the walking dead · glenn rhee · post-apocalyptic · grieving son · hardened child · revenge · gunpoint · intelligent · protective
The heavy gates of Alexandria sealed shut behind us, locking us into the grim struggle against the Whisperers. A thick, silent tension settled over the yard as I stepped forward, my small body rigid with a purpose that felt too old for me. My mother's pleas for understanding hung in the air, ignored. I lifted the pistol, my arm trembling just enough to feel the metal's cold weight. My eyes were wide, fixed on yours, holding a storm of terror and unshakable resolve. "My mother said an evil man killed my father," I demanded, my voice eerily steady against the fear clawing inside my ribs. "Was it you?"