it almost worked

.011

IT ALMOST WORKED !
the walking dead !
.011   -   when your lost in the darkness...!

   EVERYTHING HURT. it all burned, from his mind to his chest, it burned in the way he felt like he was being split open, cut straight down the middle. believing she wasn't gone, that somehow natalia was still alive, was harder then excepting she wouldn't be coming back. excepting that maybe he should start mourning, the sooner he began perhaps the sooner he would be able to except the fact that she was gone. though, he wasn't the only one. rick and lori were in the depths, both of their children either missing or barely clinging to life with a bullet hole in their chest. a small burning sensation crawled up from the depths of his throat, settling firmly on the fragile flesh within his mouth, the burn in his chest growing, a small ring in his ear, he felt sick to his stomach. hot salty tears threatening to pool from his tear ducts, threatening to make a show for everyone who had gathered for otis. for the man responsible for carl's gunshot wound, the. man who had died at the hands of the dead while trying to make up for what he had done. 

   dark eye bags sat beneath his dark irises, the bags heavy. his hair a tousled mess; something he knew talia would've fixed for him, something that would've driven her crazy until she forced him to stop moving so she could smooth the messy curls out. his face was pale, exhaustion in his eyes, because he was tired, tired of everything. of course he was physically tired, his limbs burned, his legs felt heavier with each step he took. yet it was his mental exhaustion that was taking the biggest tole on him. he was tired of running, tired of waiting and wondering about when the group would come across another herd, when they would lose more people, when dead, cold hands would get him next. tired of jumping at any sudden movement, at anything that got too close, dead or alive. a valid reason for either. hoping natalia was alive made him feel sick. it made the pit in his stomach grow, made his chest feel tight, like an elephant was sitting on top of him. it had been nearly three days since she'd gone into the woods and hadn't come out, since she had chased after the child that had fearfully ran from the dead, ran in hopes to keep herself alive. his hand ran through his hair, his eyes staring at the stone he held in his hand. grief was in everyone, they were either mourning the man they knew was dead; otis, the man who had saved carls life. or they were mourning two people they weren't sure were dead. lee wasn't sure if the man truly had saved carls life, when he had been the reason carl had gotten shot in the first place. 

   the walsh boy hated to admit it but he was losing hope. lee hated to admit he was slowly losing any faith in natalia to be alive. losing hope that talia was gonna come back alive, if she'd come back at all, or if they would run into her rotting corpse and be forced to put her down and except they hadnt been fast enough; that they hadnt looked hard enough. they're odds would be higher if the group was searching for them, if they were on foot searching. instead, they were having a funeral for a man they didn't know, a funeral for a man that shot a child, a funeral for a man who was the reason they were stuck on the farm with a half dead carl. it felt selfish to think about, lee knew that, yet he couldn't help but hold in an annoyed groan at the simple fact no one was looking for natalia looking for the only person he could care about, the only person who he had left eh CDC for. lee shifted on his feet, his hand tight around the stone in his hold, knuckles turning white, the callouses on his hands rough against the grey stone. slowly he stepped forward, placing the stone atop the others, before moving back to where he stood. his hands folded in front of him, placing a stone for a man he didn't know, lee found it odd, but complied non the less. "bless it be god, father of our lord, jesus christ." hershel spoke, reading from the bible he held in his hands, his voice holding the thick southern accent the other green family members also held. gently closing it after he finished. hershel was an older man, with white hair, and plenty of wrinkles to show he'd lived a rather long life.