The next thing I heard was a clank as my gun hit the floor, Spes' eyes just out of it and she was slowly lowering herself to sit down, legs bent under her while I was still struggling to get this long legged, scrawny as$hole off of me.
I thought it would've been hard to, but my arms surprised me and it was easy to slug him to the side, blood once again catching my eyes as it leaked out of his brain like paint, spreading nonstop and without subtlety.
That's it...Another Day, Another Death...
"Agh." My throat feels like it's just been fed acid. Damm. I actually thought Spes was gonna let me die. Spes who's never killed more than 10 walkers. Spes who hasn't...been out in the world for more than a whole week; according to what she's told us. Sh1t.
"Spes?" I strain out and turn around to see her just looking at the body, a little disbelief in her face like she can't believe she just killed somebody.
There's already a raw smell of copper and intoxication of blood lifting into the air, it's practically coating our throats that it makes me cough a couple more times, the way it sets in the back of my nose where my throat connects, and I know I've tasted this flavor a thousand times, eating the death that's been lifted into the air.
It took me so long to get used to it.
When I killed someone, I didn't have to smell the fvcking blood that was on my hands. But...Spes...she-
"Spes, can you hear me?" I wouldn't doubt if she needed to be checked into a loony bin about now. But of course we don't have that option. "Spes?" I pull my gun away and try to block her view, but she's staring right into the eyes of the guy bleeding out.
Why is she doing that?!
"Spes?!" I start to hold her shoulders, barely touching the soft fabric that's beginning to wear down, when she gasps back into life, as if she was on hold for a moment, and her brain just processed what the heIl happened.
The only thing I hear for the next 6 seconds is the terrified high pitch of Spes' vocal chords that sounds like she's just seen a monster or got her hands broken. Almost like she's crying.
"Spes?!" I'm literally freaked out by how much she's screaming, sh1t! Her hands are partially hiding her face, but her eyes are perfectly open and running over with tears, no sign of slowing. "Spes! Please!" I begin to gently pull her towards me. If she doesn't calm down there'll be walkers for miles. "Spes!!" I find my voice again, not the struggled voice but the whole voice, deep and still changing. It's not enough though.
She's pushed me away and slid herself towards the corner of the kitchen counters, pulling her hair back while she drags her legs as close as she can to her body, face red with how hard she's crying and how much she's still fvcking screaming.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" My voice sounds petrified. It's almost as unstable and panicky as hers but she's really starting to scare me. No wonder! Following her gaze from the body back to her, the view isn't all that kind.
Immediately after her screaming is replaced with hyper cries and uncontrollable lack of oxygen. Her voice is giving out too and it sounds really painful.
It's like he's still alive, or he's possessed the way he has her crying in a corner, making sure she doesn't take up more than a small circle of space, like if she extends her legs too much, the blood will touch her or...it's like she's losing her mind.
"Sp-" My throat goes tight when I try to say her name. I don't even know why, but there's something that rips inside of me, tearing in two almost at the sight of her like...like this. I've never seen anyone act like this in the last 5 years. Is it really so strange to me?
"Spes?" I breathe out, almost broken at the thought that she had to kill someone to save me. I mean that's pretty much what just happened. "Don't look." My conscience starts to eat away at me like rot when I turn from her and pull off my plaid shirt, leaving me only in my gray short sleeved Tee, so I can hide the face of the guy who just tried to kill me so she won't see.
The reaction I get is her dragging her fingers further through her gray hair, cupping the sides of her neck, still crying but not as bad as before. It's been replaced with her entire body shaking like she's been in a freezer for 3 days.
What do I do now? I need to get dad but, I can't leave her. Not like this. Well, with the way she was just screaming I don't think I'll-
"Carl!!" I snap my head towards the door and after 3 seconds watch it swing open, the entire group following outside by view through the windows.
"Over here!" I see him, gun already pulled out with Daryl making sure the house is secure, but they all, well, Michonne, Daryl, Dad and Abraham, became aware of the situation once they see someone dead and staining my shirt that I'm probably never going to wear again.
