Love Hate (Carl Grimes)

chapter nineteen // distractions

"We should get out of the house." Carl says, setting the book he was reading down. Although he wasn't really reading it. I could feel him looking at me every few seconds for the past several hours. "It would do you good."

I scoff at his suggestion and tear my eyes away from the dying embers of the fireplace I have been watching. It was basically the only thing Carl would let me do. Normally I would fight him on it, but I couldn't find the energy to do so. Mentally and emotionally, I'm weak. "Oh, really?"

Ever since I woke up Carl wouldn't let me do anything. I told him I was going to take a look at Rick and see if he needed stitches, but he said he already took care of him. Probably because it involved a needle. I had set my gun down on the living room floor and went to find a rag to clean it with, but by the time I got back Carl already had it in his hands. He said that he would take care of it and that I should rest. Probably because he thought I would stick the thing in my mouth and pull the trigger.

"Yeah. Being locked up in the house all day is no fun and besides, we need some new supplies." He walks away from the wall he was leaning against and stands next to me, holding his hand out to help me up.

Ignoring his offer, I push myself up and look at him. We are both still in the same dirty and torn up clothes. He isn't wrong about needing new supplies.

"Well I'm surprised. You haven't let me do anything at all."

He shrugs and looks down at his feet. "I just thought you should rest."

"You mean you were trying to keep me from killing myself." My tone is flat and emotionless; drained. And that's how I feel. I feel like that small bit of energy and hope that has kept me going these past several years has been sucked out of me. I'm not sure what I had hope for though.

"Stop talking about it like it's not a big deal." He looks up at me again, sounding sad.

"It's not."

"It is!" His voice isn't loud, but the intensity of it surprises me. The large sherriff hat placed atop his head blocks his face from my view as he looks down, taking a few deep breathes. Every time we even skim the surface of the subject he acts like it affects him. I still don't see why it should. All I am is a burdon; another thing he has to worry about. Carl has his father to take care of who is severely wounded and possibly dead and yet he is constantly worrying about me commiting suicide.

He lifts his head up, revealing his striking blue eyes. They no longer hold any of the saddness that his voice portrayed moments ago. Instead they are filled with almost happiness and a glint of excitment. "I have an idea. Lets explore the whole block. We can hang out all day and being out, just having fun; it will make you feel better."

"Fun?" I question. Because spending an entire day with this boy is going to make me feel so much better.

"Yeah," His pink, chapped lips pull up into a slight smirk, obviously excited for the days plans. "The houses on this street can't all be empty. There's got to be something to do in at least one of them."

All I really feel like doing is staying in the house wrapped up in a blanket, doing nothing all day. But then again, I don't want to spend a whole day studying how flames of a fire carress and burn wood while feeling Carl watch me with a hawk's eye.

I look over at Rick who is laying sprawled out on the couch pushed up against the door. He is lying motionless and even from this short distance I can't make out whether he is breathing or not. "What about Rick? We can't just leave him here."

"We'll secure the house. Lock all the windows and doors so no walkers can get in."

"But-"

"We can even leave a note for him in case he wakes up" He shrugs like leaving his father- who may or may not be on the verge of death- locked up in a house in the middle of winter is no big deal.