Crestfallen ↬ Carl Grimes (old version)

R I G G E D

CHAPTER TWO: RIGGED

❝You know my name, not my story. You've heard what I've done, not what I've been through.❞

❝ During this dreadful time, I've grown accustomed to the dead, but as for people, not so much. ❞

➳

I'VE NEVER APPRECIATED DEATH FOR WHAT IT IS. The darkness that spreads over our light. The word for the eternal sleep that may lead to the best dream that you've ever had, known as heaven. Or, if you're really unlucky, it leads to the worst nightmare you could imagine with your demons coming out to play. Hell.

Death doesn't scare me, it shouldn't scare anyone. Especially not now, in this day and age. For some, it may seem strange how easy I can think about not fearing death when there's a gun pointed at my head held by a hand that isn't mine. But truthfully, it's not strange at all. I'm not one bit fazed by regular fears that make most people human. Not at all. To me, fear is merely a nuisance to my never ending battle at surviving. Or, to be more specific, surviving without any other human around me. During this dreadful time, I've grown accustomed to the dead. As for people, well, not so much.

Now this person, it seemed, had no motivation to kill me. By the way the barrel of the gun was rattling against my skull uncomfortably, and how the creak of the floorboards echoed throughout the room as he switched his weight from foot to foot, it was clear signs of nervousness and/or reluctance with the gun in his hand and a living being positioned at the end of it. Whoever this person is, I have nothing to fear from them. They were inexperienced. Unaffected by the plague of wanting and needing to kill for simple entertainment. It almost made me want to laugh.

"H-Hands by your head," the voice was young, male by the sound of it, the floorboards continuing their constant noise as he approaches my stiff figure. It's been ages, it seems, since the last time I had seen an actual person. At least, a long time since I've seen a living thing that wasn't actually trying to eat me alive. I was confused and torn on what to do and how to act.

Listen to him, the voice inside of me begged, you haven't seen a survivor in ages. Do as he says.

"I said hands by your head!" He shouted, the barrel of his gun nudging my head.

Don't do it, idiot, another argued. I could practically envision the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other as they bickered, Kill him now. It doesn't matter anyway. He's going to die soon enough either way and where will that leave you?

I wanted to tune the last voice out; it was speaking the truth. The rotten, undeniable, deadly truth. This boy, whoever he was, will die soon. Just like everybody else.

And yet, I still did it. I ignored the truth and everything inside of me that was telling me to either kill this living being or just run away. I took one large gulp of stale, dusted air, and rose my shaking, bruised hands.

"That's better," another nudge to the head, "Now stand up and turn around slowly."

Continuing with my slow movements, I pushed myself out of the kitchen chair. Every fiber in my body was screaming out in protest as I turned around, dreading the opening of my eyes. I knew that the stranger wouldn't kill me, because he would have done it already. And that was what scared me. This stranger had something up his sleeve and it would all start as soon as I opened my eyes. So of course, in less than a second, that's what I did.

The first thing I noticed about the boy in front of me was his eyes, which were an astonishing shade of crystallized blue contrasting my dull brown ones. His posture was rigid and tight, coiled like a spring as he held the gun up to my head. I tried not to stare at the blood splattered on his blue and white flannel, so instead, I focused on the brown sheriff hat perched atop his shaggy brown hair. Everything about this boy screamed unaffected. The way he held himself, the way his eyes were too bright, how his gun was shaking due to a simple stranger, he was unaffected by this new world. Sure, he might've lost someone close to him. But that doesn't mean he understands the truth of surviving.

"Howdy sheriff," my voice was rough and worn out, affected by the months, maybe even years, of neglect from me. It sounded unfamiliar to my own ears, as did my thoughts and methods, but those two were a whole different story. My speech was clipped and cut, holding back things even I didn't understand. I hadn't realized that it was this simple to talk, much less look a stranger in the eye after so long of being confined to only myself and my dangerous thoughts.

An undecipherable emotion flashed across the stranger's face, making his eyes vibrant and sharp as he looked me up and down; what he was looking for was unknown and questionable, everything about me was malnourished and harmless.

"Where's the rest of your group?" He questioned, his eyes traveling back to my face, peeking over the top of the gun.

I look up at him through my lashes, tilting my head a bit as I do so. Meeting this boy, I was going to give him the quiet and innocent act. I wanted him to believe that I was nothing more than a defenseless, innocent girl that would be useless to even try and help. But truthfully, all I wanted was for him to leave as soon as possible. So I keep quiet, my gaze not wavering from his strong one.

Obviously, I've annoyed him since he doesn't hesitate to take what was supposed to be a threatening step, the gun only inches from my nose as he speaks, "Answer the question or else I'll have no choice but to shoot you."

His words sink in a bit, making me stiffen up in the slightest. I may not be scared, but I am wary. For all I know, he could just be acting like I have ever since this whole thing started. Only pretending to be innocent until the last moment. If I annoy him even more, it might make his true self show. And there is no way I am going to risk that.

Sending a puff of air out of my nose, I train my eyes to the ground. I have no other choice but to lower my act, even if it's only in the slightest. I wasn't stupid. I needed to show that I knew when an act goes from humorous and innocent to dangerous and deadly.

"I don't have a group. You're the first person I've seen in over a month," my words come out thick through my teeth, my jaw tight as I stand, waiting.

He shakes his head. "Impossible."

His words bring a non-humorous chuckle through my lips, choosing my words carefully so I can show how incredulous this actually was. "Well I can't prove it to you, so you might as well shoot me, sheriff."

I look up at him, glaring. This guy must be messed up if he thinks that I'm lying. Can't he tell by my roughed up nature and worn out voice that I haven't seen a single being in Lord knows how long? His position is stiff under my gaze, no ounce of nervousness left in his body as he looks down at me. His eyes scan every inch of my face, piercing blue eyes meeting dark brown ones as they meet. The silence between us is meant to be deadly, but the words that come from his lips are nothing close to what I was predicting.

"I have three questions to ask you...."

➳

Oh lord, another chapter in less than a week. Who would've thought? I'm continuously telling myself that I'm not going to have a reading schedule but I doubt I'll be able to handle not being organized and neat with my small table of writing.

So what'd you think of this chapter? Boring? Confusing? Awkward? Slow? All of the above?

I'd really be thankful for some criticism for when I have to come back and edit a bit again so it won't be as trashy as it is currently.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

If you did,  make sure to avoid being a silent reader! Comment, vote, and follow for more awkward writing!

Sincerely,

Your Awkward Author,

Andrea ♥️

{EDITED}

{POSTED JANUARY 4TH 2017}

{WORD COUNT; 1496}