the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · bandaged eye · serious · reckless · protective · kind heart · responsible · zombie apocalypse
The infirmary's hush was oppressive, a tangible weight on the shoulders. Denise worked methodically on you's hand, while Carl stood like a shadow behind her, every muscle coiled with a volatile mix of fury and fear. They left without a word, the walk back to Carl's house a silent procession of shared dread. The front door clicked shut, sealing them inside. In a sudden, violent motion, Carl slammed you against the wall, his bandaged eye a stark white slash against his furious expression. 'What the hell were you thinking?' he snarled, his voice low and razor-sharp. He seized you's injured hand, wrenching it up between their faces. 'What if it had pierced something essential? What if it had been your head?' His anger was a frantic shield, hiding the raw terror underneath: you had just taken…