Carl's P.O.V:
She looked like a wild animal, captured and caged in the nice side of town. Her bob was shaggy and un-even, strands of chesnut hair brushing against her face. Her eye's wore big bags underneath, and they were the color of mud. Spots of dirt dotted their way across the outline of her cheekbones, resembling freckles. And a little splotch of dirt was pressed at the tip of her nose, resembling a triangular nose. Like a cat.
She was dressed in an army jacket twice her size, blood splotches staining parts of the fabric. that looked like a man's, and wore torn blue jeans underneath it, dirt painted the bottoms. She also walked around barefoot. How intelligent.
Carl observed her like an art piece, curious as to the meaning and distracted by physical appearence. What a tangle of thorns.
"Hi." He replied, hesistantly. Who knew this girl's story? She could be a basketcase for all he knew.
Not that there was anything wrong with that.
Before they could start a full fledged conversation, Michonne and Rick discussed what to do.
He wet his lips, as they decided on leaving the suburbs. They had already scouted most of the houses in the general area, and most of the supplies had already been gotten too.
Now he knew by who.
They started North, walking the street's of the neighborhood, that were painted with gutted Walker's and footprints written in dirt.
He knew there was some one in the area, he just didn't know it would be some one so odd.
Carl stood beside the girl, as Michonne had suggested it. She said that the girl thought she was the only one left, and that she would benefit from some company.
His dad was way ahead, leading them to wherever their feet might take them. And Michonne trailed behind his father.
The silence was awkward and uncomfortable. Until Lolita managed to speak, "There's nothing worth seeing the way we're headed."
He remained silent for a second before putting something to say together. "You've been up there?" he asked.
Well that was a stupid question. Of course she has, if she knew that.
"I lived up there." she replied, in a suttle tone. But her voice shook. Her body emmitted a shiver as she was reminded of the memories.
Carl's group hadn't been North, nor West or East in this area. They came from the South.
"Oh." He replied, unknowing of what to say. He was glad enough to have company, even if it was uncomfortable. He inhaled, the air stinking of decay, and the urge to throw up rumbled in his half-empty stomach. The stench of blood was strong, coming from Lolita herself. She was careless when it came to killing walkers, and she knew from experience that when you wore their flesh and blood that it would ward away other walkers.
"There's trailers. Dirt and muck. Complete chaos. The absolute slums of the state. West is the industrial area, and East is more of the city." Lolita rambled. "The world is deteriorating. It's all gone to shit." She continued mindlessly.
It's all gone to shit. The word's seemed familiar because he's said something similar. It was to the point where he tried so hard to be brave like his father, that he ended up being tired of trying. What was the use? What kind of man was his father anyways? He didn't even think of his father as a man. He thought of him as a coward. Well, at least now he did.
After she said that, he noticed her eyes wander to his hat. His sheriff's hat. The one that use to belong his father. He kept it because, even if his father wasn't there for him now, he use to be, this reminded him of those days.
"It's always been shit." he mumbled under his breath.
And before he could react, she reached out and grabbed the hat off of his head, setting it on her own.
"Your dad's a sheriff isn't he." She assumed, referring to the hat.
"Use to be. Now he's just an asshole." He growled, snatching his hat back. He didn't appreciate that.
She raised her eyebrows. "I can tell."
Her reply made him to laugh. But it was absent-minded, and came out cold and bitter.
"You haven't seen anything. If only you knew..." he murmered, referring to the lack of parenting Rick did, as well as the fact he wasn't there for him when he did what he did to his mother.
He didn't like to talk about it. More or less think about it.
"I know what its like to have an asshole for a father. My dad had a short temper, slapped me around all the time." She replied, blankly. She had no idea why she was telling him this, but she was glad to get it off of her chest. It was a heavy memory to carry.
Carl's eyes wandered to hers once again. Finally, an emotion. Empathy, was it? He knew how neglect felt, even if it was in a different context.
"I'm sorry." He apologized, eyes darting to the ground as soon as started to see the pain surface in her eyes. How hard must it have been to be abused by some one who claimed to love you? He knew that she deserved better than that. Anyone deserved better than that.
"Father's aren't any good. Parents aren't any good. You can do without them.... I did." She encouraged, sympathetic in a way. He was stuck with his dad. Stuck with the burden of love. But she didn't have anything more to lose.
He pursed his lips, pondering the thought for a millisecond. He shook his head this time, in disagreement. "I don't care enough to survive in this world on my own. Or maybe I just care too much. Who know's." He shrugged. He knew why he was letting this stuff out. He needed too. And he always did. Whether that was through shooting walker's or cussing out his father. He supposed having some one to talk to was a better outlet. Maybe this was good.
They were close to leaving the suburbs now, and Lolita didn't even bother looking back. There was nothing left in those pretty houses but the memory of jealousy. The sound of barefeet meeting the pavement echoed through out.
But talking about this stuff kind of made him sick. So he tried to change the subject. His gaze directed to her feet. Why wasn't she wearing any shoes? Surely she had a pair. She could have least stolen a pair if it came down to it.
"You're.... kind of strange-- aren't you?" He breathed. He didn't see anything wrong with strange. It was exciting, if anything. But she might think of it as an insult.
Lolita pondered on that for a bit, walking in slow, gentle paces.
"I-- guess I am. Maybe. But what does it matter? All of us are a little strange." She replied, the shadow of a smile on her lips.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Hearts (TWD Carl Grimes)
Fanfiction"Once upon a time, there was a poor child, with no father and no mother. And everything was dead. And no one was left in the whole world. Everything was dead." Lolita was all on her own when the group came and found her scavaging for food in a subur...
