"Why do you care?"
"Because you let me. No one's let me care for them before...but you did."
"I've never allowed anyone to care for me before you showed up."
"Well..."
"I suppose we're in similar predicaments."
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A Carl Grimes/Walking Dead F...
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The sun rises outside the concrete containment of an abandoned prison, sneaking rays of golden light through the barred windows.
A restless Carl Grimes tosses and turns on the top bunk of his bed. Unfortunately, an extreme lack of sleep has found him for the past few weeks, intense nightmares flooding his vision every time he closes his eyes.
They're mostly of his late mother, Lori, a woman so important in his life that is no longer there.
He stretches, scratches at his hair that's been growing out for a while, and hangs his head low.
The world seems to be endlessly beating him down as of lately. Everything seems so much more impossible.
It feels as if it takes extra energy to get out of bed, extra strength to just talk to people with a basic greeting. He's even gone straight to the point of ignoring his dad whenever he makes an effort to speak to him about the incident.
Lori's death hit her son like a truck, but it hit her husband like a tank.
Rick completely shut down the first two weeks after her death. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't move. Everything hurt. Rick had snapped at Lori a few days previous to her death, and he never got a real opportunity to apologize and explain himself, before it was too late. He didn't step-up as a comforting figure to Carl for a while after her death. Rick, in a sense, just let life pass by him without a second thought.
However, he picked himself back up. He found ways to cope. He spoke to Herschel frequently, spent time with Judith. And he is trying, he really is, to talk to his son, but Carl is barely there anymore.
The young boy moves about life with such resentment, but no one can really figure out wether he is mad at the world or himself.
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"Good Morning, Carl." Beth says as the brunette enters the common area of the prison. She's sauntering around the room with Judith, bouncing her up and down to get a giggle out of the baby.
"Mornin'." The boy responds while pulling his Sheriffs Hat down to cover his eyes. He makes his way over to their collection of canned goods, settling on a half-eaten can of baked beans for a "nutritious" breakfast. He grips the can, snags a spoon, and takes a seat at the table.
Beth frowns lightly at the boys constant upset demeanor. "Hey Carl," She calls and he looks up. "Would you hold Judith for a moment, I need to grab something." With a nod, he stands, taking his baby sister from the arms of Beths and into his.
"Hey Judy," He coos quietly to the little one. A few minutes later, Rick walks in.
"Mornin' Carl, Judith." He walks over and gently pets his daughters head while using his other hand to shift around his sons hat, to which Carl gives him an annoyed stare. "I-uh...I was plannin' on going on a run today, there's an abandoned farmers market about a mile into the woods, thinking there might be some supplies there. You wantin' to come?" Rick asks with a hopeful voice.
