stairwell ; carl grimes

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Yellow teeth were chomping at my shirt cuff. I was surely going to get bit. I started ripping at the material, digging my knife through the grey fabric.

"Fuck, come on. Please," I muttered to myself.

The walker, still growling, tumbled down the stairwell with the whole arm of my shirt in its mouth.

Scrambling up the stairs to try to make it to the roof I heard him after me.

"Girl! Come on. I just want to talk!" He called to me.

"In your dreams, idiot," I whispered to myself.

Yanking my axe out of the patched up and old leather backpack on my back, I swung it at the padlock on the door.

I creaked the door open, looking for anything. I saw a black crow fly onto the ledge. At least some things in this world aren't messed up. I smiled faintly.

I ran out of the door and pulled out my gun, being aware of my surroundings. A rat ran under my feet, having me lose my balance and tumbling towards the edge of the roof.

This is it.

Before I completely fell off the roof the kid who was chasing me grabbed my hand.

"I'd rather you let me die than you telling me bullshit," I spat in his face.

He yanked me up to the roof and tossed his weapons across the roof.

"I just want to talk."

"You can talk at gun point. I'll kill you if you try some bullshit."

"Sounds fair eno-" And before he could finish he was pinned on the floor with my gun barrel to his head.

"Go ahead. Talk," I glared at him.

"We have a prison. Not far from here. Maybe, oh, three miles? We'd like you to come. We've seen you before when my folks and I went on runs. You look like a capable girl. We could use you there."

"What's in it for me?" I asked, still keeping my menacing tone.

"We have running, clean, water. We have a farm, vegetables and all. There's pigs, too. Kids there, which are our age. Your age! People would love to talk to you. You seem like a nice girl."

"You don't know a damn thing about me. You don't know who I am. I bet you don't even know how old I am," I growled at him.

And the truth was he didn't know what I had gone through since the apocalypse started. "I had no idea where my dad went off to when I was 13. Losing my mother at 14, my sister at 15, and all my sanity at 16. You don't know shit, dude!"

I didn't care about killing people anymore. I had realized that life was now survival of the fittest. People didn't give a shit if you were royalty, or you were a murderer. Everyone is a murderer now. You couldn't go to sleep not being afraid. You had to kill people you loved. Some died and some survived. Terminus taught me that.

Those who arrived survive. Sanctuary for all, home for all. But that was a lie. Cannibals was all they were. And I actually thought I could pay off things I took from there with sexual favors. I couldn't cry in front of this guy. He'd know I was weak inside.

"Well, you look around 17. Right?"

"Fine. I'll come."

"Seriously? That's great!"

"One condition."

"Hm?"

"You're at gunpoint on the walk."