He knew he was okay here; that the whole ordeal was over and done with. Carl was back in the abandoned blue truck that Rick, Michonne and he found on the side of the road. However, this time Michonne was with him, watching over him. Her presence was keeping his wavering sanity in place. Her slim fingers combed through his hair. Carl also knew that outside of the car, his father and Daryl were keeping watch. He had heard them both pacing and moving around. It was morning now. He knew that, could see that through the open spaces of the windows that weren't covered in clothing. Daryl had placed the clothes across the windows to keep the light away in hopes that a darker resting place would help Carl sleep. The younger Grimes appreciated that, but having a comfortable place to sleep doesn't mean Carl would be getting any rest any time soon.
Daryl and his father had moved the dead bodies away from their campsite after Carl had calmed down. Carl's mind wasn't too positive on what exactly happened right after, but he remembered bits and pieces. Fear. Pain. It had hurt. His father was drenched in blood and Michonne held him tightly as he watched Rick viciously stab his attacker to death. His innocence was taken away, and Carl felt sickened at the deep pleasure he felt as his father brutally murdered his attacker. He watched in silent approval as Michonne held him. He was startled as the dark thoughts filtered through his mind. The thought that he wanted to be the one to kill. He didn't want to think anymore.
Morning came too quick, but Carl supposes that it was already morning when he and Michonne climbed into the car, when he laid there numb and then fell asleep. Perhaps it wasn't even morning anymore, but rather a good point in the day to start moving. Michonne had brushed his hair away from his eyes and whispered softly.
"Carl, it's time to go." He didn't want to get up. He was awake, yeah, but physically moving was a thing he would never be ready for. Even lying on Michonne's lap, he felt the deep ache inside himself. The pain flared when he shifted even the smallest margin. His jeans stuck to his thighs, glued to them with blood and other bodily fluids. For a moment, he felt terrible. How dare he lie on Michonne's lap, covered in filth? He was dirty. His heart began to hammer again in his chest.
He was dirty.
Sucking in a deep breath, Carl slowly maneuvered his way off of Michonne's lap and out of the car. Small grunts of pain escaped from his throat, but he refused to acknowledge it. A hand caught his arm as Carl's feet landed on the ground and his knees gave way. It was a small stumble, but, looking up, Carl saw Michonne and Daryl eye him worriedly. His legs solidified and took his weight, and he pushed past the concerned looks to go grab his backpack.
"Everyone ready?" Rick asked the three, coming from around the trees. His face was still bloody, but it seemed he had washed most of it off.
"Yeah." Daryl said as Michonne nodded. Carl knew she was eyeing him as he stayed quiet. Rick also noticed his silence because he walked up to Carl and put a hand on his shoulder. Carl tried not to flinch at the contact but failed. However, he didn't fail to see how that small jerk of his body caused Michonne's eyes to widen, caused Daryl to look down at his feet, or how his father drew his hand away like Carl's body had burned it.
"Carl, are you okay to hit the road. We don't have much farther, and we can always stop if you-"
"-I'm fine. Let's go." Carl interrupted. His pulled his backpack up, adjusting it so his body wouldn't ache so much. It didn't help, but his father took that as an okay to get moving. Carl stayed behind the group as they walked. He knew the back of his jeans were covered in evidence of last night. His limped slightly as walked, but the pain helped him keep going. Feeling pain meant you're alive. He would take that any day. Rick and Michonne walked ahead, quietly exchanging a few words. Daryl walked in front of him, sometimes alongside of him. The redneck cast glances his way every few minutes, but made no move to initiate a conversation. That was fine with him.
He kept his eyes on his feet, trying to ensure that he would not fall and have to face more pain than necessary. He rubbed at his eyes and sighed. His vision was blurry, he was exhausted. They had been following the railroad for hours now. As they neared their destination, the group got more and more quiet. Nervous, maybe. Rick walked over to a piece of wood on the side of the rails. Swiping his foot to clear it, the name Terminus showed in black.
"We're getting close. Be there before sundown." Daryl said as he walked up to Rick and Michonne. Carl remained silent. He was currently battling his rapidly blurring vision and the pain that pulsed through his body. Michonne looked down the track, as if she could see Terminus move closer with the force of her will. Rick nodded.
"Now we head through the woods. We don't know who they are." Rick sounded tired. Carl took a breath. The woods would be better for them but harder to carelessly walk through. He couldn't drag his feet or let his guard down. His shook his head to clear it.
"All right." Daryl replied walking forward. Carl followed closely behind. They walked for a bit. Michonne had eventually fallen in step with Carl.
"How you holding up?" She asked. Carl almost didn't notice her quiet voice amidst the crunching of leaves and twigs. He glanced up, surprised, sweat gathered on his forehead.
"What?" He asked, almost tripping over a tree root. His mouth felt dry. Michonne took a moment to fully scan him. He could feel her eyes raking over his body, trying to assess his state of being.
"Rick!" She called. Rick and Daryl, who were a bit ahead, stopped. Rick had whipped his knife out, ready to strike. Daryl had his trusted crossbow ready to fire.
"We're taking a rest." Michonne then said, and Rick's eyes instantly went to Carl. Carl didn't notice though, he was wavering on unsteady feet. His vision finally decided, fuck this I'm out, and he felt hands grab him. It was a weird sensation. He felt these hands on his body as if he weren't in his own body. Yelling reached his ears and entered his mind.
"Carl? Can you hear me?" Yes. Yeah, he can hear you. His stomach lurched suddenly as the sensation of spinning washed over him.
"Carl, nod your head if you can hear me." Another voice asked. He tried to find the voice in the dark, nodding his head.
"Rick, he's been bleeding." A third voice chimed in, his southern drawl familiar. Without warning, hands were fumbling with his clothes. Hands fumbling with his clothes, holding him down, what was going on? Pain, he remembers. He remembers pain like he had never felt before. Carl can't tell if that pain is happening right now or if it is simply a memory, but the chill kiss of the air on his skin is very real. He screams.