𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩 - 𝙩𝙬𝙙

eleven

Kat

The prison was eerily quiet from the day before. The only sounds were the echo of a baby's cry every once in a while. Kat didn't want to leave her cell, she didn't want to talk to anyone, because she knew what loss felt like, and it made you silent.

But when the crying became insufferable Kat moved, for the first time in twenty-four hours. She stood in the cell opening, watching Beth try to soothe Judith, watching her frantically try to quiet her, because as terrible as it was, Judith was a reminder to all of them that Lori was dead, just like Kat was a reminder to herself of what she had done to her own dad.

"She's hungry," Kat said softly, wanting to get the crying to just stop.

"Hm?" Beth looked at her with wide eyes.

"That's a hungry cry... I had a lot of baby cousins." For some reason she felt the beed to explain herself. Beth reached for the bottle, snatching it from the cell sink and putting it to the baby's mouth. Immediately the crying ended.

"How did you know?" Beth smiled at her, but a weak smile, a drained smile.

"Babies have different cries for everything... You get used to it.." That was her excuse. That was the story her and Maddie had agreed on. She was a good big sister...

"Thank you... Are you okay?" Beth questioned, and it was genuine.

"No. But it's not about me, ya know..?"

It went silent for a second. Because it was about everyone but Kat. She didn't know Lori. She didn't know any of them.

"Have you talked to Carl?" Beth broke the silence.

"Oh no... I think he needs to have space."

"No. I think he needs to know you understand... You do. Rick told us about your dad and-"

"Ok."

...

Looking at Carl it made Kat realize just how young they were. Mentally, she felt so much older, but seeing the distant look in Carls eyes made her realize, they were still just kids. And he had lost his mom, and she had too.

The library was empty, almost homey. She pretended to look for a book for a second but she couldn't ignore him tucked away in the corner. She felt him watching her.

"Did my dad ask you to come check on me?" Carl spoke up.

Kat sighed, staring down at him.

"You want the truth?"

He nodded.

"Nobody even knows whats going on with your dad... I wanted to check on you by myself." She lied. She was a good liar.

"I'm okay," He said without her asking. She knew he wasn't. She flung her backpack off her shoulder, digging in it. He watched her with a confused look.

"Okay, I am not good with helping people grieve but.." She pulled out her walkman, taking a seat next to him, shoving one earbud into his ear.

"Music helps." She gave him a half smile before pressing play on the walkman.

He just stared at her as the music began. The Smiths. She loved The Smiths.

"What the heck is this?" Carl looked at the walkman in her hands."

"Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want... The Smiths. Just listen."

And he did. And they both stared off. And Kat knew how young Carl was to grieve, because she was his age, and she grieved, and killed, and she was a child. She wiped away tears harshly from her cheeks, because finally someone knew they hurt she carried. As much as she hated it.. Someone could finally understand.