made that
decision. It would give him a place to be alone that didn’t smell. He took a
seat in the loft and looked out over the massive expanse, most of which
belonged to Hershel, at the crops that had rotted in the back fields. He
couldn’t see the decay now. It was frosted over by the watery silver light of a
quarter moon.
“You can see the stars.”
Rick jumped, startled. He’d
only been in the barn for about twenty minutes, with his mind turning over too
many thoughts, his gut churning from too many feelings that the whiskey had yet
to numb. Beth Greene, Hershel’s youngest child, had managed to sneak up on him.
He didn’t know the girl that well but he honestly didn’t want her there. Still,
it was her barn, her farm, her right to be there trumped his.
She took a seat next to him
and looked out at the sky. When she made no further effort to speak Rick
realized it wasn’t all that unpleasant to have someone there, especially since
that someone wasn’t making any demands on him or questioning him or criticizing
him. He looked down at her wrist. It was still bandaged. The stitches would
have to come out soon.
Without a word he offered her
the bottle of whiskey. Beth’s brows shot up. “I’m sixteen.”
Rick shrugged, kept the
bottle up. “You may as well be sixty with the way the world is today.”
After a moment a smile came
to her face but she shook her head and he withdrew it.
“You ain’t worried I’ll tell
my daddy?”
He shook his head. In all
honesty he didn’t care. It would be just another problem he’d have to deal
with. That thought in itself was numbing.
“Why are you up here alone?”
she asked.
“To be alone.”
She laughed this time. It was
as silvery as the moon with a pretty tinkle to it. In this lighting, with her hair
down and his head feeling a bit light from the whiskey, Rick thought Beth
looked like a beautiful angel that had coalesced from the liquid drops of
moonlight that painted the night landscape in a silver glow. He’d never seen
her with her hair down. It made her look profoundly different.
“I like your hair down,” he
said.
“Yeah? I usually put it up to
get it out of the way.”
He nodded and they resumed
their silence. Rick took another drink from the bottle. This was a big one.
Then he screwed the lid shut. He couldn’t afford to get wasted. There could be
an attack and despite his annoyance, despite his weariness, he had to be able
to act in everyone’s best interests. He had a good buzz going. He felt warm and
relaxed. That would have to do.
“You’re doing a good job.”
Rick frowned and looked at
her. “What?”
“Leading everybody? You’re
doing a good job. A damn good job.”
There was an intensity to her
voice, a sense of conviction to her words, that made Rick believe her. Well, he
believed she
believed what she was saying.
“You’re the only one who
thinks so.”
“No, I’m sure I’m not.
Everybody’s just scared. It’s easy to point fingers and be mean when you’re
scared. You’re doing the best you can and I trust you.”
“If only…”
She cocked her head to the
side and Rick looked out at the night, changing his mind about speaking,
changing his mind about giving voice to what he really thought and felt.
“What? It’s okay. Nothing you
tell me will ever leave this barn.”
She seemed so kind, so
sincere, and Rick didn’t realize how much he needed someone to confide in that
he didn’t know all that well. Beth was practically a stranger to him. This was
the most they’d talked in the weeks he’d been on her farm. More importantly she
was interested in what he had to say. That meant more to him than she could
know. It seemed nobody actually cared what he felt or thought as long as he
saved their asses. As long as he made the decisions for them so they could
bitch about those decisions when things got tough.
“If only my wife thought
that.”
Beth’s small, warm hand came
to rest on his back. “I’m sure she does.”
“She says those words but she
doesn’t believe them. She says them because she thinks she has to because she’s
my wife. She’s supposed to support me but she doesn’t.”
There. He’d said it. He’d finally voiced it. Maybe he
was wrong. Maybe his wires had been fried from all the tension and all the
anxiety and danger but that’s what he really thought. That’s what the truth was
deep in his heart.
“She doesn’t trust me.”
“She does. We all do,” Beth
insisted.
She was rubbing his back now
and it felt so good to be touched in a way that wasn’t violent or demanding.
She offered comfort with no expectations and it was so good to feel that he
thought tears would come to his eyes. Why couldn’t his own wife do this?
“She wants…”
This time Beth waited for him
to speak. She seemed to know, by instinct, this was something he could share or
not. Either way she wouldn’t push.
She wants Shane, had almost
slipped from his mouth. Perhaps the reason their relationship was falling apart
so badly was because she had Shane, kept going to Shane behind his back, and
that thought infuriated him. She’d cheated on him with his supposed best
friend. True, she’d thought Rick was dead when she did it, but he knew deep in
his soul that could she choose, Lori would choose Shane.
“She wants something else,”
he finished. “Something that isn’t me. I’m not what or who she wants anymore.
Who she needs. That’s something I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Beth said
softly. “We’ve both been through so much lately. I think I knew you were
hurting. I’m hurting too. That’s why I came here. I figured we could both be
miserable together and maybe somehow that would make us less miserable. I don’t
know. Stupid, huh?”
