To Heal is to Feel

One-Eyed Boy Returns

The familiarity of the cool metal makes my skin burn as my boots chopped down on the cement floor with panicked.

"Lanna-it's fine. Would you just hold on?!"

Carmen tries to slow me down- which was odd. Why would she want me to not run towards the threat? That's what she's been training me, encouraging me to do?

This is one of those times where you don't have to listen to the adult. Carmen taught me that as well. So, I don't feel guilt as I push through the doors opening towards the gates.

My panic is seat aside and replaced with determination. Determination and confidence to kill when I see a gun being pointed between negans eyes.

I stay close to the truck. Holding the gun I snatched from the bars under table. Clicking the safety off slow and at the ready.

Carmen's presence behind me makes itself know as her hand comes up, trying to snatch the gun from my hands.

Confused and irritated, I bump her arm away and turn the corner of the moving truck. Holding the gun up high.

My eyes sleeting at the boy on top of the truck. Only, as the irritation ceases and the blue plains my sight.

I'm deceived. Because I couldn't be possibly right in the eyes. Because of all the idiots that came here in vehicles, I never expected to ever lay my orbs on the sandy brunettes forest eyes, ever again.

"Carl?" His name made an uncomfortable tingle distrust my firm hands. The gun not knowing if to target his head or heart.

Neither would suffice.

"Lanna?" He wasn't questioning my existence, no. He was confused as to why I held a gun towards him. Not to help, but to kill.

A man comes behind the distracted Carl and tackles him to the ground. Straddling him , unnecessary. A look of rage washes over carls eyes. No doubt remembering the bad man on the tracks...

It makes non existent food come up my chest, foriming a balm of diet and trapping the air from my brain. My thoughts stop in time.

It causes me not to think- not to restrict myself. I strife towards the man and bring my boot up, grabbing my skirt with my hands as I extend my leg and let my boot meet the man's bald scalp.

A tingle ing crack sound through the wind as he lets out a little girl cry, rolling on his side on the red dirt.

I ignore the man's cries and tip my chin back down to Carl. I wanted to wrap my greying feathers around him, calm him down and erase those memories.

Nothing could change what happened to him. What almost and did happen.

Instead, I reach out one of my black archer gloves- an interesting contrast to the matching white long sleeve and skirt.

He grabs onto it with both of his hands with a grip that makes me think he'll never let go. He forgets all about the rifle piece he ones held with the same grip.

Just then, negans every whistle makes my ears perk up and octave. Turning my gaze to the man, just as he grabs another male and puts him in front of himself.

Confused, I turn back towards Carl, only to see his hands sporting the rifle he once had. His flannel brushing against my cheek as he situates himself in front of me.