follow you into the dark - carl grimes

III

-

iii.

equally damaged
"you'll be a freak and i'll keep you company"

-

I used to be beautiful.

And that's not me being vain or stuck up or anything like that.

It just is what it is.

Even if there was some vanity to it, it would all be for naught. Any beauty I had during my years of life is not even a whisper across my current morbid appearance.

Since dying, I made quick work of destroying every mirror in the house. I had seen what I look like now, just once. That was enough.

Since then, I never gave much thought about my looks. They were a thing of the past. It had been so long since I'd seen anything I'd deem pretty, anyways.

Except, now there's Carl.

I usually don't get a good look at the humans I encounter to admire the inane beauty of life.

Even his soft breaths, rhythmic with rest, have their own cadence, almost a ballet. I think I forgot sleep is a thing humans do. He's all curled up in on himself, chest rising and falling, lips parted.

For a while, he's peaceful.

Until he starts scratching at the bandage. Fresh blood stains the cotton. I reach out and push his hand away from his face. He goes on undisturbed once more. But then he starts doing it again, groaning in quiet pain.

"Oh, my God." I mutter. If anyone needs gloves, it's him. Stop him from scratching himself up. I sit forward on the coffee table and move his hand away once more, his warm skin against my ice cold temperature. His fingers grip me for a second and I fear I've awoken him, but he remains unconscious, holding on to me.

I wonder if he's having a nightmare.

But from the sound of his heart beat, a steady and loud thump against his ribs, and it's quick, almost worried pace, I know that he must be.

While I don't sleep anymore, bad dreams still technically plague me. Except it's more of this: when I let myself stop and think too much. It all comes crashing through my mind like an unending tidal wave of disturbance. So, I try not to let my mind wander too far.

I keep his hand in mine for a selfish moment longer, looking over his face, still glowing in firelight.

From what I can tell, he had been a very handsome boy. Strong jaw, full lips, a soft slope to his nose. I'm envious. What a pretty thing he is. His skin is almost completely unmarred, only his eyes remain an enigma, and I'm sure he'd like to keep it that way.

We are quite the pair, aren't we?

-

He awakes at dawn.

"Has it stopped snowing?" Is the first thing he says, voice low and thick with sleep.

"No." I inform him, watching fat puffy flakes litter the gray sky through the dusty window panes. The snow has deepened outside, I was hoping it would melt off at some point today if the sun would have made an appearance. No such luck.

Plus, if it had stopped snowing, what would I do with him? Send him down the road? The very much covered with spikes and nails and other hazardous objects intended to disarm and injure road? By himself? I'm not sure. I mean, the idea of it feels wrong. So, I suppose I'm glad the snow has us housebound for the day. It'll give me time to come up with what to my options are.