It wasn't surprising to Carl that, within all the chaos, one had noticed him curled up in the corner.
His arm was still sluggishly bleeding.
Eyes on the floor, Carl could see footsteps enter and leave the room.
Groups of people.
Talking.
Whispering.
Carrying Maud out, Carl caught her eyes in a daze as he sat tight like a spring.
Carl felt like it had been a long time since he felt light, shrouded in shadow from above him.
His shirt was covered in red, cold and sticky, locking him in his place.
When a hand reached for him, Carl shrugged it off, reaching the wall to stabilise himself as he stood.
Marching out of the house, the body following closely behind him.
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The body let Carl guide him around Alexandria.
Those who had survived were on clean-up duty, stopping to stare as Carl walked past them; he paid them no mind, going home.
Entering with his strongest hand, the house was empty.
Flicking off his shoes, Carl made for the bathroom.
The body behind him closed the front door, turning the lock.
Carl made to clean himself up, trudging upstairs.
The bullet had passed clean through his arm, allowing Carl to skip medical.
Pulling at the tourniquet.
Carl tugged with frustration, the knot that he had tightened in the throes of battle was now too tight to fall when asked to.
His face screwed in a ball as his fingers trembled with effort.
A hand went to help Carl.
Not pulling back when Carl slapped it off uncaringly.
Despite Carl's protests, the hand was joined by another.
Pulling the rag free with much less effort than Carl needed to do the same.
Putting his hand in the bathroom sink, Carl let the blood now free flow down the drain.
Raising his head for the first time, the joints in his neck ached and popped into the correct place as he held his eyes to his father's work through the vanity.
Letting him help remove his flannel, which Carl knew he wouldn't see again, repurposed or not.
Leaving his chest bare, he dried off Carl's arm.
Wrapping it tightly in bandages, Carl continues watching.
Rick contemplated getting Carl to sit on the edge of the bathtub or the toilet seat, but he didn't say anything.
Cleaning Carl's injuries reminded Rick of the times his son would cry out from the garden after having fallen from his bike and grazed his knee or gotten a paper cut working on a school project.
This time, however, Rick knew that kisses or the age-old dad joke telling his child he would have to cut off a limb wouldn't go down so well.
Rick talked in Carl's silence.
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🍊tangerine oranges🍊|THE WALKING DEAD|
Fanfiction○amc's |THE WALKING DEAD|○ • CARL GRIMES X BLACK! OC • Queerplationic relationship ₩₩₩₩₩ He didn't like the feeling that came over him when he saw the man stop his car and step out onto the dirt path. It made him feel the same way that the dead did...
