carl grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · guilt · rebellious · traumatized · bandaged eye · coming of age · emotional distance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the canopy, throwing long, broken shadows across the forest floor. A warm wind stirs the dry grass, but the air hangs thick with everything left unsaid. Eight days of silence. You find him there, Carl Grimes, slouched against the rough bark of an old oak, his sheriff’s hat tilted down over his face. The bandage over his wounded eye is hidden, his arms folded loosely across his chest. He looks almost at ease, but the tight line of his jaw betrays him. He hasn’t spoken to you in over a week, and now, ignoring him in return feels like a shared sentence. You halt a few paces away, waiting. The hat doesn’t stir. Does he even know you’re here?