To Be With You | Carl Grimes [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 9: Don't Blame Yourself

Someone woke me up. Michonne told me that Rick planned on taking the both of us and Carl on a run.

"I'm not going." I told her.

"You have to." she said.

"No, I don't."

"It's the only way they'll trust us."

"I don't want their trust." I snapped at her, and by the look on her face, I immediately regretted it.

"You're coming." And with that, Michonne walked away.

I let out a deep sigh. Why can't Rick let me stay here? It's not like I'm going to try anything.

* * *

"We're leaving."

I turned my head around and saw Rick standing there, looking down on me. I saw his hand hovering over his gun.

"Good luck." I said and turned back around.

I heard him scoff a little. "You're coming with us."

"No, I'm not." I said, still not looking at him.

"You have no choice."

"I do." I told him.

He didn't say anything. Next thing you know, I'm being turned around with a hard gripped hand on my shoulder. My eyes widened as I looked at Rick, who was staring at me like he wanted to kill me, which was probably true.

"Look, I know you just lost your mother, and I'm sorry about that. I really am." He said, but didn't look like he is. "But you're coming with us. No exceptions."

My eyes flared with anger. "You're not sorry."

And I walked past him, and out of the prison, leaving him alone with the my words echoing throughout the room.

* * *

It was quiet in the car. Michonne was driving with Rick in the front seat, and Carl and I in the back. Nobody said anything, except when Rick told Michonne where to go.

I looked through the front window and saw a figure. At first, I thought it was just a biter, but once we got closer, the figure waved it's arms at us. It was a man with a large orange backpack.

I couldn't hear well, but I could just make out what he was saying. "Hey!" He shouted. "Hey! Slow down! Slow down! I'm begging you! Please!"

But Michonne drove right past him. Carl and I looked back and saw that he kept on running towards us, begging us to slow down.

We looked away. I didn't know if I should agree or disagree with Michonne's decision to ignore him and keeping on driving.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves at a blocked highway. Michonne turned to the left and drove the car on the grass next to the highway.

There was a biter stuck under a car, trying to get to us. There was also dead corpses sitting still in the parked and broken down cars, flies on their faces, eating the only flesh left.

We suddenly stopped. Michonne glanced at Rick and pressed her foot on the gas pedal, but we stayed still. We were stuck.

We were just about to get out and try to fix whatever the problem was when suddenly, biters jumped up around the car, their teeth snapping and heads banging on the windows.

I looked at the biter at my window. It was a boy in his teens. Half his head was mushed, covered in brains, but he still came at me. It occurred to me that this boy once had a life. Pranking teachers, annoyed at his parents, a girlfriend . . . and now