↳ 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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A dark strand of hair fell from behind the girl's ear to frame her face. The end of it brushed the surface of the soft page. The book in front of her was old, tattered with several rips and tears. Every once in a while, a spot would occur where part of the black print was rubbed off. It was at that point that she had to make up a word or two to fit into the blank.
Dragons. She read books about dragons. For some odd reason, she gravitated towards them, clutching the books tightly to her chest with excitement every time there was a new one to be read. She read the same, large chapter book seven times over and over about a redheaded orphan with a fiery spirit. It didn't have dragons, however, the book was just as good. It was something her mother had read to her as a child. When an old copy had shown up at the prison one day, she wasted no time to take it. When Carol told her she was more than welcome to keep the book, for nobody else in the prison had found much interest in it, she gladly accepted the offer. The thing was, this happened often, considering not many people liked to read in the prison at all. The adults were busy doing their jobs, and the other children found more exciting things to do. For the girl, she wanted everything but excitement. These days, 'excitement' was synonymous with 'danger.'
This was her eighth time reading the book. It felt different going over the words without her mom there, but it filled another gap she seemed to notice. She laid the side of her head against the back of the wooden bookshelf. It was her hideaway. It was the only place that she really enjoyed in this ugly prison. The walls were dull. The floors were dull. Despite the small pictures, newspaper, and magazine clippings she had hung to the wall of her cell, it was dull. She decided it was because she had expected so much from it. That's why it had disappointed her. The bookshelf, on the other hand, was comforting because she didn't expect anything from it. It was just the same as any other bookshelf. It was bare, of course, so it was just the same as any other bare bookshelf. From time to time, she would even bring a cluster of blankets down to the nook in order to keep her warm and comfortable.
Footsteps came running furiously from the front of the library. They ricocheted off the walls and tall shelves. "Emmie!" a voice shouted as the footsteps grew closer. The girl identified it to be Lizzie as she closed the book, keeping her index finger jammed between the pages so she wouldn't lose her place. Lizzie had only been at the prison for about a month now, but she had made her presence known around the other kids.
"Yeah?" Emmie asked quietly, lifting her head a little so she could see Lizzie 's face staring down at her from above.
"Are you reading again?" The comment wasn't meant to be offensive, but for some reason, it annoyed Emmie. Everyone always spoke about reading as if it were the most boring thing to ever exist, but it was one of the very few things she actually cared about anymore. It brought her to a whole new world, and to Emmie, being anywhere but there was a blessing.
