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The only thing Mia smelled was blood. It lingered in her nose and stained her skin. It was a foul smell. Her hands were red, a constant reminder of the sins she created for herself. A blazing fire erupted inside her. A fire of rage that she felt for the world turning into a bloodbath. At the same time, she was fearful. Nobody ever told her that grief felt so much life fear. The sensation of fire related to being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness; Mia kept on swallowing the grief with a dry throat like a pill with no water.
Grief is a world of its own and Mia was a new immigrant inside it.
"Thought maybe there'd be some house this way," Michonne exhaled deeply. "Maybe even a store. There's got to be some food around here somewhere."
Mia forgot about the hunger she was feeling and it was replaced by rot.
"Hey, look." Carl spoke when he spotted something.
They looked ahead and saw an abandoned vehicle just a few feet away. The front was busted and the window was cracked with lines spiraling like a spider web. As she got closer to it, the more the fear bubbled inside her. She slowly walked around it with the knife clutched in her hand. Rick and Carl looked through it to make sure there were no walkers.
It was empty. Mia looked up and caught Carl's eye.
That night when the sky grew pitch black, Mia laid in the backseat of the car. Carl was in the passenger seat. They tried to sleep but she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. No matter how tired she was, she couldn't sleep. As she stared into the darkness of the car, she felt tears build up.
There was crash inside her. It started small and slowly started to build up. A tear slid down her dirty cheek. "Carl?"
It was silent at first. "Yeah?"
"Do you think about what your life would be like if the apocalypse didn't hit?" She asked with a crack in her voice. "Like do you think you would have met everyone like Michonne or Daryl?"
Carl pondered her question from the front seat. He couldn't sleep either. Mostly because he was afraid if he did that something would happen. His dad and Michonne sat by a fire a few feet away. "I think about it sometimes," he admitted. He did, truthfully. He thought about it a lot. "No. I don't think I would have."
Mia blinked a tear away again. "Do you think we would have ever met?"
Carl turned his head slightly. He couldn't see her but he could tell she was crying. Her voice was broken. She was hurting. "I don't know," he whispered. "I like to think that we would have at some point. Do you want the truth?"
"Yes."
Carl's eyes stared at the crack in the windshield. "I don't think I can imagine a life without you in it."
