t h i r t y ↣ dismay

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M E G A N

"What's a six letter word for distress?"

"Why don't you try giving me the whole hint?" Carl exaggerates.

The two of us lounge across the surface of my bed—in Ron's old bedroom—as to distract ourselves from everything going on around us. It seems as if, for the first time in days, we've finally managed to sneak away and have a few peaceful moments of our own.

"Six-letter word; Ends with a Y." I mutter, just underneath a huff. My finger traces along the last of the empty blanks on the page. "The description is: consternation and distress, typically caused by something unexpected."

I sit, slouched over my criss-crossed legs. My crinkled crossword puzzle—that I have yet to finish—sits, perched on my lap.

Carl's head lies on my pillow. His hat sits on his chest and his arms stay folded behind his head as he pretends to ponder the context of the mystery word. In reality, the boy can not care less about my means of a distraction. He's just happy that I've shut up about my worries, for a moment.

For the last few minutes, the guilt of trying to enjoy myself has eaten me alive. It's not the best feeling, knowing that I can't do anything to help our group as they travel outside the walls.

"Sounds familiar," I start. A humorless chuckle leaves from between my lips. "Fearing the unexpected."

Some of our people went out searching for Daryl, who went out searching for the Saviors, himself.

Then, Rick and Morgan took it upon themselves to go search for Carol, who disappeared in the middle of the night. Nearly all of our people—who venture outside the walls—sent themselves out into the danger of the same group that is responsible for Denise's death.

"Hey," Carl mutters, shifting around before sitting up. Moving his hat to the side with one hand, he places the other on my bent knee. "I thought we came up here to forget about all of it. The minute we can do something to help, we'll know about it. Okay?"

"Yeah." I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. "Yeah." Although my words attempt to agree with Carl, my stone-cold expression stays the same.

"Look at me." My eyes open, flicking from their hard stare at the page, up towards Carl's eye. The boy then uses his hand to gently wiggle my knee back and forth. "Everything will be alright."

EXTINCTION EVENT | CARL GRIMESWhere stories live. Discover now