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
Thedoorknob to the vacant trailer clicks open, finally declaring the end of our treacherous journey to Hilltop. Sneaking past the countless Saviors in the woods to get to the car was half the battle. The other half was figuring out how to actually drive. Luckily, for whatever it's worth, Carl was able to guide me in starting the car that would take him to his final destination.
Traveling through empty streets would not have been so bad—for a beginner like myself—had I not had to maneuver without the use of headlights, out of the fear of being seen and caught. The jagged, unclear road ahead did not bode well for the boy who lay dying in the backseat.
The boy's emergent state left very little time for an explanation as we rolled up to the gates of Hilltop. Everything between now and then has been a blur.
I was a frantic mess trying to keep Carl awake the long journey here. I've been a frantic mess this entire time—so caught up in the chaos to fully absorb the fact that we've finally made it to where Carl is supposed to die.
"Just a little bit farther," I continue to push the boy, whose sweaty, feverish arm I remain firmly under. My eyes rapidly scan the bathroom, before landing on the bathtub. I immediately shuffle the both of us over to the toilet. "Here—sit down."
The boy throatily gulps between the slow blinks of his watery eye. "Ok—Okay,"
I gently shake the boy's weight off of me, placing him against the cold, porcelain toilet seat, that of which contrasts with the temperature of his warm body. After repeatedly turning my head back and forth, I stumble to the faucet, flipping it on.
To my flustered surprise, the well water actually begins to pour out. The reveal of the unsteady stream of water relieves me only for a moment, before I realize that this water will provide the boy's final bath. I place the stopper in the drain, before quickly returning my attention back to Carl.
"Let's get you out of this," I start as I quickly begin to unbutton the boy's flannel. I guide his arms out of the dewy fabric, one at a time. The bath water continues to run, creating a gentle static sound in the background of my scurrying. I put Carl's sleeveless arm around my shoulder, lifting the boy before I even explain what I'm doing. "Up," I breathe out.
Carl uses whatever energy he has left to gently lift himself from the seat, allowing me to unzip his pants and pull them to his knees. Once the pants are out of the way, I lower him back down onto the seat before I untie his boots and rip the pants away from his ankles, pulling down his loaded thigh-holster with them.
