"Christ! That is disgusting, no wonder you cover that up. Have you seen it? I mean, have you looked in the mirror? That is gross as hell! I can see your socket. I wanna touch it… Oh c'mon, can I touch it?"

His harsh words were a constant echo in Carl's mind. It had been just over a day since he had heard them, yet he knew they'd leave a permanent scar, although not like the one now engraved into his once smooth, unmarred profile. It'd leave a defect unseeable to others, one that was etched into both his head and his heart, no doubt leaving him with chronic headaches and chest pains. He could already feel a twinge in his throat, yearning to just swallow his pride and break down. But he couldn't. Not right now. Not in front of all these people.

He tried to pay attention to his father's speech. He really did. However, his mind kept wandering. He stared up at the blank canvas on the wall where Gregory's prized painting used to be without so much as a blink. The voices around him faded with each passing second, blurring along with his vision in his only eye. He convinced himself that the watering was due to a lack of blinking, but he was smart enough to know that it could've had a deeper reason than that.

He couldn't help but feel useless. Completely expendable. The teen that was once considered to be one of the best shots in the group, despite his age, now failed to shoot even a lone walker two meters in front of him. It was an embarrassment. He was an embarrassment. His father must have been so damn ashamed to have a son as worthless as him. According to the young brunet, no one wanted to associate themselves with Carl Grimes. No one dared to take him on as much runs anymore as they used to. It was a death wish.

"Carl?" Michonne's gentle voice interrupted his thoughts. He was soon broken from his trance and turned to look over at her, feeling the tension in his lithe form subside the slightest bit as her round, chestnut eyes watched him with the same calming aura as they usually did. The corners of her mouth twitched up slightly in a concerned smile and she slowly reached out her hand, placing it on the brunet's wrist before softly tracing her thumb across it in small circles.

Rick stepped forward cautiously, gaining Carl's attention. His eyes were wide with worry, which proceeded to make his boy feel ten times worse. He soon came to the realization that everyone in the room had focused their attention on him alone. He felt himself twitch slightly and cowered behind Michonne. "What?" the teenager inquired aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh," Enid soothed him, turning his face towards her and gently wiping away the flow of tears currently pouring from his eye, which was previously unbeknown to him. He hastily snatched his arm back and jumped away from them, turning around to face the bookshelf while roughly wiping the wetness away. They just wouldn't fucking stop.

"Carl, c'mere," he heard Michonne's voice whisper, but for once, he didn't want her consolation. He didn't want anybody's. What he wanted was to be alone, which was exactly what he intended on doing.

The brunet swiftly exited the spacious room and slammed the door behind him. He pretended not to hear it open and shut once again as he dashed up the stairs and into one of the pristine bathrooms. Upon shoving his hands under the now running tap, he splashed water on the parts of his face that weren't masked by the scratchy bandage wrapped tightly around his throbbing scalp. Carl sighed with content as the clean, cold water relieved his flushed face of the unbearable heat it had just been experiencing.

He slowly raised his head and looked at his dejected expression. Although his eye remained relatively bloodshot, the tears melted seamlessly in with the tap water. His skin was red from rubbing it so aggressively and he could feel the slight burning sensation, particularly in more sensitive areas like his under eye. He then noticed that his bandage had rode up slightly and was quick to pull it back down, heart pounding mercilessly in his chest. He didn't want to see it. He wasn't ready yet.

He had refrained from looking at the brutal scarring since the day he first woke up with seventy degrees of vision vanished. Changing the bandage every day was quite a task and he usually ended up asking Michonne to help him out. She obliged, of course, but continuously told him that there would come a time when he'd have to face his fears.

He knew he'd have to look eventually. That went without saying. After all, he couldn't exactly spend the rest of his presumably short life hiding behind a metaphorical curtain. There was no way of getting out of it; it was inevitable. The injury was right there on his face, for God's sake. He knew all of this, he accepted all of this, but bringing himself to actually work up the courage to take action was just too damn hard.

"You are smart, and you are strong, and you are so brave… and I love you," his mother's sweet voice replayed in his mind all of a sudden. The downtrodden boy swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to let another tear fall. She was right, he knew she was. There was no way in hell he considered himself to be weak. He wasn't allowed to be, not after everything he went through.

