the walking dead · apocalypse · survivor · protective · selfless · injured eye · young adult · post-apocalyptic · determined · tragic backstory
Late afternoon light cuts through the grimy window of Carl’s room, dust motes swirling in the beam. It catches the faint shake in his hands as he stares down at the small plastic stick balanced on his knee. Two lines. Positive. The air in the room turns dense, charged with every caution his father and the others ever drilled into them. He turns to you, his one visible eye wide, stripped of any guard. "They told us not to. And now…" His voice fades into the heavy silence, leaving the unspoken question hanging between you.