nineteen. all of us

nineteen˚༺⋆♱⋆༻˚↳ all of us ↲

MY SISTER, ALLISON, HAD MET AN EXCRUCIATING END. I wasn't sure why I woke with this fact circulating in my mind, but I had, and it brought me from slumber to complete sobriety within seconds.

The night she died, dusk had already fallen. We were taking cover in the thick layer of trees, heavy packs clinging to our backs. My father had been dead for weeks now—my mother having been gone for maybe a month.

It was only her and I left.

It had happened so fast. We were sitting beneath a magnolia tree that wasn't yet ready to bloom, catching a short rest. I'd had my knife on me. But it wasn't worth shit. I'd turned when I heard her scream, but it was already on her. Digging its teeth into the crook of her small neck. Pulling away at her soft skin.

After I put the walker down, she choked to death on her own blood. There was no comfort in her demise. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I just held her, until her body stilled, and her breaths came to a struggled end.

I forced myself to push the memory from my mind, moving my braid over my shoulder as I took note of my surroundings.

The early hours of morning had finally bestowed upon us. Wallowing in the filtered light which came through, I took note of the quiet outside world from the space I laid. The storm had finally passed. The others were left spread out on the barn floor, together. All laid sleep-ridden. Exhaustion coated them like a thick blanket.

I looked to the side of me, at Carl. The speckles of light reflected onto his face extraordinarily, emphasizing his features; cutting a line between highlight, and shadows drawn along the cheekbones of his. His freckles, if I looked long enough - which I was careful about letting myself do, reminded me of shaped constellations, and pieces of broken stardust. Part of him was painstakingly drawn out from affliction, blood, and tears. . . but, another was soft, to put it simply. A part of him, I had began understanding.

The baby he held carefully in his arms had began to toss around, eyelashes fluttering open to reveal big, golden laced brown eyes. She attempted at lifting her head, but the boys limp hand was keeping her down. This instantly made her fussy, small frustrated grunts coming from her, which in turn, made the boy stir in his sleep.

I didn't want him to wake. He'd be grouchy the rest of the day, and I didn't want to look forward to that.

Instead, I made gentle contact with his warm arm, moving it to the side to swipe Judith into my own aching limbs. And, despite my own experience with Allie when she was an infant, Judith's squirming body felt unnatural against me. I had held her a few times, but always with someone beside me. I could only hold her with confidence if I knew somebody would take her if she lost her patience with me.

This was new.

I hushed her as her quiet wails echoed in the barn. After angling her against my hip, we walked across the shelter to prevent others from waking on account of her shrieks. I set my eyes on a small closed off backroom, holding her tighter while taking out the larger knife from a leather scabbard Daryl had given me along with the knife. Beth's weapon provided much more security within me than my pocketknife had done after loosing my own blade at Terminus.

I attempted to push open the door, but something was in its path. I sighed out as I pushed my foot against it, providing enough pressure to move whatever was in our path. There was just barely enough room to squeeze through, allowing me to see what had been blocking it.

A put-down walker, covered partially by a colorful knitted quilt. One of the group members must have did it when they'd cleared the inside of the barn the night before.

"Shit," I remarked at the sight, then realized I had sworn in front of the child, prompting me to grit my teeth and look at Judith. "Sorry."

Judith now looked disappointed, if anything. She seemed to have been expecting more, like I'd add a quarter into a nonexistent swear jar for this.

The room itself was crowded with items, presumably belonging to the carcass. There had been a desk, with an open calendar. Days were crossed with ink, circled, or ripped out completely. Stacks of novels, emptied food cans.

The baby didn't seem fond of this unlit area, leading to her to let out a series of loud unhappy squeals. Her salty tears dripped onto my shirt as I scanned the room.

"Okay, okay." I stepped over the body, then searched through the books. Few had anything but words to entertain Judith, but I did find a certain paperback, with colorful pictures on each chapter entry.

After obtaining it, I walked out, putting the book between my arm, and adjusting Judith higher on my hip. How did Carl do this so often? She was heavy. I then took us further, stopping at the attic-like steps near the hayloft. She seemed neither pleased or displeased, prompting me to move upward onto the higher level.