"What happened?" Dad comes closer and for some unknown reason to me, I suddenly feel this need to stand and cut him off so he won't get too close to Spes. It's crazy and not the time to let myself get too caught up in how I'm getting stronger, but I want to be only one to go near her right now. Just me, not someone else.
I guess it's the same thing like when I wanted to find Sophia and nobody else. A-At least, I'm pretty sure it's the same. It has to be.
"We were clearing." I clear my throat and try to settle down. "There was someone in there. I couldn't get my gun." I watch as Daryl lifts part of my shirt and stares down at the guy that's not gonna be around to turn into a walker.
"So she put a bullet in his brain?" Daryl leans back up and looks to Spes, eyes clamped shut like she has a headache and can't stand the noise between all of us.
Now I'm really starting to feel bad. When I killed someone I was a little surprised and, a little freaked out that I actually pulled the trigger but, I got over it. I may have even felt a little offended that my dad didn't get why I did it. But Spes, she had a way better reason than me and...she's too terrified to see it. She's too untouched to deal with it.
It's at this moment I spot some relief in dad's eyes that I wasn't the one to kill someone again. I have a feeling that even though I'm the one ready to spare people, and even though he's killed people too, more than me, he's still not crazy about the idea that I could kill again.
In this moment I wish I did kill instead of her.
"You get hurt? Either of you?" Dad bends down and takes a look at my neck which is probably red and I put my hand on my throat for a second before clearing it again, Michonne studying how I nod so that she offers me some water in a bottle below halfway full.
"I'll go make sure no one else is upstairs." Glenn shares a look with Abraham before he goes to check, machete in his right hand and his hair sweaty and long like usual, black waves thrown to the side.
It's actually starting to piss me off the way Abraham's staring at Spes. Again, I'm really confused as to why, I was staring at Gabriel the same way not so long ago like he was nuts, and she hasn't exactly come off as sane to us, but...fvck, it's bugging me.
On the bright side...I don't think we should be wondering about her alliance anymore, if we still were that is.
"Is she alright to move?" Tyreese and the others finally drift towards us. "She looks pretty shaken up."
"Carol?" I turn and see dad call for her.
Used to, the tenderest person to actually be in the group was Beth or Hershel, they were always nice, but like usual, Carol was smart about these things too. We all were in a way. I didn't mind letting her past me because I knew she'd be the best person, even above Beth who's now dead, to take a look at the girl losing her mind in the corner of a random and abandoned kitchen.
"Spes?" Carol leans down. "Spes? Can you hear me?"
_______________
-Spes' P.O.V.-
"Ew! Don't touch it!" My old classmates squealed as I gripped my bookbag straps and leaned down so that my small 6 year old knees could settle on the hard road at the turn into my neighborhood division. "Spes get away from it. It looks old."
My catty eyes with long lashes blinked once and I tilted my head, almost losing my balance to try and see the face. A pretty grey blue cat, almost as dark as my hair color, with long fur, lay on its side, mouth open so I could see it's pink gums, eyes slightly squinted but I could still spot it's fogginess.
"My mom said it's not good to touch things that are dead. They're dirty." Another little girl's words are slightly mumbled since she's so young, and I get up to frown at them.
"It's not dead! It's sleeping!" I wipe one of my eyes because of its annoyance to the sun shining down on us. "I'm gonna take it home!"
"You can't."
"Yes I can." My little voice almost lisped at one point, but I quickly turn around, my tiny orange skirt and yellow shirt were soon pressed up against the stiff body. It made me wonder for a second, but after the head fell back, like cats usually do because they're so lazy, I smiled at the good deed I was starting, taking a cat home to give it some food and a bath.
"EW! It stinks! Spes now you stink too!!" My three friends who happily resided in the same area squealed and ran away when I grunted to get up, licking my lower lip in concentration, eyes bright with happiness and a smile on my face exposing my tiny little teeth that all 6 years old have.
