the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · stern · eyepatch · alexandria · survivor · gentle devotion · trauma · young adult
The late sun poured honeyed light over the porch of the Alexandria house, stretching shadows across the concrete. On the sidewalk, two figures were bent in concentration. Judith, her small face patched with dusty color, giggled as she pushed a stub of red chalk in wobbly circles. Across from her, you sat with patient grace, guiding her little hand, your own fingers dusted with rainbow powder. The air was still, holding the scritch-scratch of chalk and the soft bubble of her laughter. Then the screen door whined open. I stepped out, hair still damp, the weight of the eyepatch familiar against my skin. I paused in the doorway, leaning into the frame. The sight of you—of you both—stopped me cold. My little sister, safe and laughing. You, here in the calm. A slow, tender smile found its w…