Don't You? ➡ CARL GRIMES

IV

I turned to look at Rick after my silent moment of contemplation. Memories of my childhood alongside my elder brother flooded my mind; memories of not just us, but with our friends and our parents. Barbeques and road trips in the summer, while we stayed inside to watch Christmas movies during the winter. I remember the huge smile on my mother's face and the deep laughter of my father, the protective hugs from my brother and the soft snores of our dog. It all came back in an overwhelming rush. But then the bad followed.

Before the horrid images seeped through the cracks, I swallowed and looked at the man in front of me. He was patiently waiting for me to speak, to pour the story of my life at his feet so he could finally understand why I am the way I am. But nothing could come out. The two of us just stood in the middle of the dusty kitchen, his gaze trained on me while I realized why no one ever listened to me. It was because I never actually spoke up.

I've never told my story to anyone, so no one could listen if even if they wanted to. Whether it was because I was not trusting or I just didn't feel they were worthy of their knowledge of me didn't matter.

However I had just opened my mouth to speak when Carl galloped into the room, worry drowning his other expressions. 

"Walkers are coming. We need to go," he said. 

Rick and I grabbed the bags from the table and we stumbled from the house, rushing down the pavement and shoving the bags into the back of Glenn's car. I entered the passenger side of his vehicle, watching as the sheriff and his son got ready to leave in the car behind us, and I thought about how we'd have to pick up our conversation another time.

'''

"Are you alright?" Glenn asked, his voice breaking the long-lasting silence. Multiple responses filled my head. I wanted to say I was shaken up, that I had a horrid feeling about being with people after such a long trudge on my own. I wanted to spit out that I was worried and that I missed the protection of my older brother, but the only word that was able to leave my mouth was "Yes".

The sun was blinding as we drove, and the heat through the window gave my body a calming feeling. I rested the side of my head on the window and closed my eyes, embracing the warmth radiating from it. 

Unfortunately with the overpowering silence between Glenn and I, the warmth of the sun on the window became a lot less comfortable. My joints slowly started to ache for movement. My thoughts started to crowd my mind. I opened my eyes, immediately seeing the bright light behind the trees that was no longer appealing to my vision.

I turned my head in Glenn's direction, watching him focus on the road ahead of us. He clenched his jaw every few seconds and adjusted his grip on the wheel. His hair was a little less messy than before and he didn't have any blood on his shirt. Whereas I have dried blood and mud along my cheeks and neck, in my knotted hair and stained into my clothing. The only thing clean was my machete.

All of the blood showed how careless I was with slicing the dead and the living. All of the mud on my old clothes showed just how far I've come and all I've run through to get away from my death. The sight discouraged me, but it also didn't. It made me feel like a monster every second I stared, but I was so used to how I looked I didn't care.

A sudden bump tore me from staring at my tattered reflection and I realized we were heading down the dirt pathway to the prison. The familiar gate made me think of the day before.

"Rick wants you to stay with either Carl, me, or him for a while until the group is content with you being around," Glenn said. He stopped the car for a mere moment until the brunette from yesterday, Maggie, pulled the gate open.