Carrying that cat was a handful, but it was worth it if it meant doing something nice to a random feline. I was hugging it all the way down the road towards home, my extremely short hair flying behind me, little shoes tapping hard against the gravel.
I made it home though, perfectly safe, and tiptoed a bit to reach for the golden handle.
"Spes?! I'm sorry I wasn't at the mailbox!" My mom calls with her accent, the tan of her skin, light and Hispanic, her curvy, sassy body that she dressed mostly in long skirts and colorful but appropriate tank tops came around the corner, and I smiled the biggest I could.
"Can we keep it? I want to give it a bath. It stinks. I stink too." I cringed at the smell.
"Spes?! What are you doing?!" She hurried over to me in her bare feet, snatching my friend from my hands and opening the door to toss it to the little path in between grass.
"No!! Don't, it's sleeping!"
"Mija, it's not sleeping! Está muerto! It's dead!" She speaks to me in both Spanish and English.
"No it's not!" I frown to go back outside to get it, but I'm picked up and dragged to the bathroom before I can step out the door.
"Mija, there are germs all over it, now you need to take a bath!"
"No!!" I begin to cry, struggling but I feel my mom pull me to the tub.
"Spes, mi vida, look at this!" She grabs at my small wrists, lifting them up to show me dark sticky stains on my palms and in between my fingers. "That's blood! It was run over! Don't ever pick up stuff like that again!" My young, beautiful mother frowns, her brown eyes with traces of hazel are soft but her black eyebrows are knitted together in anger.
Blood on my hands. That's what it was. I had...
...I have- I HAVE blood on my hands.
________________
"The guys thought you'd want to eat by now." Jesse looks down to the ground, uncertainty one of the last things in his aura with how to deal with me. Surprisingly, nobody seemed to be walking on egg shells or worrying about what to say around the girl who just-
Killed someone.
They just left me be after they knew I was still 'sane' and made camp outside.
"Spes, eat. Please?" He puts the bowl under my nose to show me a dish full of peas that are most likely cold and dated or they're sure to give me a stomach ache. Genuinely though, I don't feel hungry, and I won't eat for anything. It'll just come back up, I know it. Everything else has. "At least some water?"
I don't want water, I don't want peas, I don't want sh1t! I want to get this fvcking image of someone's head being punctured out of my mind! The way his eyes rolled back...
Gosh...
I keep feeling it too. The imaginary hole in the back of my scalp. Blood oozing against my hair, slowly drying and sticking, just like that damm cat's torn open stomach.
"The groups worried about you. I am too. Come on." I feel a hand start to grab mine so they can settle the bowl and spoon for me to consume but I feel a sprout of anger hit me, and I with complete accuracy, slap the bowl out of Jesse's hands with my knuckles to make the contents of nourishment become useless when they land on the dirt and grass.
And of course, Jesse's looking at me with sorrow, while the others, after they heard my little fit; jerk their heads in my direction to watch. That's when I see Carl.
A suddenly sick ache in my stomach churns and I become disgusted with the idea of him hating me, hating me, and I don't even- Why did it have to be him? Why did I have to kill for him? He doesn't even-I don't even like him.
But I was so scared.
Why? Why did that have to happen? My life feels so different now. First, I didn't deserve to live comfortably because of something I couldn't help. I was me though, a person who had hope, who knew that this world was still really beautiful. Oh but now...sh1t.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
_______________
"What have you done?" An echo black as night whispers from behind me as I stare at the corpse, hidden to me by Carl's shirt that I feel my body hurry to remove it. "Spes." My father coos. "The only way you can help, is by coming home."
Coming home.
"You've killed someone. You just keeping adding on Spes. This isn't you. This isn't what you're supposed to do or be." A hand gently squeezes my shoulder from the person I've memorized in my head as the one who corrupted me, but still loved me.
"I want to blame this on you." I hiss and his hand retreats like I've burned him with my feelings. "I want to blame this on Carl." I gladly confess.
