↳ 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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The afternoon sun is warm on my cheeks as I look up to the sky. I close my eyes, soaking it all in for a moment. I'd be okay if the golden orb never went away.
My leg is throbbing in pain, but I don't seem to feel it as much when I have a distraction as beautiful as the world around me right now. Everything feels more at ease - almost peaceful in an odd way. There's still turmoil in my mind as far as how my friends are doing after the fall of the prison, but I have a piece of calmness finally with me. The beauty of today reminds me of being in the prison yard. For it being such a gloomy place in the start, we made it into a cozy home the best we could. Now, I can't help but miss it.
"There were people," I hear Rick whisper to Michonne. They're staying quiet as they walk and talk behind me and Carl, but I can still hear their words. I'm used to having to listen in since the adults tend to only talk to each other and leave us out. "They seemed dangerous. I had to kill one to get out." This makes me pop my eyes open wide out of shock, but I try to close them again so that they don't notice I was eavesdropping. They're treating us like children, but that doesn't really surprise me. We get treated like that a lot.
"You had to do it," Michonne replies, her tone sounding warm. "Don't feel bad." There's a few more exchanges of words I cannot hear before I grow bored, toss my lollipop stick onto the ground, and I turn to Carl, who's walking beside me.
"Have you ever killed anyone?" I ask. My voice is low and we're far enough in front of them for our conversation to go unheard, but I'm sure the slight shake of my voice is audible for Carl to hear.
Carl looks at me seriously, lips held in a tight line, before diverting his blue eyes back to the ground. "I have," he mutters finally, acting dejected about the matter.
So, the words I once heard years ago at the prison are true. Carl really has killed someone. I had doubted it at first, maybe because I didn't want it to be real. He didn't seem like the kind of person I used to know - like the one who would rather run as far away as he could than hurt someone. Then again, people have changed. I guess it's not far-fetched to think that people could grow up and be different. I've changed. It's not like I haven't seen the darkness lurk onto Carl's expressions, either. Even so, I had never wanted to ask him about the matter at the time because I didn't really know how to go about starting a conversation like that.
It takes a lot of pain to want to take someone's life.
"When?"
"Back at the prison." He pauses to look at the sky as if surveying his sentence before it comes out. Maybe the clouds have the answer as they dismally float by. "Before a few days ago. It was just a boy during the first raid. I thought he should be dead." The words are simple, like they're just black and white, but I know it's anything but that. I think about how horrible that would feel: stabbing a wound or pulling the trigger that caused someone to suck their last breath of air in.
