[Note: This chapter begins where the prologue left off. Some time has passed since chapter 24.]
And now, I'm here. I'm in this dingy room with walkers groaning from outside the locked metal door. And I'm crying as I think about all the things life has thrown at me. All the time I've spent not just surviving, but living.
Maggie named her daughter Emily. A beautiful name for a beautiful, red-headed angel. She's two years old now and her favorite word is "flower." Maggie and Glenn couldn't be happier. Judith was pretty excited when Emily turned out to be a girl. She'd finally have a playmate closer to her age. After all, Emily was only three years younger. I couldn't wait to see how undoubtedly close they would be as teenagers. I couldn't wait to see them as teenagers in general. They are a new generation. One that will have grown up in this post-apocalyptic world.
Now, it looks like maybe I won't see them grow up.
Daryl and Carol are still secretive. So secretive. No one really knows what exactly they are in relationship terms. But we all know that they are happy. That is enough for us.
Hershel smiled when Beth and Trinity told him that they were a couple. I asked him about it later, and he said he'd never seen Beth talk about someone like she talked about Trinity. He was happy if she was happy. Now, he's older than most would believe. He's gotten really good at moving around with his prosthetic leg.
All of our people have somehow remained alive. The last death in our group was Rick. I still don't really understand how Carl and I got through that. There were a lot of nights when I held him as we cried. There were a lot of nights when we went outside during thunderstorms just to scream at whatever God would allow such awful things to happen. There were a lot of nights when Carl was okay. The nightmares grew less and less frequent. Losing a parent is a strange thing.
How did I make it? How did I live? How did I find happiness in a world where happiness is fictional? We live off the land now. We only go on supply runs for things we can't grow or make ourselves.
We live off the land, but really, we live off each other. Our family is large and mostly adoptive, but it is more than anyone could dream of in a pre-walker world. Everyone knows one another down to the core and we all love each other anyway, despite the endless flaws present in each of us.
I sometimes wonder why the old world wasn't like this. Clearly, people can learn to love anyone with time, no matter how different. We're in this awful situation. We have to fight to survive every single day. Yet all any of us have is love. The old world was nothing but hate. Sometimes I think that maybe, in some twisted way, the walkers are a gift to the human race. They're the worst thing that could've happened to the world besides letting it continue on the path it was taking.
Then again, sometimes I think I've gone completely crazy.
That idea doesn't seem so wrong when I hear four raps on the metal door.
I listen.
The noises of the walkers are gone. The room is eerily quiet. I've been in here for over two days with only one water bottle and half a granola bar.
Four more knocks on the door.
I realize I should answer. I don't want anyone to move on from the building without me. I would answer if my throat wasn't so dry. If any noise came out when I spoke.
I stand too quickly and my head spins. I run forward anyway.
I knock four times on the door.
There is movement on the other side. I worry that maybe this killer of walkers is more dangerous than the walkers themselves.
I brace myself and unlock the door before moving out of view of the person on the other side. The heavy door slides open with the screech of metal on metal and I see a strong, beautiful silhouette. A strong, beautiful silhouette wearing a goddamn sheriff's hat.
"Carl!" I cry and run to him, tears already falling down my face. He is warm and he is wonderful and he is everything I've ever wanted and now I am in his arms again.
He grunts and falls to the floor, holding me and laughing. I can see his face now. I can see new tears streaking the dirt covering his face. I can see those perfect grayish eyes of his. I can see the person who hasn't left my dreams for the past three years.
He buries his face in my hair as I settle into his lap and just hold onto him for a long, long time.
"I love you," he tells me and I nod. We don't feel the need to answer back anymore. We don't say it to hear the other person say it back. We say it because we want to remind each other.
We break apart and stand, even though I just want to hold him forever.
"There's a little cabin just outside of this town. If we can get there, we'll be safe. We can leave for the prison tomorrow," he tells me, taking my hand and squeezing.
"Okay," I say, my voice cracking. He hands me a bottle of water, looking a bit concerned. I smile at him as I wipe my eyes on my sleeve.
