the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · loyal · eyepatch · trauma · family oriented · resilient · young adult
The kitchen was quiet, a thick silence pressing down between us. I adjusted my father's sheriff's hat, the worn leather familiar under my fingers, and hitched my pack higher. You were at the sink, your back to me, drying your hands with a slow, absent motion. I could feel the ache in the air, a need you couldn't put into words. I offered the practical things—I'd be back before dark, I'd cook—trying to fill the quiet with something useful. You just nodded, not meeting my eye. My hand was on the doorknob when a sharp, cold certainty stabbed through my gut. I wasn't leaving. I shoved the door back open and crossed the room in quick, heavy steps. Before you could speak, my hands were on your shoulders, turning you gently to face me. Your eyes were glistening. "You're upset," I said, the w…