Taken ➢ Carl Grimes x Reader - EDITING

ONE - Edited

Hello folks!

I started writing this.. meh book when I was 15. Y'all I really thought this was the greatest thing ever lol.

It's nearing its 10 year anniversary so for the sake of me finishing atleast one wattpad book I will be editing these existing chapters then bringing it to an end.

Please enjoy!

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(Y/N)= Your Name

Carl's Grimes

The intense Georgia sun pounded down on the house Carl slumped around in. The thick, sticky air coated the house and the wind which whipped yellow leaves and thin branches around caressed the sides of the paneled home. Within these pale walls, down a dimly lit hall and up rickety stares sat a boy. His hair long, its split ends touching his neck and his worn hat hiding his tired eyes. His thin body sat perched on the side of a halfway made bed and his boots kicked dust bunnies that danced around the room of its previous owner. The room was still and so was Carl, a pen could drop and sound like it was a jet taking off a mere five feet away.

Carl had sighed to himself, his lips pursed and eyes dull while his mind replayed events of her. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, his hands shaking and gripping tightly onto the cotton sheets. 'Why did she have to go' Carl had thought to himself while he eased his grip on the sheets and removed a single hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was stressed and the deep purple bags underneath Carl's ocean eyes proved this. He flinched a bit when he heard his fathers heavy boots on the creaky wooden floors, they sounded like cinder blocks dragging against a chalk board.

It was horrible.

"Son, you ready to leave?" Rick had softly asked, his voice seemed hoarse and by the volume Carl could tell his father was in desperate need of another nap. The sadness in his voice caused Carl's stomach to twist, losing the prison; their home. Losing Hershel. Losing everything. His dad really took it the worst.

"um yeah - yeah, I'm ready." Carl answered back, his words laced with hesitation and when he pushed himself up from the plush bed he felt the room spin. Carl hadn't been eating, the stress caused everything to come right back up and everything felt like it was a fourty mile hike. Attempting to calm himself, Carl soaked in the room once more. He took notice of the dusty Xbox games and the controller wire that was tangled in several spots. He eyed the comics that had yellowed from age and exposure and the pillows of pop culture phenomenon's; all items from a time long forgotten. Carl's eyes then fell to his holster. Tucked snug in there without a single bullet was the gun he found with (Y/N) the scratched metal sported their initials and it cause the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards. Carl remembered how hard it was to dig the knife into the metal of the gun. It took the two of them about a week and a bunch of bandages, but Carl remembered the sweet giggles that escaped from your mouth while Carl had nicked himself and spat out a string of colorful words.

"Dad I miss her, I still feel like it's my fault" Carl had mumbled out and his gaze shifted from his pistol to his father who leaned against the molding of the door. Rick had turned his head to the side, looking at the intricate bends and twists of the wood and his free hand ran through his greasy locks.

"I know.. Carl. Just don't give up," Rick looked to the floor then to his son who stood perfectly still. His tired hands reached into his back pocket where he pulled out a crumbled granola bar and he wrapped his fingers around his belt loop before extending said bar out.

"Now c'mon we best get goin' don't want to lose the light and eat," Rick roughly said and with no fight Carl took the bar with limp hands and followed his father. As the two walked down the crying steps and narrow hallway Carl had flashbacks of the day he last saw (Y/N). He remembered her screams, how she begged for help. He saw the starving Walkers crawling and limping towards her as she panicked and searched for an opening. (Y/N) had watched with sorrowful eyes as the suv holding the boy departed, leaving nothing more than exhaust and monsters behind.

Pulling Carl out of his grim memories was the awful sound of the front door creaking open. It screamed and begged until his father had slammed it shut behind the two and Michonne who was sat quietly on the patio steps smiled when she was greeted by the two.

"Ready?" She mumbled out

"Yeah I am," Rick responded with a gruff voice and he pointed towards the trees at a pair of train tracks headed north. "We go that way."

Carl for the most part tuned his dad out. He looked towards the direction of his fathers finger, but whatever he said had bounced straight off of him. He felt so numb and as the three of them walked, the crunching of pebbles and dry leaves  filled their ears. Everything was so awkward, what was a quiet normal day for his father and adopted mother was a living hell for the teen. He heard her screams, saw the blood.

He tried to reason it out. Maybe it wasn't hers.

It had to be hers.

The thought echoed in Carl's brain, a lone tear trailing down his face, but when he saw Rick and Michonne's feet come to a stop, Carl looked up. He squinted through his greasy, stringy hair and the dark shadow casted by his fathers hat. Words were exchanged in a whisper between his father and the other and Carl's eyes widened when he processed the fateful words on the sign

TERMINUS. SANCTUARY FOR ALL, COMMUNITY FOR ALL

THOSE WHO ARRIVE.

SURVIVE.

Carl swallowed hard. He tried his best to process the bold sign but when his eyes took in the bloody font below; he let out a soft sob and took off down the tracks.

There in bloody letters sat her name. Your name and then Carl's. It was old, maybe about a year but that meant she was alive or was at one point and Carl sprinted, never looking  back once.

"Coral!" Rick had belted out as he silently mouthed the words 'fuck' and Michonne simply shrugged.

"Well hey at least we know where he's going." Michonne said with slight optimism while squirting a can of cheez-whiz into her mouth, however before she could get a response Rick was hobbling in Carl's direction and hollering his name.

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