Another Chance ~Carl Grimes Love Story~

Chapter 29 - Whiskey & Curses

A/N: Not really sure if I jumped too head-first with this character development, but I already have a really big thing that I'm planning out slowly for Emma to develop so I think it's fine. It'll even out. Plus, I took a look back to a few things in the last half of season 4 writing I did for this story, and I think it built up just alright if you paid enough attention. This is just the final breakdown I suppose!

Warning: Lots of language and panic lay ahead. Be prepared! ~Katie

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That night we all gathered for dinner.

I suppose maybe at the prison we were all so spaced out that I never gave any thought to how many of us there were; at least not until Woodbury had joined us. Even a few months after that, though, there never seemed to be too many people around at once.

Now, however, there are so many of us crowded around in one room. I feel anxious, and I try to push it away. It was never something that I suffered with as a kid, but my mom had a history with it, especially in large groups of people she didn’t particularly know too well. I tried looking for Carl and couldn’t find him in the mess, so I stuck by Daryl instead. 

And here we are, eating canned food and everybody having a generally good time already. My plastic plate has canned beans, fruit, veggies. Whatever I could find. Who knows how long it’s been since I had a proper meal, let alone some actual calories. It doesn’t taste or smell particularly fascinating, but it’s food. And holy mother of god am I starving. 

I had a glass of water, and drank it fairly quickly as well. In my perfect timing of finishing the beverage, however, the new brawny and red-haired member of our group, Abraham, decided to propose a toast.

I feel Daryl tap on my shoulder with something strange, and as I turned to him, he fills my cup with whiskey, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and shaking me a little. “I think you deserve this,” he tells me. 

I look at it and swirl it around in my cup before saying a surprised thank you to him. It’s odd. The last time I drank whiskey was with Daryl after Merle had died. All night we drank that putrid stuff. Tasted like gasoline and cyanide by the time the sun had come up. The overwhelming urge to puke my guts out the next morning was just the cherry on top.

I take a sip of mine. It’s not at all as bad as I remember it being. Though, that was under bad circumstance, I suppose.

Something special Daryl must have found. Everyone else has wine except the two of us. Wine from the church. I suppose this is our thing now. I’m pretty grateful for that.

It burns my throat a little, but it’s a warming feeling. Something I’ve missed. A lot, actually. I close my eyes and just taste it for a moment in my mouth, feeling only a slight burn but a wonderful homely taste. 

I’m glad I’m not sitting next to Carl, as he would be pretty disappointed if he knew my intentions of getting shitfaced tonight. 

I take a longer drink of it, before having Daryl refill my cup as Abraham begins to speak. 

It’s gonna be a long night.

“I would like to propose a toast!” he yells out, quieting down the room in no time.

“I look around this room and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title.” He raises his glass. “To the survivors!”

The room erupts with loud stutters of the word “survivor,” my own voice included, feeling already drunk with just my first taste of alcohol in almost a year. I take another gulp of my drink.