❝tragic backstories and using the word "dude" romantically, that pretty much summed up carl grimes and elle coleman❞
[carl grimes x oc]
[seasons 3-11]
[not completed]
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❝The Widow's not your mother! I am!❞
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❖
"Get your ass back down!"
Elle was in a daze as she was shoved back into her place in the line. She could hear someone talking, but she couldn't process what they were saying. She knew Tommy's hand was in hers again but she couldn't feel it. It was like her entire body had gone numb as she stared at one singular person in the crowd.
She was supposed to be dead. Dead and out of Elle's life forever. Yet there she stood, clearly still not recognizing Elle. There was only one girl who would call her mom, but she was having a hard time believing how much her baby had grown up.
"Pissing our pants yet?"
Suddenly, Elle was back in the real world. She was trying to forget about her mother's presence, a task that was easier than expected. Likely because a man was now standing in front of them all, a baseball bat in his hand that was covered in barbed wire. He had to be Negan.
Elle watched as he approached Rick, her last hope that they would get out of there fading. Rick was scared shitless. His face said it all. He had no idea what was going to happen, how to defend themselves, or how to escape. And if Rick couldn't save them, no one could. Elle knew that.
Negan started pacing back and forth in front of all of them, eyeing the group up. He was going on and on about how he was going to take all their shit, how he was in charge of them now, how none of them were safe. It made Elle squeeze Tommy's hand even tighter. She had to concentrate on keeping him safe. She couldn't think about her mother standing mere feet away from her for the first time since before the apocalypse. She would go insane if she kept looking over at the blonde woman she shared a last name with.
