Survive ( twd carlgrimes)

Chapter 16

My back faces everybody else. The silence is practically deafening and I know if I turn around there will be a flood of questions that I don't want to answer right now. This room, this house, it just feels weird to be back. I always imagined being back here, surrounded by my whole family eating dinner at the table or watching tv together or sleeping in my own bed but now that I'm here it just feels wrong.

I don't want to see this house. I would say my home, but it's not. This can't be my home anymore. It was the old Madison's home. An innocent little girl with what she thought was the perfect family and a perfect life. It's clear to me now that it was all a lie. This house holds so many memories and I can't bring myself to believe we could make anymore, not happy ones anyways.

My gaze lands on the numerous family pictures on the back wall and my heartstrings pull at the sight of our once whole family. I'm pleased with myself when I notice my dad is exactly how I remembered him. I clung to his memory as much as I could, trying to remember his face, his voice, his smell... I was terrified of forgetting him.

When he died, I missed hunting with him. Once he was gone I had to do it myself, so I could find food for our family. Dad was the person who made the money in our house. My mother looked after us, got us to school, cooked dinner and cleaned the house. Too traditional for me, too repetitive.

The thoughts of how she once lived her life makes me queasy. I never could have done it. It probably explains why she did such a bad job of it, but that doesn't mean I wasn't grateful for all she done for us.

After he died, it was hard to get money for food, clothes, school. My mother was a mess, barely any help at all. She was like a robot, which never made any sense to me. She was the one who sent dad away. Maybe it was guilt. We managed to get by with the help of our neighbor. She was kind and as helpful as she could be, but she had her own family to support.

When dad was around our mother never used to let us leave the house without having full bellies and clothes on our backs, and I love her for being strong back then, but it's hard to see how much the past few years have changed her.

Someones hand comes down on my shoulder, making me jump.
"Mads, are you okay?" Nick asks. 
"I'm fine, it's just a lot to take in, thats all."
"Yeah, I know." He sighs.

I finally turn to the group.
"Uh, the house is run by solar power and we have a well. So there should be clean water and hot showers. I'm not sure if the electricity will work, but we can give it a shot." I tell them
Their faces glow with hope and smiles brighten the room. Everyones obviously pleased with the news. Some people even yelp with excitement.

I left everyone in the kitchen and escape to the hall. Just when I think i've gone unnoticed a voice calls my name.
"Madison? There you are. Where are the showers, i'm dying to have one?" Michonne asks from behind me.
I turn around to answer her her
"Follow me, it's upstairs"

I can tell she's excited because she hasn't stopped smiling since we came into the house. My mood turns even more sour than I thought possible. I hate it here. I hate the shitty memories and I hate the constant reminder of loss. I want to grab what I need and go but something tells me that we're staying for the night.

I walk upstairs with Michonne close behind me. I walk into the bathroom and head straight to the shower. I twisted a knob and the water squirts down, just missing me. I put my hand under the water, testing the temperature. At first it's ice cold and I worry because everyone was looking forward to a hot shower, but then it turns hot. The hot water feels nice against my skin and it kills me to tear my hand away when all I want is to tear off my clothes and hop inside, letting the hot water calm me.

"I'll get you some towels." I clear my throat and run down the stairs to the broomcloset, collect some towels and run back up to the bathroom.
"Here, there might be some spare toothbrushes under the sink, I'm not sure though. Save me one." I tell her while handing her the towels.

She shocks me by placing a firm but comforting hand on my shoulder.
"You've been such good help. Thank you." She tells me
I nod at her and leave the room, shutting the door behind me to give her some privacy.

I wonder along the upstairs hall, looking at all the doors to each room as I pass. At the end of the hall is a door that is painted a cream colour with small pink flowers and a sign with curly writing saying 'Madison'.
I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly open the door.

I walk into the room and the walls are still painted light green. Pink curtains hang limply from my small window. They look horrendous. I loved green and still do. It reminds me of hunting in the woods.

My small bed is sitting in the middle of the room, still messy from the last morning I was in here. There's a small night table on one side of the bed. On top I had left a few dolls and in my closet opposite the bed are all my old clothes. I look at my shelves along the wall. They hold some of my dolls, comics, journals with my young scribbily writing and my favorite knife. My father gave that to me for training out in the woods, despite my mothers fit to keep me away from 'all this nonsense.'

"Is this your room." A voice scares me from behind. I turn to see who it is.
Carl.
"Christ Carl! Don't do that." I yell.
What is with me today? I'm so jumpy.
"Was." I finally correct him him but nod my head.
If this is no longer my home, this is no longer my room. It can't be, there are too many memories and the good ones don't make up for the amount of bad ones i've had.

I see him taking in the room and he laughs.
"Nice." He says and I laugh along with him. This is nothing near 'nice'.
"Yeah, well .... I .... You know what, I don't even have an excuse for this, the room looks awful." I laugh.

"I thought you were into hunting and knives. I come up here and i'm rewarded with dolls and journals." He laughs teasing.
"Oh I still have a knife" I say, still messing with him. I reach up and grab it off the shelf to show him but he's still looking around the girlish room.

"Not what you were expecting, huh? What did you expect? Black walls, skulls and hand grenades?"
He chuckles. "No, not the skulls."
I roll my eyes but a chuckles bubbles at my lips.

"Where did you get this? " He asks, finally admiring my knife.
"My dad."
"What?" He raises his eyebrows, astonished.
"My mom wouldn't have let dad give me a knife. It took long enough for her to finally let me have a gun." He tells me. He turns the knife back and forth in his hands, admiring it.
I remember his words again.

"Wouldn't have."
As in past tense.
I knew his mother wasn't here, but I had just never got the time to think about what happened.
"Carl?"
"Yeah?"
I stop, not sure if I should ask him or not, but then I think what have I got to lose.

"How did your mom die?" I ask him
He goes quiet for a minute.
"I killed her." He replies
WHAT?
Did I hear that right?
It takes me a minute to realise that my jaw is practically on the floor. I gather my expression together.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, um... I just....it's just that...." I stutter
"You weren't expecting that" he finishes my sentence for me.
"Yeah." I admit.
"She was dying giving birth to Judith. We aren't doctors, you know? So she sacrificed herself for Judith. She was unconscious on the ground and she was already dying, but we had to leave, Maggie was there, but I couldn't just leave her. She would've turned. Maggie couldn't do it. So .... I did. I had to, I had to be the one." He tells me.
I feel a lump in the back of my throat.

"You're strong. If that was me and my mother, well, I wish I could do the same. I don't think that I could."
"It's different when you're in that situation. You don't really think. You just do what has to be done."
It's silent for a minute and Carl hands me back my knife. I stuff it in my waistband carefully and then sit on my old bed.

"Do you still have nightmares about it?" I ask, knowing I still struggle with my own.
"Yeah, sometimes. Most nights...... Nearly everynight."
"Me too." I tell him.
"Why would you get nightmares about killing people?" He asks suspiciously.
"Because Carl, I have killed someone."