EXTINCTION EVENT | CARL GRIMES

t w e n t y - f o u r ↣ contrast

"I wanted those." She jokingly rolls her eyes, accepting defeat.

"We'll split both bags. How about that?" I say, negotiating with her. The girl could have both bags of chips for all I care. I may be the one leaving, but she's clearly the one enduring the heavier end of the emotional toll. "Where'd you even get these?"

"I found them when I was on the road. There was more but I ate it." She starts, we both huff a little bit, laughing under our breaths. "I wanted to save some for you. So, even when I was hungry, I didn't touch them." She sighs. "Getting rid of it would've meant that I didn't think you were still out there. That I didn't think we'd find each other."

"What made you wait so long?" I ask, the girl is soon consumed with a look of furthered guilt, one that I didn't mean to cause. "I was starving back at that warehouse. We could've had them then." I joke, trying to repair what damage I'd just done to the girl's nerves.

"I was going to wait until you finally got your assignment so we could celebrate." She starts, the small bag crinkling in her grasp as she slightly moves her hands, somewhat using them to talk. "But I think we could both use a little cheering up, tonight."

"This doesn't have to be a sad thing, you know? There is something good coming out of all of this." I start.

"Oh yeah?" Her small voice breaks out, just above a pitiful whisper. "What's that?"

"We finally have our control. They need us here." I lower my head just a little, try to meet the girl's droopy eyes as she stares down at the water, avoiding my own. "Isn't this what we wanted? When we left?"

"When we left," She starts, a reluctant sigh breaking through her words. "We weren't thinking, Carl. They might've needed us wh—when—" Her voice abruptly stops.

Her words allude to enough darkness on their own, leaving no need for her to finish the sentence. She reminisces over the fall of the place we'd abandoned, and the probable demise of its people too. "Everything that happened back in Georgia, everything we've been through—I wouldn't change it. But it doesn't mean that we did right by our people."

"Who do you miss the most?" I start, hoping to comfort the girl by basking in her accumulating sorrow if only for a moment. "Back from the prison?"

"I don't know. I don't really like to think about it." She shakes her head before gently flipping her hair over her shoulder, finally looking at me. "Maybe Beth. God, what I would give to let her know that we're okay. Glenn too." She pulls her gaze away again, the tortured, far-away look in her eyes gleams with guilt. "What about you?"

"Michonne—my dad." I start, with an overwhelmed stutter. "I don't like to think about it either. Because when I do, I start to miss everything about it—and everyone." I shake my head as well, finally pulling my gaze away from the girl who once again refuses to meet it. "They're why I have to go. I have to stay true to why we left in the first place. I'm not doing that by having this safety that I don't deserve—that I didn't earn."

"I know it doesn't seem like it," Her gentle voice says, the raspiness evident as the girl has most likely been chatting profusely the whole night. "But I understand. I do."

Which part of it? My mind asks myself as my eyes silently ask her. How I'm feeling, why I'm feeling it, or how I'm dealing with it? The girl struggles with the denial of my departure. Her confident, relieved stature has been crumbling since the second I told her what Deanna asked of me.