"It's something that couldn't be helped Spes. Unless you wanted Carl to die. Either life is expendable. Why did you choose to kill for Carl? He doesn't even like you."
I tear away the shirt covering the face and instead of the man's features, I see Carl's eyes open, a dark circle in his forehead, blood leaked all over his upper face, like a mask, different lines going off to the side, with only his blue iris' blazing even in eternal slumber.
"What?" I begin shaking again, like earlier, and its close, the vomit that sizzles my throat, but I keep it down, terrified of what my dream plans to torture me with next.
"If you didn't kill him, you would be dead."
Me? Actually dead?
"You would be dead Spes-"
"Maybe that's how it should be!" I speak with little care to what my words mean.
They could mean the world never going back to the way it was. No cure, everything just falling down hill or people learning to live like this and thrive back to the top of the food chain as much as they are able. Every baby born would have the tainted blood passed on to them. It would be written in history books and woods would be fenced off to keep children safe from harm.
It'd be a stir in the balance, forever and ever.
Soon, times of being with raw hunger crazed walkers never existing would be a dream of the past.
All future generations, would never know a time where Walkers didn't sully the earth.
Me dying. I'm certain; it could bring something like that upon us.
At first I was willing to look past my guilt, make it take a back seat and focus on the good, the fact that I was here, trying to help, make a turn for the better, everyone safe and free from this heIl...If I could dream of that, not for myself, but for others, then I'd be willing to live with who I was.
But it's for my guilt after all. Because if I truly wished to strive towards a peaceful world for the sake of others, I wouldn't be quitting now. I'd accept that murdering someone was part of the package, and I'd get over this sh1t in an instant and move on.
But I'm not like these people. I'm selfish. I'm not ok with killing someone.
I can't keep it still; this feeling of emptiness that sucks all the humanity out of you...It's been walking with me every step of the way after I left home.
At first I didn't notice it copying my every footstep, waiting to pounce and destroy me at my weakest moment. But I've been seeing it's smile out of the corner of my eyes, reaching for me, and it feel like it's finally grabbed hold of me.
Soon, the light that I love and see will be clouded from above.
I'll become like Carl and everyone else.
Only hoping to see the sun beyond the gray mists, but never spotting a ray. Only keeping our heads bowed to look at the floor, bare of life and happiness.
I don't want that. I want to see the sun. Before my eyes are clouded, before everything changes, maybe giving in to my selfishness, I can stop all of this.
"Maybe I should die."
______________
-Carl's P.O.V.-
How?
How does someone come back from that? From taking a life from a stranger in a brief second, knowing that because of you, entire lifetime lived, and an entire lifetime yet to be filled, was swiped from existence on this earth.
All the days you imagined them laughing or crying, doing good or doing bad, you interfered.
I did. I barely needed any special attention except for dad taking my gun away and making me plant tomatoes all the time, which I got sick of 5 days into it, but I didn't spend hours or weeks thinking about the gravity of...pulling that trigger.
But there's nothing to take Spes' mind off of what happened. There's nothing to help her understand. Barley a week into the apocalypse and she's been mentally unhinged already?
What's killing me is that, I think I could've done something. Stopped it.
Fvck! Why!?
I turn onto my side and huff out some air, barely making out shapes in front of me when everyone else keeps on sleeping.
Why did I drop my gun? Why'd it have to be like that? I didn't want it to be like that! Needing help, especially from someone so new to this? It's like asking Gabriel to shoot someone. It doesn't work that way!
"Dammit." I curse myself in a backhanded way. I'm pissed off at everything right now. The way the night temperature is, the way I'm sleeping, the way everyone's so quiet, the way I can't see Spes right now.
Spes.
With that in mind, I silently grunt and prop myself on my elbows, immediately scanning to see her body, wondering if she's asleep or not, maybe I can talk to her now that she's actually functioning again, not sitting on some log slapping peas everywhere.