It was stuffy and hot. Dust bunnies seemingly hopped along the floor boards, fueled by the draft of air coming from the large window looking outward. As we approached, I became aware of the destruction outside caused by the storm.

Few trees that once stood tall were left lying flat and broken from their roots—some walkers trapped beneath the wreckage. Sharpened lone branches had impaled numerous more of the dead. All of them had either cleared out, or remained in compromising positions.

She watched the outside world, with bright eyes. I couldn't help but think, she would never know anything, but this world. I wondered if this baby would ever be a gentle being, or if, she would be made of bruised knuckles, and bloodied knees. It was easier to be tough. She may only know fearlessness, the creatures outside being simply a misfortune, and not a web of death.

I sat on the nearest bale, propping Judith on my leg so that she could still see past the window.

"It wasn't always like this." I found myself speaking to the infant, who was more interested in the book I held up for her, all while knowing she wasn't old enough to respond back. That was what made it so easy. "Don't let it ruin you."

It already had ruined me, along with many in this group. There was no going back. But, for her, she still had a chance. Judith had time.

A light croaking of the floor took place behind, bringing both the baby and I's attention to part from the window, and transition to the boy standing against the framing. He had been watching, for a length of time I wasn't aware of. A look of satisfaction pulled at his features.

"You kidnapped my sister." He said, the tease heavy in his tone.

I looked to Judith, a feeling of embarrassment bubbling in my chest. "She was going to wake you. I thought you would want the few extra minutes of sleep."

"I did, thank you." He now moved in front of us, blocking the view momentarily as he joined us on the block of itchy hay. "I just didn't expect to find you up here with her."

When we connected eyes, I was reminded of last night. How, simply his glance had the ability of defeating the unrest within me. This morning, it felt the opposite. His stare made me uneasy. Nervous.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, or do you just have a tone-of-voice issue?" I bit back, trying to furrow my brows at his words.

Carl lowly shook his head, holding back a smile. "Come on. . .she's a baby. The group passes her around like a hot potato. Everyone is eager to hold her, besides you."

His boots tapped against the ground. the rubber bottoms pressing a mix of dirt and fodder together. Something, again, was on his mind. I knew it from the way his body was turned at me. The way he scanned me. Something was on the tip of his tongue. He was debating speaking it. I tilted my head, awaiting whatever he was holding back. When he realized I was waiting on him, he readjusted his hat and cleared his throat.

"When we read comics," He started, warning me of what I knew he was about to start. "I was stupid. I said that you wouldn't understand, when you told me you were sorry about Judith. But, you do understand, don't you?"

I hoped that he would let it go; forget, but I had come to discover that Carl didn't like to let the past go. He talked about it like it was just as relevant as now. However, I couldn't. No amount of time could ever prepare me to speak of Allie, or her.

My sister only lived on in my head. Maggie had told me that she didn't believe Beth was truly gone until the memory of her was. I thought it was completely sensible. Only, I couldn't bring myself to bring up Allie to anyone. Most days, I dealt by pretending she'd never existed. It was awful, but it was the only way I could keep on keeping on.

"It doesn't matter, anymore." I responded, my voice faltering.

"You're wrong. It does matter." He told me.

He meant what he said. It was obvious from his serious demeanor, yet, the concept couldn't sink past my skin. After everything, talking about things, and letting them hurt, would make everything worse. It would peel me raw like an onion. It would make room for more suffering, inviting it in with open arms. It would never knock on the door, nor wipe its feet on the mat before stepping inside.

It would just accompany me, and never leave.

"You're not supposed to talk about the dead." I bounced Judith on my leg, tucking a piece of hair that had fallen from the braid, behind my ear. "How will we ever get over them, if we don't let it go?"

His boot tapped harder. He wasn't meaning to do it. If he had been aware of it, he would have stopped the second he realized. He, too, was afraid of being weak even if it was just with me. Neither of us wished to show or admit to being more than a survivor behind a gun. Carl had once called me a child soldier once out of spite—and he was right. . .but he was one too. And soldiers didn't get to feel when they were in battle. They woke up baring the weight of the dead. They never spoke of their losses. There were too many to count.