“No, not at all,” he
answered, sincere.
The buzz in his head
intensified just a little as the whiskey in his stomach was digested. The hand
on his back felt good but his mood was shifting. Beth’s touch had gone from
soothing to arousing and he wasn’t sure how to ask her to stop. He felt a surge
of need, of lust, and he knew he should have felt ashamed for that feeling but
he didn’t.
He looked at her. She was
beautiful in the moonlight, with her hair like a golden nimbus around her head
and shoulders and her eyes looking like blue pools of light in her pale face.
She looked a lot older than she was. Or perhaps the whiskey simply made him not
care. Perhaps it had lowered his inhibitions a little too much.
Without thinking he reached
out and drew Beth to him, pressing his lips to hers. She stiffened at once,
taken by surprise. One of her hands came to rest on his chest, putting pressure
there, trying to encourage him to let her go. He didn’t until she really pushed
against him and pulled away. She got to her feet and he did likewise, his head
spinning from the alcohol in his blood that rushed over his body. He’d had more
to drink than he’d thought.
“Beth…I’m sorry.”
She was staring up at him.
She was a tall girl, not much shorter than him, so he didn’t feel like some
perverse bully towering over her.
“I just…”
“I get it,” she said. “You’ve
been drinking and you’re down and…”
He reached for her, wanting
to merely take her shoulders and speak, to apologize, to make things right, but
when he touched her the heat from the whiskey pooled in his loins and he
realized he was hard. Achingly hard.
“Beth…”
He’d pulled her to him again.
This time she didn’t put her hands up in protest. This time she didn’t pull
away. He wondered what she thought of him now. How much of her respect had he
lost? He liked to think of himself as moral, noble, but when it really came
down to it he was a man.
“Lori and I haven’t…since the
CDC in Atlanta…I just—”
To Rick’s utter surprise her
small, warm hand came to rest against his crotch where she began to rub. He
moaned, his eyes closed. He’d like to blame this on the whiskey but the truth
was he wasn’t as drunk as he should be to lower his inhibitions enough to want
to fuck a sixteen-year-old girl. His hosts baby daughter. This wasn’t just the
whiskey. This was something else, something that was perhaps dark, but also
something he couldn’t fight.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
He didn’t know if he was
speaking to her or himself. In the end it wasn’t going to matter. Being sorry
didn’t stop him from kissing her, from plunging his tongue into her mouth and
putting his hands on her ass, from pinning her to the wall before sliding down
with her. Being sorry didn’t stop him from undressing her, from seeking out her
pussy and licking and lapping at her folds. Sorry didn’t stop Rick from slipping
his fingers inside of her, feeling she wasn’t a virgin, and feeling relieved
that he wasn’t her first.
Being sorry didn’t stop Rick
from enjoying every single moan and gasp of need that came from Beth’s young,
moist mouth. It did nothing to stop him from yanking off his shirt and rolling
it as a pillow to place under her head before he undid his jeans and pulled her
legs up. It did nothing to stop him from pushing deep into her and moaning as
her hot, wet flesh accepted him, clenched around him, and encouraged him to
thrust.
He stared into her eyes the
entire time. He gripped her thighs so hard he thought she’d probably have
bruises in the morning. He pounded into Beth with wild abandon and he felt her
body clench around his, felt her juices flow, smelled her arousal and saw her
eyes close and her face melt into an expression of bliss before he came deep
inside of her. He sighed her name as he found release. Or perhaps he moaned it.
He wasn’t consciously sure.
He released her legs and she
lay there, her feet on the floor, her knees up, looking at him. He had the
excuse of whiskey but she’d been stone cold sober. He expected something from
her. A curse, a glare, some kind of accusation. He expected her to feel guilty
and then blame him. Why not? Everybody else always did.
None of that happened.
Instead she sat up and kissed him softly on the lips. They dressed in silence
and Rick stared out at the landscape outside of the loft. It looked like a wet
painting that would never quite dry. Beth put her hand on his back.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Stop being sorry.”
“You gonna tell me everyone
makes mistakes?”
“Everyone does make
mistakes,” Beth agreed. “We didn’t make a mistake. We were hurting. We got away
from it for awhile, is all. I don’t regret it. Neither should you.”
She placed a kiss on his
cheek and then descended the ladder. Rick sat back down, letting his legs
dangle from the open window, and he picked the bottle of whiskey back up, ready
to dump the contents to the ground below. He thought about what just happened
and how maybe in the morning he’d feel guilty. To his relief he found he agreed
with Beth. They’d both been hurting. Now he wasn’t. That was a good thing.
Fuck it. Fuck staying sober
for everyone else. Fuck making every decision based on the needs of others all
the time. Rick unscrewed the lid off the whiskey and took another swig. It
didn’t make sense to let good whiskey go to waste.
No comments:
Post a Comment