Crestfallen ↬ Carl Grimes (old version)

C A T A S T R O P H I C

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: CATASTROPHIC

❝This is the song I only sing when you're sleeping. These are the words I say when you can't hear me. This is the way I look when you can't see me. And you will never know.❞

❝She didn't do those things because she felt sorry for herself or because she wanted attention. No. She only did them to feel the satisfaction of watching something crumble in front of her blurred vision. Something she did. Something she could actually control. ❞

➳

THE SUN HUNG LOW IN THE SKY, hiding beneath wisps of clouds as it expands it's light lazily across the neighboring trees. Strangely enough, the air was a hot-humid temperature, thick and claustrophobic in the outside air. It almost seemed as if nature was rebelling, for the trees winked light browns and dark reds with every breeze that fluttered by, the obvious signs of Autumn taking its toll.

Milah hadn't realized how much time she had taken inside the small, broken down building. When she had first entered, the sun dangled boringly in the mid-afternoon sky. Now, as she peered through the hazy light of dusk to gaze at the shadowing sign tilted unceremoniously above the broken glass front door, she could feel the familiar aching pain of guilt rooting itself throughout her stomach. It was silly and stupid of her to feel guilty, that she was sure of. For it wasn't her fault that the past three pharmacies she had looted lacked the amount of medication she desired. But no matter what, through the guilt and pain, she needed to figure out a way to make things better before they got any worse.

The girl had broken down inside of this crumbling building. That's what had taken up most of her time. When the medication didn't just suddenly appear in front of her and make everything okay again, she collapsed. She screamed. She cried. She threw everything in arm's reach against the barren walls, adding on to the vast amount of glass and junk that littered the vinyl flooring. She didn't do those things because she felt sorry for herself or because she wanted attention. No. She only did them to feel the satisfaction of watching something crumble in front of her blurred vision. Something she did. Something she could actually control. Because she had no other alternative but to stop lying to herself. After all of this time, she had to give up. For this was her last chance, and she blew it.

Painfully, Milah took one last glance at the crumbling sign, watching as fragments of dust and debris fall away to the push of the gentle breeze. Throughout it all, she had yet to feel the loss of hope in her chest. For she still had her dad to go back to. And with him, she had to be strong. She had to pretend. She had to plaster a smile on her covered up face and pretend that everything was okay. Because everything needed to be okay. And without hope, nothing would ever get better. She had to trust that, for what other choice did she have?

With one shaky footstep forward, Milah began her long journey back towards her temporary settlement, the empty bag on her back taunting her with each and every bump and crack along the road. With her left hand clenched and her right hand resting lazily upon the sheath of her newfound knife, most onlookers would believe that she was just a scared, small, defenseless little girl who didn't know what to do with such a weapon attached to her waist. But as you must already know, that wasn't nearly close to the truth. Sure, she barely had gotten any practice with the sharp blade clinging desperately onto her midsection, but that didn't mean that she wasn't dangerous with it.

But there were no onlookers. There never was. But was that necessarily a bad thing? Unless you counted the Risen, nothing ever bothered her. Even now, on the dusty road that she walked, there was barely even a trickle of these rotting corpses; meager enough to not place anxiety into the young girl's mind.