Bad feelings are one part of what sucks about this world. Good feelings are the other. Because the good stuff is what can get taken from you, the rug that gets pulled out from under you. A warming feeling that, once it's gone, leaves you out in the...
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M E G A N
Tight, sticky bandages pull on the bruised skin of my back with every labored step I take through these woods. Luckily, my loose shirt doesn't irritate my fresh wounds as I was able to find a men's size large in one of the dressers back at the house.
More and more crunching twigs fill the silence between me and Carl. The boy and I haven't spoken much since we made the decision to return to the prison last night.
It might also be because we were forced to get a bit up close and personal in the bathroom.
Evidently, the boy is very fearful of something. I don't think it has much to do with having to see the group again. If one person has the nerve to shamelessly show their face after pulling something like we did, it's Carl Grimes.
His profound confidence in his decisions is one of the many things that frustrates me about him, yet it's also a bit admirable. I've never seen him as unsure as he has been about our decision to go back.
Despite my objections, the boy was adamant on still leaving nearly all of our supplies in the house, just in case.
To me, it seemed pointless to leave them there knowing that we'd be safe at the prison in a few minutes. Carl said we could always go back and get the supplies or even send someone else from the group to go get them.
I was concerned about unnecessarily traveling back into the dangerous town, but he said to trust him on this. And I do trust Carl, despite how I make it seem.
Although I trust in his decision, I know that I'm not getting the full story on why he wanted to leave the supplies. His fear and uncertainty about the trip back to the prison leaves me to think that he's considering an outcome that I'm completely oblivious to.
"Heads up," He whispers.
I whip my head around to see yet another walker approaching us. The weak creature hobbles slowly while I break our formation to walk toward it. I grab its bony shoulder and study it for a moment before putting it down with my dull knife.
The closer we get to the prison, the more and more walkers we come across. Some of them are hot to-the-touch, others even have visible steam evaporating from their burnt skin.
Returning back to our formation, I notice the boy facing a handful of the burning walkers all on his own.
While he struggles with the first walker, I grab the other one nearest to him and jab my knife into the back of its skull. By the time I manage to get my dull knife out of my walker, the boy is already done putting down all of the rest.
