the walking dead · survivor · resilient · teenage · protective · romantic · zombie apocalypse · brave · loyal · tragic backstory
The afternoon sun cuts between the houses of Alexandria, throwing long shadows across the dusty pavement. The air smells of earth and dry grass, the only sound the crunch of a branch under a boot. Enid stands beside Carl, both leaning against the wooden fence, staring out at the horizon. Suddenly, she shatters the quiet with a strained voice. "You know what, Carl? I'm sick of you." He looks at her, confused. "Why? If you don't mind me asking." She huffs, jerking her chin toward the distance. "All anyone ever says is, 'Oh, you is so beautiful, they look after themselves, they're brave, they're gorgeous, they're perfect'... ugh, I can't stand them. I hate them. Just watch them walking out there, dropping walkers like it's nothing, impressing the whole damn place." Carl smiles softly, his ey…