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
My slow eyes twitch, finally being able to recognize the shapes of the trees around me as the light from sunrise splashes through their leaves. After a sleepless night, my search for Daryl has fallen nothing but short.
As I make my way farther from the prison, the amount of walkers has thinned out drastically. There hasn't been much to do out here besides killing the dead, and even that is starting to dwindle.
Being completely alone with my thoughts has brought along many new sensations. It was different when the boy was alongside me, making some backhanded comment or causing some commotion. Now I have no distraction, no buffer.
It wasn't until the blade of my knife got more blunt and dull that I realize that being on my own might be a lot harder than I thought. That's why I'm really banking on finding Daryl.
Normally, walking through the forest, I'd have the simple pleasure of getting lost in thought. But this time I have to be on full alert in case of wandering walkers. I don't have anyone to count on besides myself.
I try not to let my thoughts drift too close to the boy I left behind, though. Once or twice I've felt a ping of regret, having left the guilty boy all on his own. Constantly having to stop myself from wondering how he was doing, if he was okay or if he was even looking for me.
Not only was I feeling regret that I caused the fight that lead to the both of us being alone, I was regretting the words I said. I was regretting the feelings I felt toward Carl, who was really only trying to keep us safe.
Everything he did, he did so he could keep us safe—me safe. And you can't blame a boy for trying. But I did. I heavily blamed the boy for trying.
He couldn't have predicted what would happen to prison after we left. He couldn't have known someone was going to find our supplies. He didn't know why Daryl was with those men, and he was fine not knowing if it meant he got to keep us safe.
I stop walking in the direction I've been going. Maybe I should turn back. He's probably waiting at the beat-up SUV, reliving what almost happened to us, in hopes that I might come to my senses and return.
Shaking my head, I step over a hollow log and decide to continue my on my voyage away from the boy.
