dromomania |carl grimes|

18

HEALING

Recovery is hard maybe that's why my dad could never do it, although he never made the effort to get better. You have to be strong to do those things, I had to recover from starving myself, I am strong.

My ankle is still swollen a week after my fight, I haven't spoken to Carl but Sainte has kept me company while I've been healing. Rowan hasn't visited but he writes notes, he says that Carl makes him a bit uncomfortable.

Judith also welcomed me back with more coloring books and many questions about where I was. She is the sweetest child, I know she couldn't grasp the concept of killing a traitor but God damn she was sweet and it felt nice to dumb stuff down. Michonne comes in daily to help with my ankle and to make sure my cuts are healing correctly.

"Sainte, I never asked you this but why are you British?" I ask, sitting on the bed with a book in my hands.

Sainte laughs and shrugs. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose puffy braid, and her grey hoodie was baggy on her thin structure but it kept her warm. 

"How's Carl doing?" I say, quickly biting back my tongue. Sainte raises an eyebrow, she holds up her hand wavering it sideways, as to say so-so.

"I miss him, Sainte. I hate him so much but God I miss him."

She nods softly, she knows how I feel about him. At least I hope, I'm not sure how I entirely feel about him, he betrayed me but I can't help but feel remorse and care for the one-eyed cowboy. 

"He probably misses you too, Alora," Sainte tells me. A big smile comes to my face when I hear her voice. She has a pretty voice, unusual for the region she lives in, but pretty nonetheless.

"I want to believe that but I shot the girl he was interested in."

She shrugs, "She deserved it."

She did deserve it, I don't doubt that for a second. We couldn't have done anything earlier with that large group she was with, I don't know how bad that group is but if they saw me as an issue I can only assume the worst. She lied to the people I care about, Carl, Rick, Maggie, and Glenn but not Michonne. They thought I was the devil reincarnated and that is a type of betrayal I don't know if I can forgive. 

The book in my hands was something short of a book, I mindlessly flipped through the source of entertainment, but no enjoyment. It was a book Sainte had brought over, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. It could only keep me entertained for so long, especially with how bad my dyslexia and eyesight have been. 

"I wanna go outside, Sainte."

She looks worried, looking over my wrapped-up ankle. She's like an older sister despite the age difference, worried over my death but in all honesty, she is worrying rightfully so. 

"I'll stay off of my ankle I just want to get some sun. Please Sainte." 

She nods softly, not speaking a whole ton. She's spoken to me occasionally, not to anyone else though. She only speaks to me, I'm not entirely sure why she keeps mute to the world. 

I stand up and instantly she's by my side, ready to assist if I need it.

"I had quite a few broken bones as a kid, I'll be damned if my busted ankle messes me up," I tell her as I use the wall as a support to move.

Sainte watches me carefully as I walk, I'm not sure if she could support my weight, the end of the world makes people stronger. I don't weigh a whole ton, probably around 120 lbs, and 5'4.

She opens the bedroom door for me, I haven't left the room since the surgery, thankfully there's a bathroom attached to my room. 

Carl was napping on the couch in the living room, seeing him made me smile. It's nice knowing that he's okay, I care about him, that makes him dangerous to me.

His hair was sprawled on his hand and his hat sat on the coffee table, he looked peaceful. Sainte taps my hand and motions to keep going so we don't disturb the sleeping boy. 

We make it out to the front porch, I sit down on the bench out front, it was nice and comforting to be outside. The warm sun brushes my pale skin, I've kissed death it's not a shock I'm as ivory as a ghost. My lips were once stained by blood and I'm surprised I can still see how much blood caked my vision after that fight. 

Sainte leaned against the rail dipping her head back so her face hit the sky. 

"You know you don't have to stay here the whole time, I bet Rowan misses you," I tell her, she glances over at me and smiles with a shake of her head. 

"We're friends, Alora. "

I nod, this time taking the role of the mute friend as I soak in the sunshine. I have no perception of time when I'm inside, I'm not well enough to figure it out to the minute but it's in the late afternoon. The sun is so warm, it's odd it's a winter sun, shouldn't be this warming but it is. 

Alexandria is such an oasis in a desert, with people I care about, running water, electricity, doctors, and safety from the dead. 

"When you were unconscious, he wouldn't leave your side, he was so worried for you," Sainte says, not looking at me, still having her eyes fixed on the cloudy sky. 

He was Carl, I know that to my soul. That makes me smile, I know he cares he just doesn't know how to show it properly. In all honesty, I don't know how to show it either. All I know is to hide and treat from feelings even though this friendship with Sainte is hard to comprehend. Elowen was always so easy to talk to, she knew what to say she knew my platonic love language. 

The front door creaked and a tired-looking Carl stood in the doorway, his hat in his hand, and his hair was a frizzy mess. He looks good as odd as it sounds. 

"Hey..." His voice sounds distant like he's speaking from a mile away. 

"Hi Carl," I say softly, I don't want to cause any more problems with him. 

Carl's brain was buzzing, it sounds like a beehive he has so many thoughts in that pretty head. Thoughts that were fighting over what would hurt me and what would heal me, in reality, there is very little that he could say to hurt me any more than he has already.  His mouth quivered as he ran through what to say in his head even though his lips told his secret.

"I'm so sorry, Alora."

That was one of the few hurtful things, I hate hearing him say he's sorry. He hurt me, he betrayed me, that was Carl. He did those things while thinking, even if he was pussywhipped that's no excuse for throwing an innocent person in jail to be killed by the same girl that made everyone hate her. 

He means it though, at least according to Judith, he doesn't say sorry. 

I look up at the boy, the one who hurt me, defended my killer, and wanted me dead, he was crying. Tears glided out of his sky-blue iris, his face was puffy and red, and tears stained his cheeks with glitter on his pale skin.

 Carl was crying for my forgiveness.