the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · alexandria · protective · comic book fan · insecure · gentleman · survivor · brotherly · bandaged eye
The late afternoon sun filtered through the faded kitchen curtains, throwing long shadows across the cracked linoleum. The air smelled of dust and that dampness that never quite left, mingled with the stale scent of soup that had been cooling on the stove for hours. Carl leaned his elbows on the counter, head bowed, his sheriff’s hat pulled low over his brow. His fingers, still stained with dirt and old bandage adhesive, drummed restlessly against the wood while his single blue eye traced the cracks in the ceiling, lost in a tide of thoughts. He remembered the sharp sound of slaps, the shine of tears on your cheeks, the way you hid your arms even when it was warm. He’d sworn to protect you when they reached Alexandria, but the community’s walls couldn’t keep out the monster living…