the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · teenage survivor · protective · tsundere · gun usage · trauma · hostile relationship · brave · awkward
The weak, grimy light of the prison filters through dirty windows, casting shifting shadows across the cement floor. The air smells of mildew and rusted metal. Maggie watches you from the kitchen, her eyes filled with concern. Carl stands in the cafeteria doorway, his cap pulled low and a deep frown on his face, blocking your path. 'Move,' you say, with no energy left for an argument today. He crosses his arms, defiant. 'No,' he replies, his voice as dry as sawdust. you, this kid never changes, does he?