↳ it's who we are now...
oc x carl grimes
season 4-7
TW: Mentions of death, gory depictions, suicide, alcohol and drug abuse, language, smoking, violence, depression, and other mature topics.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own any of The Walk...
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It's funny how, whenever the world around you is falling apart before your eyes, time seems to stand still, moments caught in still images, burned together to form slow moving pictures your brain still can't seem to process as it tries to grasp onto any sort of familiarity it can understand. The struggle of trying to do so is painful, the feelings of frustration giving in much easier than I'd like them to. That's what my mind is attempting to do now as I see everything in front of me stop, frozen in place like a garden of statues, begging to be a part of my memory for the many years to come. They'll become a part of the gallery of mental images that never fail to keep me awake at night.
Well, if I can even stay alive after today.
The fence is coming down. That's all I can see in the commotion between the piercing screams and pops of gunfire filling my ears. I blink away a few tears I hadn't realized were filling my eyes, making sure I do so quickly so they don't manage to spill down my cheeks where the afternoon sun will glint off of the crystalline drops and expose the fear coursing through me to everyone else. Just the same, I think my fear would have an element of justification within it. I have every reason to be absolutely terrified right now.
I see it again, all of it right in front of me. I see the blade slicing into Hershel's neck. I see the crimson blood dripping in shiny streams down his neck where it begins to pool, staining his plain shirt. I try to focus on the other things going on, being quite aware that there are plenty, but I can't. I push away the rest. There will be sufficient amount of time for it to creep into my thoughts later. Right now, my priority needs to be making it out of here alive.
I scramble to my feet, not realizing I had fallen to begin with. Now that I've noticed such things, I can feel the rawness on my right palm from being scraped against the rough pavement. I glance at it through the fogginess that's muddled my head only to see the pinkness of raw skin that's dotted by a few speckles of fresh blood.
Ouch.
On my way up, a soft hand is grabbing my arm and pulling me along. I feel like I want to object to such things, but I can't. Instead, I let everything happen, unable to fight it away. I somehow muster up enough strength to turn my head and look to my right to see Carl. He's shouting something at me, but I can't hear what he's saying. In fact, I can't hear anything. All I can do is nod, knowing that still frames of his wide mouth yelling inaudible commands at me will be glued in my brain for later, and follow him as he takes off into a sprint towards our cell block's door. There's the sound of a thundering explosion, then cracking on the cement, that makes me want to teeter over. I think I nearly will, but Carl keeps a tight grip on my arm and I know that there isn't a chance of that. I manage to keep my balance, as well, making it to the thick metal door that marks our cell block just in time.