Nobody was impressed with that. I kept thinking it was a bad idea to spoil her and pamper her the way Jesse's been doing ever since I've seen them both together, but who knows?
"Ugh." I feel my attention snap back and look forward to see someone struggling to unwrap themselves from their blankets, the quick notice of their long hair marks them as Spes and I have no idea what to do.
I wanted to talk to her but what the heIl do I say? I barely had it easy communicating the first few times I tried, she was so fvcking difficult to handle, but now, I'm actually worried that me telling her I was wrong to be pissed with her, that I'm sorry, she'll just attack me and curse at me or whatever. I don't really want to wake everybody up right now with us rolling around on the ground, especially at night because Daryl's bound to say something sh1tty.
But...the way Spes is going about things; it doesn't look like she's just going to use the bathroom. It looks like...
A quick tug at her backpack, sliding it to secure on her shoulder lets me know, simple as addition, that she's leaving.
As in leaving?
Is she-yes. She's insane.
I'm insane too by the way I'm hurrying to follow after her.
My fingers don't even hesitate to grab at my own bag and secure my gun, grabbing my hat and pushing it to stay on my head, strands of hair finally dry since the weather is so cool, and I'm literally praying that nobody wakes up to find us.
What the heIl am I doing?
-Spes' P.O.V.-
So I'm fvcking suicidal now? My subconscious is telling me that I'm better off dead so when the 'darkness' takes away my humanity, I'll be able to prevent myself from losing the ability to see the worlds beauty, by killing myself?
Why am I even bothering to leave that stupid camp then? Has it not hit me yet? The need to really pull out my sword and jab it one good time up my mouth, past my nostrils and in between my brain which obviously doesn't want to give me a fvcking break?
I have no clue what I'm doing. Last time I ran away, I had a purpose and zero second thoughts. Now, I feel like I've changed. There's something amiss with me. No wonder given that in such a short time, I've done some pretty weird things.
The only question I have for myself is what do I do now? What the-
"Where are you going?"
Sh1t! Oh, please no.
"I said, 'where are you going'?" Carl's voice, that fvcking deep voice I'd know anywhere. Gosh.
"Why are you following me?" I turn and glare at him like I've been doing, only this time it doesn't keep up because of the idea I had, the vision I had of him dead, blood all over his upper face, freaking scary and scarring.
"Where are you going?"
"Why!- Why...are you following me?" I'm already breathing like a maniac, trying to keep cool even though I'm really annoyed with how presumptuous and high and mighty Carl thinks he is.
First he acts like I'm the as$hole, blaming me for sh1t I can't help, then he pushes me around, acts like he's so smart and he can do whatever he wants, everything he does has no fault, none whatsoever, I'm the one who's being a b1tch, and finally, something really fvcked, like him almost dying in front of me happens, the thought of him gone, bothering me for some reason even though I hate him, just... I'm so confused and the last thing I need from this dick is him treating me like I'm supposed to answer to him.
When did he get the authority for anything?
He may be used to life on the outside, I may be a brat, but he's still 15, he's still just a young punk who's only wise about a new lifestyle, not life.
Dammit, I wish I said that out loud.
"I'm following you because you're not supposed to go out on your own. You're part of this group now. It's not safe. You barely know how to defend yourself."
"For your information, I'm done with this group." My words sound like they're soaked with distain and I could give a rats as$. I killed someone today, I think that gives me a pass for the rest of the week to behave like a full on temperamental brat.
"What do you mean?" His voice is low and cautious. Sort of sounds pissed too.
"I mean, Carl Grimes, that this group, can suck it." I literally smile, hate on my face and all that sh1t people normally find shocking while I kick my foot on the ground and give him the middle finger before turning around to leave. That felt good actually.
"Wait!" He gently yells and I hear him running after me. "Where the heIl do you expect to go? D.C.? That's stupid. You're gonna get yourself killed."
