you drew stars around my scars
and now i'm bleeding.
><
carl never used to believe that everything
happened for a reason. but he now knows
that sofia espinosa came into his life for
one reason. she made him feel alive again.
after his mother died...
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————✧⋆✧————
CARL GRIMES KNOWS one thing for sure: he hates Sofia Espinosa. He doesn't know why, he doesn't need to. She's been better over the past couple of days, wandering around, mostly alone. Sometimes she'll walk with Glenn and Maggie, or Beth. He also hates that Judith seems to adore the girl. A lot of people at the prison are beginning to warm up to her, after the stunt she pulled when she arrived they were worried, but she's proven herself as anything but a threat to them.
He hates that Rick lets her stay in cell block C, right beside his cell. He's also noticed that she only goes to sleep after 11:49pm exactly, which he finds curious yet doesn't want to ask because that would mean he actually cared about her sleep schedule.
It's 5:34am and he's awake reading one of his comics, he can hear her steady breathing as she does crunches with her legs resting on the bed, as she has every morning the week she's been there. The bruises on her side have almost all faded into nothing and the gash in her side has scabbed over and is healing nicely — according to Dr. S.
Sofia sighs, standing up from the floor and going to get a shower like she has every morning. She scrubs her skin raw with the loofah, hell, she never thought it she'd even see one of those things again. After dressing in some navy blue cargo pants and a white tank top, she pushes the curtain on the door of the cell aside and walks to the table, sitting down.
The brunette begins to carefully trace in the sketch pad that Michonne had got her on one of her many runs in the past week.
"What're you doing?" A voice says and she turns around with a small sigh, seeing Carl leans back against the wall between their cells with a comic in his hand.
"Drawing?" She answers unsurely, seeing as it's clearly obvious what she's doing and Carl rolls his eyes.
"No. Why are you always up so early?" Carl interrogates further and she raises an eyebrow at him, placing her pencil down on the table. "I don't understand. You're. . .you're always awake until midnight and you wake up before everyone else."
"You think I want to be?" She tilts her head at him and he scoffs slightly. "You don't know shit about me, cowboy." She nods to his hat and he glares at her. "What I don't understand is why you're so invested in finding a way to hate me?"
"Because you're suspicious—you show up and act all crazy, and now you're suddenly one of us?" Carl argues and she stares at him blankly. "Look. I don't know what's happened to you, but I'm gonna find out. I don't know what you've done. . .but I know there's something."
"What? You think I might throw a grenade into one of the cell blocks?" She asks him in a feigned ominous voice as she stands up from her seat. "You think I might fire a machine gun at the breakfast table?" She stares up at him as she steps towards him and he simply glares at her as she takes the knife from her belt, not intimidated one bit. "Kill you?"