"We don't get over our losses. We accept them—and sometimes, the only way to do that is talk about it." He told me, looking at his sister now.

Carl continued, "My mom and I didn't always get along. Especially right before she died. I think she thought I hated her. . .and, sometimes, I think it's the reason she wasn't afraid to let us save Judith, and not her."

I looked to the child on my leg. She was smiling at me like Carl hadn't just told the most devastating news of her origin. His mother had died in childbirth. She'd sacrificed herself for the health of Judith.

"I've never told anyone that. That I believe I'm the reason she didn't try to survive. But—it feels good to finally say it." He finished, finally arriving at his point.

I gave my finger to Judith, who squeezed it playfully as she cooed. She was still so young. Maybe six months, which meant Carl's mom hadn't died too long ago. He'd put on such a brave face—I thought she must have perished in the beginning.

His wounds were still fresh, but the bleeding was invisible.

"I'm sorry." I responded, leaning back to look at his face better.

"Where is yours?" He asked me now. "I know your dad is dead, but you've never told me about your mom. Or your sibling."

I grimaced. "She died near the beginning. So did my sister."

He wasn't expecting me to actually respond. I could tell by the way his expression changed.

"How?" He tested the waters.

I pulled Judith close to my body now, running a hand against her soft baby hair. "I said enough."

He clasped his hands together, then leaned onto his elbows, his head twisting at his baby sister and I.

"Okay. You don't have to tell me about everything. Not about before you met us, or what happened at the hospital, or even whoever you lost. But I'll listen if the time ever comes."

With his words, for a reason I didn't understand, a deep ache traveled through my chest. It felt like I'd been shot in the sternum. I could only nod in response to his declaration. I had no inclination as to why he cared. Not a single one. And I certainly didn't understand why he trusted me with the things he carried, regarding his mother.

Months ago, we'd disliked each-other an awful amount. He wanted to end my life when we'd met. After that, we couldn't hold a conversation without arguing. If not for the forced proximity, and the copious amounts of trauma we'd endured together, we would likely still be on bad terms. It felt odd breaking the surface to this new realm. It was something like how friendship was supposed to be.

Instead of saying anything more, he took a few moments to really look at me. It was a peculiar stare—one that made me question if I had done something wrong to upset him, or if there was so much dirt on my face that he couldn't recognize my features.

Regardless of these thoughts, I came to realization, it was not a look of spite. Whatever it was, made the constant beat in my chest rise, like how it did when we ran from the dead, but, it was not that I was scared of him, or that he was a one of them. He was undoubtedly Carl, and only Carl.

"Carl? Are you two up there?" Rick's voice carried, our eyes parting.

Once the sound of his father's voice reached our eardrums, our gazes split, and we moved from each-other's sides in an instant. Carl let out a weak cough like he'd caught one of the dust bunnies in his throat, and I stood from the hay bale as quick as possible.

That was weird—really fucking weird. We both agreed on this much, seeing how rapidly we'd divided. I thought I might rather die than experience such an odd moment as that again. We'd been looking at each-other like we were both some profound abstract painting the other was trying to study.

"Yeah. Is everything okay?" Carl yelled back.

No response, for a second. Then, "Get down here."

"Let's go." Carl said, standing.

I handed off Judith to him, then proceeded, walking a few paces behind him as he trudged down the steps. When he stopped at the bottom, I hesitated with the idea of coming to his side, deciding on passing him by a couple steps instead.

"If we're all in here, we're a target." Rick said out loud, the rest of the group surrounding a wooden pillar.

I looked closer, noticing a stranger with his wrists bound behind it. Just like the people at Terminus, he was clean cut. Something about being that way seemed wrong these days, and, all of our previous encounters proved so. I felt immediate discomfort in his presence.

"We've got the area covered." Daryl told him, and I gathered that the men believed more of these strangers lurked about.

How had we not heard any of this commotion from above?

