We're The Ones Who Live {Carl Grimes x Reader)

Chapter Three - I Need To Learn To Throw Some

The sun was starting to set as Rick drove back to the camp, Morales giving him directions from the back. Foster had curled up in the passenger seat, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. A feeling overwhelmed her, not sadness, not fear, not remorse or rage, just a deep aching feeling that she couldn't match to a word. She pulled at the sleeve of her flannel, one she had stolen from her dads bag when Merle had forced her to go with them into Atlanta. The green fabric was soft from being often worn. She buried her face in her elbow, the scent of her dads soap comforting her. Foster chewed on the inside of her cheek, she had never been close with her uncle. His violence and addiction made it hard to be around him, but her dad still loved him. Foster squeezed her eyes shut, flashing of her uncle's drunken rage swimming through her mind. Images of the various women he'd bring home doting over her before being pulled away by her uncle. And the drugs, oh all the drugs that could either make him violent or pass out on the couch. She had always been terrified that her dad would end up like Merle but he was always there, he always cared and protected her. She wouldn't lie to herself, part of her was glad Merle was gone. Guilt rippled through Foster, the girl mortified that she could even think that of her own blood. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and looked back out the window, all she wanted was her dad, he would make everything better, as it should be. Foster could feel Rick looking over at her.

"Foster?" he asked quietly, looking between her and the road. She sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand before looking over to him. His eyes were sad, a frown growing on his face.

"I can't believe we left him behind," Foster whispered, "we were never close but he was my blood." Foster looked away from Rick, her eyes wandering back to the window. "My dad left on a hunt the day before the group left for the city. Dad told me to stay at camp with some of the women that are there but Merle forced me to go. Told me that he wasn't gonna 'help raise a pussy.'" Rick pursed his lips and nodded. Foster took a shaky breath, looking back at Rick, "he threatened them into letting me go." Just as Rick opened his mouth to speak, Morales cut in.

"Best not to dwell on it. Merle got left behind. Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back," Morales muttered from the back, "except maybe Daryl." Foster glared back at the Hispanic man. He recoiled a bit, distancing himself from the girl.

"Daryl?" Rick asked, looking back at Morales for a second before returning his attention back to the road.

"His brother, Foster's dad," Morales answered, patting Foster lightly on the shoulder. She sighed and turned back around. A car alarm caught Foster's attention, her eyes snapped to the side view mirrors. A small smile broke onto her face as she caught a glimpse of the red Mustang that Glenn was driving, her smile grew wider at the sight of him fist pumping and yelling out the car's window. Rick chuckled as Glenn sped past them, the Mustang's engine revving.

"At least somebody's having a good day," Foster mumbled.

Foster stayed silent as they pulled into camp. Majority of the group had gathered around Glenn's mustang which had thankfully stopped wailing. Glenn smiled brightly and waved as Rick pulled up, Morales patted him on the arm.

"Come meet everybody," Morales said happily before rolling up the cube van's back door and hopping out. Foster sighed, she popped open the passenger door and hopped out stretching her legs. She turned around, gathering her bow, quiver, and backpack before slamming the door shut.

"Amy," Andrea breathed out, running past Foster.

"Andrea!" Amy cried, the two sisters colliding. Foster pursed her lips as they hugged, sobbing happily into each other. She walked past them towards Carl, the boy wore a slightly disappointed face as he watched Morales and Amy greet their family members.