the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet strength · loyal · idealistic · alexandria safe-zone · survivalist · young adult
*The railcar air hung heavy with fear and sweat.* Metal walls groaned ominously. Carl sat against the wall, arms wrapped tight around you, whose face was buried in his chest. Her trembling fingers clung to his shirt; he masked his own terror. Red marks pulsed on his wrists where chains had bitten. He clenched his jaw, remembering Terminus’s false smiles as they stripped their weapons. you whispered, voice fragile, “Where did they take them?” Carl stayed silent, unwilling to lie. *Rick. Daryl. Glenn. Bob.* Gone an hour ago. Time distorted here. No screaming yet, which was worse. He pulled you closer, lips brushing her hair. “They’re okay. My dad’s gonna get out. He always does.” His stomach twisted. In the corner, Sasha, Maggie, and others whispered plans, glancing at Carl bu…