"Alright, make groups. Find somewhere safe within eyeshot." Rick instructed, waving Carl and I to follow Daryl.

I walked forward, passing the strange man a glance. When I squinted to lock eyes on him, he looked to me with the smallest smile. My brows furrowed, not even coming close to returning the greeting. Rick placed a hand on my shoulder, helping guide me past.

"What's going on?" Carl moved forward, letting Rick take hold of Judith.

His father looked at us both. "He's been watching us. The water we found? That was him. There could be more of his kind, coming for us."

Carl nodded, and I steadily followed his side as he walked to the barn doors. He pushed them open, and Rick was close behind, shutting the barrier so that he could be alone with the stranger.

For the first time, I was able to see the damage the storm had caused close up. It was all both bewildering, and dreadful to be among the large the trees, spreading across the length of the field.

Following the tracks mushed into the wet dirt, the boy and I ended up finding Daryl and Noah not too far off from the side of the structure. They both nodded to us with recognition before Daryl's crossbow was pointed back up, and Noah kept the pace with struggled steps.

His leg wasn't healing.

"Hey." I greeted Noah, leaving Carl's side to catch up with the limping boy.

He smiled at me. "Hey yourself."

I mindlessly placed the tips of my fingers against the blade holder fastened to my belt. "What did I miss? How did that man get inside?"

He grunted as he took his next step. I spared a look back at Carl, who was falling behind us all. He seemed to be surveying the area himself

"Sasha and Maggie brought him." He explained. "Apparently—he has a community nearby. He wants us to be part of it. Says we'd be 'valuable additions'."

Carl chimed in now. "How does he know how valuable we'd be?"

Noah turned to acknowledge him. "His name is Aaron, from what he told us. And—he said he'd been watching us a while, trying to gauge the kind of people we were, before he approached us."

I twisted my head in all directions, surveying the outside world. "That's not creepy at all."

Noah limped with his next step, his face contorting in either discomfort, or pain. "Rick would agree with you."

"And you don't?" Carl questioned.

Noah shrugged. "It's weird, but it makes sense to me. I'd probably watch a group before I approached them, too."

Daryl finally added to the conversation. "If he really was watchin', he knew we needed water. N' he placed it right at the point we couldn't go on any longer. Seems sadistic."

I shook my head in agreement to this. "He's right. It doesn't add up."

Carl was now right at Noah and I's side. "Or maybe it was just an act of kindness. Not everyone is evil."

I scoffed. "Right—because we have such good luck finding the good ones."

"You two," Daryl spoke out addressing Carl and I, "Pipe down."

My nose crinkled, but I obliged. Carl looked to be in genuine pain over the fact he couldn't fire back at me.

The three of us continued walking, finding nothing out of the ordinary. We stayed out until Abraham, Rosita, and Glenn arrived back safely. Only then did we track back inside, with the conformation they found the RV that Aaron had promised was parked only a few miles out.

"This, this is ours now." Rick said, picking up a can of food the others had found in the stranger's vehicle.

"There's more than enough."

Our leader shook his head. "It's ours, whether or not we go to your camp."

Carl sighed, frustrated from the looks of it. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't we go?

"If he were lying, or he wanted to hurt us," Michonne stepped forward, glancing at us all. "But he isn't, and he doesn't. We need this. . .so we're going. All of us. Somebody say something, if they feel differently."

It remained silent.

Daryl then shrugged, fumbling with his crossbow. "I don't know, man. This barn smells like horse shit."

In a sense, it was true. Whatever fears struck us, may not have been be nearly as bad in truth. Still, 'Never Again. Never Trust.', was etched into my mind. It had been a warning, after all. The good in this world died. All that was left, were the ones willing to do anything for survival. Even if it meant loosing every bit of who we were. I, for one, had been victim to such acts before. So had Carl. Everyone in the group had. Which meant, Aaron once did, too. This could've been the start of another.

"Yeah." Rick caved in. "We're goin'."

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · 3,572 words • 7:47pm

thank you for reading! i hope you all are doing well out there! <3

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sincerely yours,𝓜 ᥫ᭡.