WASTE • Carl Grimes

Six

I tried to get Carl to take my gun after I pulled it out of my backpack, but he refused, handing it back to me before walking away, confusing me.

He's the one that wanted to help me, Why the hell doesn't he want to teach me now while we're at it?

Confused yet remaining unbothered, I shrug and walk after him, my gun glued to my hand.

" thought you wanted to help me? " I ask once I've been able to catch up to his pace, walking beside him now.

He keeps his eye ahead of him. " I will, but when we find a good place first " he replies.

" good place? " I furrow my eyebrows together and he nods.

" yeah, a good place " he says, clearly not in the mood to explain what he means by " good place " to me, so I roll my eyes and take a few steps ahead, no longer walking beside him.

He better be gone soon.

•••

We found a house right as the sun had started to set, the sky slowly darkening while we stab a few of the dead until the whole place was clear, good enough for the night.

Carl and I sat in silence in the living room, neither of us attempting to start a conversation. He had a can of corn in the palm of his hand as he dug a fork into the can and placed it in his mouth, never glancing my way.

Not that it bothered me, I actually liked things that way. Both of us minding our business in silence, not bothering one another with irrelevant and uncomfortable questions.

This silence was good, it was like he wasn't there.

With a sigh, I get up off the floor and take my gun in my hand, my feet dragging me upstairs into the darkness that has taken over the house.

I could tell that this house was home to a loving family, one that had perfect little children who attended school and aimed for good grades, certain to make their parents proud. The framed picture of a family of five and nails dug into the walls of the hallway were enough to provide me with such information.

I walk into one of the rooms I had barged into a couple of hours ago when I was clearing the house, my eyes immediately falling on a window I remember spotting earlier.

The frames of the window were white and wide, making the window big enough to engulf a whole human being only if they slightly bent down a bit.

I decide to ignore the toys and interior of the room as they would hit way too close to home and force me to remember a million things that I would rather die than have to see again.

With that thought dancing in the midst of my mind, I walk up to the window, my fingers forcing its glass all the way up until it is open, revealing a roof that even the dumbest of people would know that whoever resided in this bedroom in the past, had most certainly taken advantage of the spacious roof.

I smile to myself, the wind pushing my hair out of my face as i bend down and go through the window, my feet falling on the roof until I'm standing on it, arms stretched out to help balance my unsteady frame, a wide smile still etched onto my face.

I haven't smiled this way in so long.

I sat down on the edge of the roof, sighing as I look at the neighboring homes beside me, analyzing the neighborhood. The leaf-trashed streets, dusty homes with broken doors and windows, and the dead, walking under my dangling feet, not aware of my presence.