"𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞„

fourteen, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗑𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇

Carl grimes sat upright, awoken from a bad dream.
It was Jane, running, sprinting towards him. He could almost feel the fibres of her hair, the softness of her hands - the taste of her lips. But before he could even get close to her, she was gone, and his eyes were open.

He didn't scream, or thrash. He just sat, soaked by his own sweat. Running one hand through his long hair, he sighed. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again after that, so he got up, taking a seat at his desk.

Too hot. He was too hot. He practically ripped his shirt off, because any second longer in the thing was sure to strangle him.

He peered into the mirror, looking at his foggy reflection. He looked rough, and he was. He felt like it, at least. The lines and creases defining his face seemed to have darkened, and his hair was matted and frizzy. Grabbing his brush, he sloppily combed through his locks, still staring deeply into his own eyes.

"Stop." He said, almost startling himself.
"Stop it, Jane. Leave me alone." He wasn't sure what it was then, why he thought, or even said these words. Truth was, they didn't help. They just made him angry. Angry that everything happening around him was uncontrollable, and, even after a year in Alexandria, he couldn't move on. He told himself, on his second day here, that he would push it away.

And he did, but only around the others. It was times like these, late at night when everything would come ricocheting back to him, and she would scream for him in his dreams. She would invade his thoughts, his mind, all at once, making it impossible to get any sleep.

He just accepted it now, because pushing it away made it worse. The other kids here didn't like him. They were scared of him, but what would they think if they knew what went on in his bedroom at 2am?

What would his dad think? What would he say?

Carl thought he was strong before Jane. Now, he wasn't so sure. Because how can one person, one that hasn't been seen in nearly 2 years, affect anyone this much?

No one else suffered like Carl did. Not on the surface, anyway. No one else except Carol Peletier.

Carol missed Jane every night, and every morning. But she didn't regret not looking for her.
Not one bit.
She truly believed that Jane was gone, which made it so much easier to just grieve. Hope is a dangerous thing for anyone like her to have.

Carl decided to just get up now, getting dressed and ready for the day. Raising his curtain, he realised the light was just beginning to scratch the surface of the sky, and in-between the spots of dark cloud were breakthroughs of brilliant purples and pinks.

Today was no normal day. Today was Jane Peletier's sixteenth birthday. He knew this, but the thought occurred to him that she probably didn't, wherever she was. He thought for a moment, still staring at the sky.

Fuck it. I'm going out there.

Grabbing his gun and his knife, he tiptoed out of the house he shared with Rick, Michonne, Judith and Daryl.  He left, leaving only a note that scribbled: going out will be back soon. Carl

He clambered over the wall effortlessly, and ventured into the forest. It was only a ten minute walk to the old barn they stayed in, just before discovering Alexandria.

He looked around the outside of it, the wood still as rotted as it once was. He had been back several times since their arrival at the town, each one as boring as the next. There was nothing in that old thing, and he didn't see the point in going in and taking in the smell of fertiliser for nothing.

Walking straight past the barn, he continued on, into the thicker parts of the woods.

Hearing a walker, he unsheathed his knife and wasted no time piercing its skull, it's head deflating like a balloon on contact. Gross. As the blood splayed all over his hands, he cursed. One thing about the apocalypse: you're never clean.