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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧
𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝
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H E R
I had accepted that I would not get answers. That I would never know what happened.
The prison was gone, I was on my own, of that which I was sure. Coping with this existential dread, of feeling alive and dead and full of fear and not caring all at the same time. Maybe I had lost my mind a bit. I wasn't sure.
My hair, nails, skin, everything was caked in dirt and blood. I was this feral thing with unblinking eyes. I moved from place to place meaninglessly. No sight of anyone.
Maybe I was the only one left. The only human on earth.
Part of me wanted to return to the prison, search for faces I knew in the sea of the undead. Just to confirm what my heart already knew.
I would pray a lot. At first in my head, then eventually out loud. Then I began talking to Jody, which wasn't too weird. He was dead and he was my brother, maybe he could hear me. I realized I had a problem though when I started talking to Carl. Like he was standing next to me. I'd tell him jokes, sometimes we'd argue, sometimes I'd be very nice to him. Sometimes I'd split my meager food findings with him and tell him he was being rude when he never ate them.
I was up in a tree when I said: "You know what would be fun?"
Carl said nothing. Because Carl wasn't there. I pretend, anyways, that he asked me an exasperated 'what?'
"Falling." Then I let go of the branch with my hands, letting myself teeter on my toes.
I imagined Carl telling me I was being irresponsible and stupid and to just grab the God damn branch.