"I'm so sorry we got separated. That shouldn't have happened," he says quietly as I gulp down half the bottle. I shake my head.
"Don't worry, Carl. It wasn't your fault. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm with you again. I thought I wouldn't get to say goodbye," I tell him. I squeeze his hand. The possibility of death hadn't mattered. The possibility of leaving Carl behind was what threatened to break me.
"I know what you mean," he says with a sad smile.
We manage to escape the town smoothly. Carl had apparently used a boom box to draw walkers away from the building I was trapped in. He knew I was in there thanks to the swarming around the building. By avoiding the place the boom box is in, we can avoid the walkers altogether.
We walk quietly, hand in hand, to the cabin he'd found the day before. It's small, with only a main room (containing a kitchen and a couch) and a bedroom. The floors and walls are wooden and their age shows. The floor creaks and dust kicks up as I walk across it. It still feels peaceful somehow. Even as the wind picks up and the sky becomes inky with night.
Carl boards up the door. I check to make sure no one entered the cabin in the time that he was gone. He feeds me a bit of chicken and a small container of rice, then watches with loving eyes as I drink a bottle of water. He offers me more food, but after at least two days of eating practically nothing, I'm not sure how much more I can handle.
Carl takes my hand gently and leads me to the couch, where I curl up into him. There's no such thing as too little space between us.
"I was so worried," he says, pulling me even closer to him. I take his hand delicately and look down at it, resting my head on his chest. It is rough and there is dirt permanently etched into the nail beds. These hands have killed, but they are so gentle when they're cupping my face or are wrapped around me tightly.
"I thought I might not see you again," he says. I nod. I am so tired. Who knew that sitting in a dark room for days could be exhausting?
I wake up to morning light shining on us from a skylight I didn't notice the night before. I don't remember falling asleep. I look up to Carl's face and he smiles softly at me.
"Did you sleep?" I ask, confused. He shakes his head and smooths my hair out. I guess he sees the worry in my eyes, because he pulls me to him and kisses me softly.
He pulls away after a minute.
"There's something I need to tell you," he says. My heart immediately starts thumping.
"What, are you pregnant?" I joke, laughing nervously. He smiles back. I can only describe the look in his eyes as bittersweet at that moment. They are so loving and hopeful but they are so sad. I swear, looking into his eyes for too long would make me cry like a baby.
"I might just show you rather than tell you," he says. He holds me tightly against his chest as he stands, then releases me and takes a step back.
He tugs off his shirt. And there it is. A Bandage on his shoulder.
"What happened?" I ask, gingerly touching his arm under the bandage.
He unwraps the blood-stained cloth as I watch.
"No," I say, my voice cracking.
"No, no, no, no, no," comes erupting from my mouth. I hit the floor at the same time as my tears. Then, he is there. He is holding me and telling me it's okay. The world just got so much colder. So much darker. He is holding me in his lap, against his chest as sobs wrack my body. The bite marks in his shoulder will forever be imprinted on my mind.
When I finally stop crying, I am left shaking. He holds me tighter than ever before, and I don't know which tears are his and which are mine.
"It happened yesterday," he says, pressing his forehead into mine, "I figure I have around a day left. I feel the fever setting in."
I nod. I have so little time left with him. So little time to tell him all of the things I need to. I'd give him anything in the world, but I can't give him a cure.
"There are so many things we didn't get to do," I whisper. We never saw the Grand Canyon. We never reread The Great Gatsby. We never got to have kids. We will never play another stupid game of checkers or sit in the watch tower or go to our special cave together.
"Nikki, there are so many things we did do. Sharing my life with you made everything worth it. I am so grateful for your existence. I don't want to leave you. I never want to leave you." I don't want him to leave. This isn't fair. This is not fucking fair.
"I can't do this, Carl. I can't live without you. How am I supposed to have half of me ripped away and keep surviving?" I'm not thinking. I'm just talking. Pain this intense has a way of doing that.
"I know. I know, Nikki. I'm so sorry. I love you," he says, tears falling fast now.
Then, I am kissing him. I am kissing him slowly. Our faces are sticky with tears as they mesh and I am touching him everywhere, trying to memorize exactly what this feels like. I never want to forget this. I never want to forget anything about him.
