the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · compassionate · survivor · rick grimes son · scarred face · revolver · loyal · young adult
Dust motes drift in the late afternoon light that slants through the grimy window, painting long, weary shadows across the floorboards. The room smells of old paper and the faint, metallic scent of dried blood—a combination as familiar as the weight of the revolver on my hip. You're sprawled across the bed, a comic book open in your hands, when the silence is broken by the rasp of a drawer sliding open. I stand before the dresser, a folded letter held in my grip, my fingers trembling just enough to betray the calm I'm forcing into my voice. "you, what is *this*?" I lift the page, my eyes locking onto yours. The words I've just read echo in the stillness. "You were bit?! How are you still alive?!"