Who We Are | TWD

.051

"Rick, please! No!" I sob through my tears, not wanting him to leave me, too. I don't want him to be reckless right now. He can't be. He doesn't listen.

Rick opens the door. Michonne must've heard my cries because she's already yelling after him. I go to reach for his hand to pull him back or plead with him, I'm not sure yet, but I'm too late and he's already pulling the door shut behind him and leaving me alone.

I shudder, the barrier between us closing for good and making me feel even more helpless than I was before. Carl is unconscious on the table beside me and Rick is out there fighting for something he can't fix on his own.

"Rick's out there," Michonne says frantically.

"Hold on," Denise says.

"He needs my help."

"Just one more suture."

"But he's out there."

"This is his son. Give me a second," Denise replies.

"He's taking them all on. We have to go get him," Aaron says.

"What?" This comes from Spencer and causes me no surprise.

"We have to. This is it.

"I can go," I offer, my voice seeming a billion miles from my body as the words come out.

"Absolutely not," Michonne replies immediately, shutting down my ideas without hesitation. "You're staying here."

"Okay, got it," Denise says, seemingly having finished the suture. With that, Michonne plants a quick kiss on Carl's forehead before sprinting out the door, the others following suit. Even Spencer goes along. It's only Denise and I now, standing in the otherwise empty room. The only difference between us is that I'm actually just standing there, whereas she is scrambling to save Carl's life.

I can't just stay here and do nothing. I know that, even if Michonne thinks otherwise. With Denise distracted by Carl, I slowly back my way towards the door, gripping my knife handle before I can think about doing anything else. I have to do this.

"Don't go," Denise says, not even looking up from the task at hand.

"You can't tell me what to do," I speak back, anger overriding my respect or gratitude for what she's doing at the moment to keep Carl alive.

Denise shakes her head. "You're right: I can't. But I'm telling you that's not a good idea."

"Yeah? Well, what am I supposed to do then?" I shout the words at her, emotions flooding through me. "They need help out there."

"I need you in here. So does Carl. If a single one of those walkers makes it past them and towards us, I need someone else to protect me. Got it?" I know it's a weak excuse to prevent me from going out there. A single walker couldn't break the door down. As long as it stays shut, she and Carl would both be fine inside. Just the same, I have no more energy to argue.

Cautiously, I step towards the gurney where Carl is laying. I feel my hands begin to tremble, so grab at the hem of my pants in an effort to stop it. I can't see him this way, his breathing shallow and his face covered in stains of his own, dried blood. Denise still continues to finish her job of fixing him up. She had finished the sutures when Michonne was still here, but I know a lot of the damage, specifically the aesthetics of this injury, won't be able to be repaired.

"He's going to be alright," Denise says, almost as if reading my mind. "He's going to live." She quickly checks his vitals before walking from the table and getting a bowl of water and a washcloth. Carrying the items back to the gurney, she hands them to me. "Take these. Clean up the blood while I get the bandages." I set Carl's hat to the side, not wanting it to leave my hands, but also aware that it must. I grab the bowl from her hands, dipping the washcloth into the warm water. Despite my forehead shining with sweat, my hands are frigid.