He steadies me with one hand in my hair and the other on my lower back as I drape myself over him. I lose myself in him.We're one body and a million nerve endings. He touches my hands and it feels like fire. A good kind of fire. The kind of fire that will kill you before you realize it's bad for you.
Eventually, I pull away from him. Sweat droplets slip down his face despite the room temperature being fairly cool. He's going too fast. I don't have long with him. For now, it doesn't hurt very much. It's more of a sense of urgency.
"Carl, I love you. You've always been there. You've always been this part of me, helping me to find my own strength. I can't believe I got to spend so much of my life with you. You're this beautiful thing in an ugly world, and I like to think you made me more beautiful. I can't imagine life without you because you'll always be a part of me. There is no life without you," I can't stop myself.
" This is still too soon. I hate that you're going. But I just want you to know that you are incredible." Words are pouring out of me, and by the end, tears are,too.
"Nikki," he breathes, then pulls me to his chest. He holds me there and squeezes me tightly as I sob.
"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," he says, then pauses. I hold my breath.
"I want you to do it," he whispers. I lift my face from his warm chest to look him in the eyes.
I stare into them. I see pain. Pain and regret, but no fear. He isn't afraid to die. He wants it to be quick. There is almost a look of determination in his face.
"I don't want you to watch me suffer. That is the last thing I want. I want to say our goodbyes, and then I want to go," he holds a hand on either side of my face as he searches my eyes.
I don't want him to go. But he's going to. It should be in his way.
"Okay," I murmur, "when?"
"Soon," he says, then smiles, "it hurts like hell."
I smile back at him, because when he smiles I can't help but do the same.
I keep smiling even as the tears keep falling. I press my lips against his, softer than I ever have before. I'm reminded of our first kiss, back when I denied that I had feelings for Carl even to myself. That kiss was short and terrifying and tasted of eggs. This is the opposite.This is slow and calm and I feel like I'm home.
We hold each other for a long time before he says, "I think it's time." He is sweating more than I've ever seen and it seems hard for him to keep his eyes open.
He watches as I quickly gather all of our supplies. I don't think I'll want to stay here after this.
I help him to sit up against a wall, then place his hat on his head. I sit down beside him.
He turns to me and pushes sticky, wet hair away from my face.
"You know what you said to me when my dad died?" Carl asks, staring deep into my eyes. Taking them in for the last time.
I shake my head. That time is all a blur in my memory.
"What you said is 'I'm not going to tell you that's it's going to be okay. I'm not gonna lie and say that. But Carl Anthony Grimes, you can keep on living.' I need you to know that, Nikki. You can keep living. You can find happiness after me. I believe in you. You are nothing but good. I don't want to change that. Promise me you'll try?" he is quiet but his words are so loud in my ears.
"Okay," I say, feeling my face twist up in pain, "Okay. I promise. I don't know how. But I will try."
"That's the only thing I want from you. I want you to have a good life. I love you," he says, his breaths harsh and heavy.
"I love you," I choke out.
He pulls his pistol from his jeans with great effort and hands it to me. Then, he removes his hat and places it on my head. I smile even as a sob escapes me. He slides his hand down from the hat to my shoulder, then down my arm. He holds my hand gently, then gives it a squeeze and lets go. He smiles at me and nods.
I stand and walk across the room. The skylight lets in yellow evening sun and illuminates dust particles as they float through the air. I step into this light. I stand and look at him. My beautiful angel, sitting against an old, rotting wall in the dark.
He smiles at me before he shuts his eyes. I smile back as I raise my arm. And I take the shot.
~Author's Note~
Hello.
I couldn't leave this story without an ending. I've been planning this ending for a long time. It's been thought about a lot.
I'm almost glad that I left it for so long, because I think I needed to grow before I wrote this, as cliche as it sounds. I hope you love it, even though I know you'll hate it, too.
I'm lowkey crying so hard right now.
I'm so sorry this took so long to finish.
This is the end of this story.
Thank you so much for reading, giraffes <3. Your support means the world to me.