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❛ YOU PROMISED. ❜ 23. Problems SEASON 03 EPISODE 10/11 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
An icychill shoots down the skin of my back causing the feeling of sparks to prick against my spine. It was cold, that much I knew. There was an intense pain that scorched my skin, almost like every atom in my body was being stabbed over and over; this made it hard for me to open my eyes, hell to even breathe.
Stitches were now sewn across my skin, the wound was much longer and larger; it was probably because they had to pull the bullet out. It hurt like a bitch just to move.
A soft groan slips by my lips and my hand hovered over the wound. In fear of pain, I let out deep and gentle breaths, not really wanting it to hurt anymore that it did. The plan was to ignore it, no matter how much it itched or burned; just pretend it wasn't there and go about my terrible day. I was scratching the air above the scar, as if it was going to help this itch go away. It did not.
"Kendall..?" It was a voice I familiarized myself with expeditiously. Carl Grimes. I blinked, trying to sit myself up and when he noticed me struggle, he tried to help me only to get a scream out of it.
"Don't touch me!" I was sure the entire group had heard me; my voice had echoed against the walls, scratching at my throat. The look on his face and the way he steps away from me made me correct myself. "I'm sorry... just... just don't touch me."
A silence fell between us and nothing but the sound of me sitting up in the creaking bed surrounded us. He watched me with soft, narrowed eyes and a worried stare, it only made me feel worse. I neglected him—his presence; there was one thing in my mind and it was taking up all the space. It was holding me under water and covering my lips, I am drowning.
"Ahh." I yelped, pressing my hand against my wound softly as I slide from the bed. I put a hand in the air when he tried to help me, standing up myself with a strained and painful groan. "It's okay. I'm okay."
I was on a mission, find Michonne.
I was weak; needing professional help to get walk, weak. I was barely able to feel my legs and yet still I was walking around like it wasn't a bother. The pain from my wound got worsened along with each step taken. The blue-eyed boy was following me, his presence was just inches away from me. I could feel him breathing down my neck with each step. It is aggravating.
A scream strained at the bottom of my throat, it made my neck itch and ears ring, this had happened when I reached to push open the door leading to the courtyard. An ache tugs at my stitches, it felt like my stitches were unraveling and tearing away. It's pure torture but I held it in, refusing to turn around and lay in bed all day— like I have been doing.
