• Rain's POV:
Your eyelids slowly creaked open, a sudden pain rushing through your head as your left eye's practically swollen shut. For you quickly shut your eyes again, your entire body aching, locked in an uncomfortable position.
Preparing the strength to move, your process is interrupted by a cough coming from somewhere elsewhere in the room, your eyes open in a flash. The room was filthy, a simple space with only four gray walls, cracks running down from the crumbling ceiling.
In the corner across from your's, a man stands near the doorway, buckling his belt. You panic, and painfully attempt to stand up, only to be yanked back by your left hand, which was handcuffed to a rusty pipe lining the wall.
Fastening his watch, the man chuckles, noticing the sound of clanging metal which you were producing, "Morning Princess."
"Don't fucking call me that, now where the hell am I?" Sitting up in the pallets, you gulp, your throat dry.
Strolling over, adjusting his pistol, he bares his yellow teeth, "You were great if you were wondering."
"What-"
His hand slams over your mouth as a familiar voice booms from the other room, "Got some squirrel here, Joe. We leaving yet?" Daryl.
You use your one hand in a desperate escape to pry Joe's off, only ending in him also trapping your hand. "Be right there Daryl, just head out with the boys," once you hear your only hope walk clumsily out the door, "Oh, he a little friend of your's?" Joe taunts you in the tone of his voice, steadily releasing his hand.
You yell, "Dar-" Joe quickly slaps you in the face, you immediately becoming dizzy.
"You try after us and I'll kill you and the redneck," you nod, tears silently flowing down your tender face. Joe reaches into his pocket, taking out a small key.
He slowly leans over, his hot breath steaming up the side of your face, "Now I'm going to let you and give you this revolver for your fantastic...services," you let out a sob, he continues, "Now I'll unlock these here cuffs in two seconds, so when I do let you go," Joe laughs, "Don't hurt me alright? Don't hurt your lover."
In one swift motion, Joe releases the cuffs and flees the room, leaving you, bony back against the cold wall, crouching in the corner.
Shaking, your scarred wrists also quake as they hug your knees. Unable to stop yourself, you cry, cold and alone, as your pants and jacket are nowhere to be found.
Once the sun has begun to set, you leave the room, limping and in search for supplies. Once you've obtained a large pair of hunting pants and a small backpack containing a water bottle, you notice the blood seeping through the back of your shirt.
Touching the edge of it, the slash stings a little, yet is not too deep of a wound. Not able to do anything about it, you leave it, and abandon the warehouse.
"Back on the road," you take in the brilliant sky while walking on the dirt path, knowing that somewhere, Carl's seeing it too.
• Carl's POV:
"Don't slow down now," Michonne and I have been running through the woods, evading a herd of walkers for the past ten minutes.
"But I think we lost them," it was true, I haven't heard the growls at all recently.
She pedals backwards to face me, "I know, but the campsite's coming up and we need to meet your dad before it becomes too dark." I nod and she spins back around. For a little while longer, we continue to jog through the trees, eventually finding dad at the site along the tracks, already with a set up fire.