With a deep, ragged breath, Carl slowly trailed his hands upwards towards the muted white fabric, clasping the edges with delicate fingers. He repeated the action of the previous day, although this time it was different. As he gradually unfurled the bandage from around his head, he realized that he wasn't being forced this time. He could stop at any second, turn back around and walk right out that door. He could stroll back into Gregory's office with his held high, acting as if nothing had happened, ignoring the perplexed gazes of both his biological and unbiological family. But he didn't want to. This was something he needed to do.

Suddenly, he felt the item become limp in his hands. He placed it on the edge of the sink and waited. He didn't know exactly what he was waiting for, but he assumed it was for the perfect time to look up at the beautiful monstrosity carved into him. Everything was silent, aside from the quiet breathing from both him and the patient individual standing just outside the door, although not to his knowledge. He gulped, slowly lifting his gaze and fixating it upon his somewhat unfamiliar reflection.

To put it simply, Carl was speechless. He stared at the blackish-red scab in awe, leaning forward a bit to get a closer look. He could see every last detail of the wound, from the sunken in hole itself to the clearly irritated, scarred skin surrounding it. His right eyebrow, which was once dark and full, was now completely obliterated. He had absolutely no way of describing it. The brunet was completely in the dark about his feelings at that current point in time. Was it cool? Maybe. Horrific? Probably. Unique?...

Definitely.

He felt himself earning a hint of a smile. It was faint, but there. The anxiety began to pour away and he was left feeling more relieved than he had felt in a long time, the realization that it wasn't as bad as he had originally thought coming into play just as he had hoped. Carl looked back down at the fabric left strewn atop the porcelain rim of the sink, contemplating whether or not he should put it back on.

"Don't."

Carl paused before craning his head to the right, seeing Enid leaning against the doorframe with a small smile etched onto her pretty, simple features. She looked so perfect like that. It wasn't often that he saw her smile, but he seemed to have been blessed over the past couple of days. He bit his lip to stop his grin from spreading and looked away from her, causing relief to wash over her at his now cheerful mood. The brunette pushed herself away from the door and slowly walked over to the quiet teen, unfolding her arms in order to carefully clasp onto Carl's jawline and turn his head towards her, just like she had done earlier.

The boy cleared his throat and gazed into her sky-blue eyes, feeling his breath shallow as her attention was soon fixated on his imperfection. Enid leaned up slightly and brushed his unkempt bangs away from his blushing face, softly pecking his dry, cracked lips with her soft, plump ones. "It's okay," she cooed, grazing her lips against his quivering jaw.

"Shut up," he mumbled, wrapping his lean arms around her waist and burying his face into her shoulder. Enid laughed softly and snaked her hands around the back of his neck before twirling a long strand of chocolate-brown hair around her nimble finger.

"I think it looks pretty cool," Enid declared confidently.

"I think you're delusional and a shitty liar."

She shook her head subtly. "Stop being an idiot and look at me, Carl," the girl commanded, pulling away from him and holding him at arm's length to get a better look at his appearance. His crystal-blue eye watched her timidly, fighting to maintain a clear vision as he peaked up at her through long, cinnamon lashes. Enid's sudden grin proved to be rather infectious and Carl couldn't help but smile sadly back at her. "This is the way it is now," she whispered with a sigh, "and that's perfectly fine. You'll get used to it, I'll get used to it, everyone will… But it'll take time. All I know is that this is the way you are now and you're… you're perfect to me. This doesn't change anything, Carl. Not one damn thing, okay?"

"Okay," was his quiet, breathless response. "Okay…" He nodded to himself and repeated this over and over again a few more times before Enid shushed him in the only way she knew how. Their lips remained locked for a moment until Carl gently pulled away, mumbling against the corner of her mouth, "We should probably head back down, dad'll have a stroke."

She snorted and kissed his cheek before stepping away from him and picking up the bandage. "You can put it back on if you want," the brunette smiled, handing it over. Carl hesitated for a second. Again, he was faced with a decision. Something he could choose to do himself without being pressured by a man twice his size and half as sane. He took one last glance at the fabric before sighing and taking it off her. He looked in the mirror and bit his lip as he was met with the same appearance as before, only this time, he wasn't even nearly as flabbergasted.

