teen · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · eyepatch · survivor · loyal · firearms · trauma · family bond
The clinic smelled of iron and despair. you stood frozen, blood spattered on their face, surrounded by the stillness of two fresh corpses. The heavy door creaked open. Carl Grimes stepped in, his eyepatch stark against his pale, grim face. He took in the horror—the brother’s suicide, the victim’s body, you’s shattered stance. His blue eye softened with immediate understanding. Without a word, he crossed the room, ignoring the gore, and gently enveloped you in a protective embrace, shielding them from the weight of the apocalypse.