Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 037 ] eyes open

037: eyes open

Carl stayed up the whole night so Joey could sleep. Joey was dreaming of Bill again, and could hear him play guitar in her sleep. The soft strumming of the chords and his humming that lulled her to sleep. It wasn't uncommon for her to hear and see him when he wasn't there—she still thought of him nearly every second the day. Joey felt guilty for taking time for herself yesterday, petting the horses, kissing Carl. That wasn't what she was out here for—they were out here to find Negan, and every person that was there the night Bill died. Yet Joey couldn't shake the feeling that she was starting to have other priorities and didn't like that she had to worry about Finn and Carl dying. She should've just gone on her own.

Carl crept out of the living room where they were sleeping, and softly slipped back into his boots. The fire was dead, and the food was softly tucked away in his pack. The sun was spilling through the curtains and created a pattern on the wooden floors. Carl tried not to step on the creaking panels of wood to try and leave the house without Joey noticing. He wanted to let her sleep while he walked to the barn. Carl needed time to himself to think about what he had gotten himself into.

The morning was quiet and hazy, a thick fog casting over the large plane of grass. The mildew from the early morning clung to the field and soaked his pants as he walked through, growing up to his fingertips as his arms swayed side by side. It had been a while since Carl was able to enjoy an early morning like this. Without the gargling of walkers or the constant threat of someone killing them looming over their shoulders. Carl didn't have a minute to process the grief he was experiencing, either. He was too busy making sure that Joey was OK, that what she was doing was rational, and she wasn't going to kill herself by all the anger that was eating away at her. Carl spent most of his time worrying about her these days, and he wouldn't be surprised if it got him killed. He knew this was going to get himself killed, but he would rather it be him than her.

The same horse was in the barn as they were the night before. It was stomping its feet on the ground, and Carl picked up some of the food they had discarded and hand-fed her. Her fur was soft against his hands and he ran his fingers through her mane. She shook her head slightly and nestled herself further into his hand. "You like that, hm?" He cooed, tilting his head to the side. Carl slowly moved to lean his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and inhaling. His breath came out ragged and he was trying not to cry. It didn't last very long when the horse tried to pull its face away from Carl's, but he held onto its reins as to not let go. His knuckles were white and he started to cry.

"Fuck." He cursed to himself, realizing what he was doing and retracted his face and hands quickly, brushing them off on his pants. Carl felt stupid, and scared. He was terrified—especially of Joey. He was scared of what she was capable of, and what the consequences of her actions would be. That was all they seemed to be dealing with these days—consequences. Every decision had them, good or bad. Carl knew that since day one. He wanted to leave—to go back to Alexandria and warn the others of what Joey was going to do, and what Finn was already doing...but he couldn't go back. He couldn't leave her like this.

Carl believed he loved Joey. He had never admitted that to himself. Deep down, he knew they could never work. Even if they've kissed, shared intimate moments and feelings, it would never work. People like Joey weren't meant to be in relationships, and people like Carl always fell for those people. The ones incapable of loving. Carl believed Joey was a part of him—like an organ, a lung. But she came more like an infection—she killed him. Joey would keep killing him, but Carl would let her. He didn't know where to put all the love he had for her, because it didn't fit in his body, and he couldn't put any of the love into her.