He carefully began to wrap up his face and felt himself gaining confidence with every lap of his head. The teenager prayed that one day he wouldn't even need the mask at all. That maybe, just maybe, he'd come to terms with it just like Enid had said. Upon finishing, Carl gave her a genuine smile, one that she was looking forward to getting used to seeing more often, and reached out a shaking hand. She gratefully took his hand in hers and pulled him along, abandoning the room in which both individuals had experienced a wider range of emotions than they had ever deemed possible. All that mattered to them, however, was that they left with a strong feeling of joy pumping through their bodies, something they weren't expecting in a situation as overall grim as they were currently facing.

"So, where is this place?" Rick inquired.

"Not too far. I'll tag along, show you the way."

Rick nodded at Jesus in thanks before turning to Maggie, patting her shoulder. "You stay here, help keep Gregory in check," he muttered, glaring daggers at the man as he stared out at them from his window.

"Right, good luck," she smiled at him before giving him a quick hug. "Come back in a day or two and we can talk about what's happening then. And remember, give this guy a chance. If Jesus trusts him, we can too."

"Yeah, we'll see," he sighed, pulling away from her and hopping into one of the trucks. He watched the large building and sighed, leaning his elbow against the edge of the rolled down window and propping his head up on his calloused palm. "Do you think it'd be better for Carl to hang out here 'til we get back?" As if on cue, he watched with a sigh of relief as his eldest exited the mansion, but his face froze as he noticed his fingers laced together with Enid's. "Well I'll be damned," he uttered under his breath.

Once they reached the vehicles, Enid unclasped her and Carl's hands before taking a deep breath and looking up at him. "So, what now?"

"I have to go home," he frowned.

"Not yet, kiddo," Michonne smiled softly, moving towards him. "We have to make a stop along the way. There's a community nearby called the Kingdom, Jesus thinks we should check it out. They could help us fight. You in, or are you staying here?"

"I'm in," Carl responded before looking over at Enid expectantly.

"I can't," she sighed. "I need to stay here with Maggie."

"Oh… I guess I'll, umm… see you around then?"

The brunette laughed and playfully punched his arm before enveloping him in a warm, loving embrace. "Yeah, I'll see you later," she winked, kissing his cheek before moving over to stand beside who she considered to be a second mother to her, allowing Maggie to hold her in a one-armed hug and rub up and down her arm.

Carl blushed and waved shyly before turning around and placing his head in his hands, clearly mortified at his lack of game, although to be fair, he didn't exactly have a handful of experience. He sighed as he felt Michonne's strong arm wrap around his shoulder, leading him to his dad's truck. "C'mon, smooth stuff," she teased.

He nudged her side in feigned annoyance and sat in beside Rick, avoiding eye contact with him. Rick smirked knowingly at him but refrained from mentioning anything about the young girl a few feet away. He started up the truck and cleared his throat, gaining his son's attention. "What happened back there?" he inquired, a frown forming on his restless face. "When you stormed off… Something you want to tell me?" Michonne remained silent but secretly listened in on their conversation, her hatred of being nosey overpowered by her growing concern.

"It doesn't matter," Carl muttered.

Rick spared a glance at him before looking back onto the road, skilfully dodging a stray walker lolloping along the trail. "All good?"

"All good," he confirmed, a hint of a smile spreading across his face. He looked up into the rear-view mirror and watched as the beautiful girl behind them faded off into the distance, faintly seeing her waving shyly back at him just as he had done moments before. Once the Hilltop was no longer in sight, he looked down at his knees and sighed. He'd be okay. He just had to believe it himself.

A/N

It feels so good to be back writing again. I've missed this. I figured I'd start off with something new and post a Walking Dead oneshot seeing as both that and South Park are the only shows I consider myself to be a die hard fan of. But don't worry, more South Park fics are on the way! I'm halfway finished the first chapter of a story I had been planning out for a while and I also have a couple of ideas up my sleeve for some other content too. All I need is the time to execute them. My much needed week off school is getting closer and closer so I'll be glued to my laptop for the majority of it. I have exams coming up just before the break so they're kind of occupying my time right now. Anyway, I'm looking forward to being able to write more for you guys because goddamn it's been a while. Thanks for sticking around. :)