"Aha! What a tragedy!" I exclaim and lift my hands way up in the air. "That would be sooo bad wouldn't it? Do you even believe me about the whole 'my dad is a scientist' stuff? I don't think you do. Besides, you've been sh1tty to me all week. Just because I killed someone..." I try to go on but the words said aloud hit me pretty hard that my tongue dies down and I see Carl's eyes slice towards guilt.
"I do believe you." He doesn't waste a second to tell me.
He believes me?
"That's why you hate me?" My face is still turned away, but I lift an eyebrow and move my glassy orbs to look at him, the sight of how beautiful and divine a creature he is stuns me for a second.
He really is like a prince. Dressed like an ordinary peasant, dirty, poor, but, regal. Beautiful.
And why the heIl am I saying this now?
"You're right. I mean I don't hate you, but that, me being that way, it's because of that. I don't know. I wasn't expecting that." It's like he's talking to himself instead of me.
"As$ hole." I mutter without thinking.
"Right. Just because you have the blood to change everything for the better, I'm supposed to kiss your as$? You really are a brat." He spits in aggravation, swiping his bangs to the side like it's going to help him calm down, and for some weird moment I actually smile inside to think he's so easily riled by my unwavering attitude. Gosh it's priceless to be this way if just to annoy the sh1t out of him.
"Then let me get out of your hair." I start to walk away but he's already got my arm. "Carl!" I grit my teeth in blood boiling rage.
"I'm not letting you leave!" I stare as his cheeks heat up with equal anger.
We're seriously going to play tug of war over my body?!
"Let me go!" I pull my entire arm leading up to my shoulder but dammit, just like before, he's too strong to let me move an inch, sh1t!
"No!"
"Why not!?"
"Because!"
We both suddenly stop, my confusion clearly isn't the only one in process right now as the guy in front of me loosens his fingers and just stares at me, not saying anything while the wind shifts our hair about, night stars twinkling and the group several yards away all in the same time I'm trying to figure out what Carl means by 'because'.
"Because?" A little heartbeat of hope pulses inside of me, for what I'm not sure, but it has something to do with his next words, hoping he'll tell me why, in a direction I hope he's thinking.
Am I so modern and out of this dangerous world, even after shooting someone dead that my heart is racing because of a guy holding me?
Anticipation.
I want him to say something, not because of what happened today, nothing to make me feel better or worthy of myself. Nothing like that.
This is different.
Oh gosh. What the heIl?
What do I want him to say?
"Because..." His voice shakes and I'm almost sure he didn't mean for that to happen. "Be-" He cuts short and looks into my eyes, suffocating me with how untamed he is, how he's not used to being a dull boring guy, he's just full of raw emotions and... maybe like he's about to ask permission for something, and I'm eager for him to spit out what he's thinking.
Spit it out...say it. Please.
Carl...tell me what you're-
"I'm coming with you."
...What?
________________
OHOHOOO...So. Sparl is leaving the group? No distractions? Just bonding for the future? I see. Nice.
Ok. Guys? Guess what. -_- I was at wal mart not so long ago, and I was in the movie section, when my sister saw this person, and she's like, "Cheyenne, look." Turned me towards a direction, and my jaw immediately dropped. I was frowning too.
There was this dude, short piece of crap, that was like, gah, he was dressing like Carl. He looked like Carl at the second half of season 4. His hair was the same, his skin color, his hat was a little different and his hoody, navy blue, had print on the back but........ Oh my gosh. I was so pissed!
Like, I had the words, 'WHO THE FVCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Written on my friggin' forehead. This guy was ugly, and he was acting all....GAH..I don't know. It just pissed me the frick off! He's not good enough to even..I just...oh my gosh. He was ugly too. Freaking ugly. (i already said that but LJAOEIRJ J O_O) I...I just...Oh my gosh. It was insulting to our Carl. Apparently i was scary cuz my sister kept pulling me away from his presense. Everytime I saw him I felt like throwing the can of santa snow at him.
See that? That is an unhealthy but dedicated fan. XD