dromomania |carl grimes|

7

LIES

Rick had disappeared from the house by the time we got back, Michonne was on the porch with Judith though. Her dark skin was hit perfectly by the skin, illuminating a golden glow from the setting sun. It was around November, I can tell by the way the sun sets, the short days, and of course the weather.

"Carl, can you watch Judith? Your dad left about two hours ago for the Kingdom and I haven't heard back. "

Carl nods and sits up on the porch, with that Michonne left.

"How are you feeling?" He asks me, passing a children's book to Judith. It was The Little Prince, a classic short read for those without much literary experience.

I shrug, I don't want to be here but I have no choice in reality.

"I'm alright, I just prefer not to be forced to socialize with strangers."

Carl frowns, he's social I know that, I remember from when he was young all those events at schools most kids would go to. I could never go to those, my father was very strict about when I could leave the house and who I could hang out with.

"Oh I'm sorry, the people here just get a little weird if they don't know you."

That makes sense, especially when they had just stolen a car from me and I had pointed a gun at the leader's son. Carl could have shot me, he didn't I don't know why he didn't. If I have a gun pointed at me I wouldn't hesitate to take the shot. I don't know why anyone hesitated to take that shot at me, they could have had my car and all my belongings with one shot.

I zone out, feeling Carl's icy stare on me.

"You cold?" He questions, glancing over my outfit. A thick white sweater and some jeans with rips, I couldn't remember if they were in style or if they were from one too many falls running from the dead. My boots were from Elowen, she had outgrown them like a majority of my clothes were handed down.

I nod and we retreat into the home, Judith following behind, she was so interested in the book that she's probably read it a billion times. The home was warm, as a home should be, and smelled of cinnamon as opposed to blood and death.

"Why did you go off on your own, there are sick people out here."

This was a weird question. On my own? I didn't choose to be on my own the dead man outside the house did, I chose to cower away instead of not being alone. If we had both been bitten I wouldn't be alone, granted I never would have made it to Maine but I wouldn't be without Elowen.

"I didn't choose to be alone, Carl. My friend was bitten," My response came off a little bit harder than he deserved.

In my defense, he asks all these invasive questions and then gets offended when I negatively react. I'm not a part of his group, I don't have the same memories or feelings as the people in his group.

"I-I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."

He's always apologizing, he just needs to stop being so invasive then things would be a bit better on his behalf. He needs to process my feelings before he speaks without thinking.

"What did you mean then, Carl?" Again with aggressiveness. Once is a mistake, twice maybe a slip-up but this amount, they all create my responses to Carl.

"I'm just not used to talking to people like you," Carl started.

People like me? What in the fuck is that supposed to mean? I didn't interrupt him as I wanted him to finish his bold claim.

"Why did you go without your parents anywhere, being alone and all? Like you didn't try to find me or my dad when this all started. I don't remember what your early life was like but you had to have had someone so you weren't on your own."

I shake my head, my family? Is he really that thick, surely he had no clue why I had been under his roof, maybe he thought his parents were trying to force a friendship. Maybe that's why he didn't like me when I was younger, he was an only child who felt that his privacy and his personal relationships were being violated by this younger girl. I felt like I had been a burden to that whole family, and that's why I didn't seek them out.

"Do you know why I ended up on your couch so many times?" I ask this time a lack of anger in my voice.

"Our dads were coworkers I thought, and because your dad worked graveyard and your mom was busy."

No, no, no, he doesn't know how does he not know? He spent so much of his life thinking I was just as stable as him, with a loving father and a present mother.

"No, Carl." I'm not gonna tell him, I can't it's not fair to me and to him for him to realize that he was lied to throughout his whole childhood.

He thought I was a coworker's kid, did he never make the connection between my fresh bruises and sleeping on his couch, did he think I was just accident-prone and gave myself black eyes? That one time my father broke my arm, Rick took me to the hospital and stayed with me and let me stay at his house for a few days before Lori made him kick me out. He thought I broke my own arm or did he even know it was broken?

"What do you mean no?"

I didn't answer, I'm not going to.

"I needed to be on my own, I was safer on my own."

Carl looked over for me waiting for a reply to his first question, he wasn't gonna get that from me.

"Bubba, I'm hungry," Judith says.

Thank God she can disrupt his thought because otherwise who knows who would have broken that awkward standoff.

"Alora, are you hungry?" Carl asks.

I have always had a poor relationship with food, the apocalypse just solidified it. One meal a day is enough for me, even if it is just toast and jam.

"No, I'm good." Carl disappears into the kitchen with Judith trailing behind him.

I retreat back to the place that for 29 more days will call my room. I sort through my belongings, noticing a lack of weapons in my supply. They don't want to say it out loud but they say it with their actions, they don't trust me.