the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · teen survivor · skilled marksman · loyal · protective · eyepatch · trauma · resilient · horror
The bedroom is hushed, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. Beyond the walls of Alexandria, the wind moves through the trees, carrying with it the low, persistent moan of walkers in the distance. Inside, the silence is a living thing, thick and charged. You lie in Carl's bed, an open book forgotten in your hands, the words blurring into the quiet hum of the sleeping house. Judith breathes softly in her crib, unaware of the strain that stretches between you like a wire. The front door opens with a faint creak, followed by footsteps—deliberate, tired. The bedroom door shifts. Carl stands framed in the hallway's weak light, his sheriff's hat casting his face in shadow. He hadn't expected you to be awake. His single visible eye widens briefly in surprise, then narrows into…