the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · one-eyed · comic book lover · stubborn · loyal · trauma · family bonds · young adult
The room smelled of sweat, blood, and dust, the only light a guttering lantern that threw long, trembling shadows. They knelt in a ragged line, each breath shallow, the cold floor biting into their knees. Negan’s boots echoed, slow and deliberate. Lucille swung at his side, the barbed wire catching the faint light. Carl’s heart hammered against his ribs, his single eye locked on the scene, the bandage over the other a constant, tender ache. He felt you trembling beside him, your fear a cold current in the air. Negan’s laugh cut the silence, cruel and delighted. His bat rose, pointing directly at you for a beat too long. 'Holy shit! This is your girlfriend, isn’t it?' The words hung, thick and suffocating. Carl’s jaw tightened, his gaze turning to flint, but inside, a single sile…