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─── ❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 carl ❞ ───
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I WAS HARDENED BY THE WORLD. My childhood, tossed aside before I even fully understood what growing up was. Though, I was never as tough as I portrayed myself to be. I fell into fragmental pieces when I was alone. I was scared of loosing the ones I cared about the most. I even fell victim to the fear of the dark, sometimes.
It was mainly because of the night terrors, striking this nerve of mine. Nightmares about them. The creatures outside. Nightmares about that boy in the woods, putting his gun down. Sometimes, even ones about my mom. The smell of her cheap clearance perfume, and the bulky necklace she often wore. A heart locket. Inside, a picture of me when I was only five. Across, was a photo of my Dad. When she died, a part of me went with her.
What kind of person was I? I could kill in the blink of an eye, yet, a few things made me completely and utterly soft. The girl across the hall, for example. Weak; she made me. Funny, how she was nothing of those traits.
In fact, she was the complete opposite. Cynthia was made of unbreakable stone. I'd never once seen the rocks wedged between her heart crumble.
I could still recall the day we read comics together. She had fallen asleep with one still open in her lap, her perfectly structured fingers paused along a bubble of text. She looked peaceful in rest. It was the only time when she didn't look upset with me, so, I watched for a little longer than I should have. It was then when I realized, people deserved redemption. I had just involuntary given her one, in that moment.
Michonne came in the room during this. She asked me if I wanted to go on a run, and seeming that staring at the girl did me no good, I agreed. A horrible mistake that was. Only a few hours later, she was alongside my Dad. Pale skin, glistening sweat. A laceration against her side, slowly burning the life out of her. Her eyelids kept fluttering, but she never let them come to a complete close. She was strong, without even realizing it.
