Noxi: I can't help but take the pieces of my broken heart and lay them before you. I had a sudden inspiration to let Carol speak, and I really hope you enjoy this. I haven't done a POV piece in a while. Listen to either The Mercy of the Living or Sophia's Return on youtube while reading. It just might make the experience better.
Warnings: Possible spoilers for Season 4 Episode 14 "The Grove". Heavy angst, and the death of a child.
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
A Mother's Burden
She stared at the back of her head, anger and pain welling up inside her, like a sink filling too high and the water cascading off the sides. It was a cruel reality that this is who she was now, who she had become. A killer. The one who did what nobody else wanted, or could. She had born that weight, and she had resigned to carry it. But that didn't make taking each step forward any easier. One day she feared she was going to fall to her knees and not get up again.
The quiet of the woods roared in her ears, destroying the peaceful silence that they had shared not so long ago. But it wasn't just this burden she carried now. It was the frail image of her little girl that scorched her eyes, burned into her brain and never let go. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She had finally gotten passed it, had finally closed up that wound. It wasn't healed, may never be. But at least it had scabbed over, given her time to grow stronger. She had finally stopped picking at it and had let it be.
When was she going to stop losing her?
She hadn't been able to do it then. She was weak, useless, unwilling. She hadn't been able to save anyone then. She thought she had nothing - nothing to lose, nothing to gain. A weak woman unable to stand on her own two feet. This world, and the last had done nothing but bring heartache on her. And it wasn't changing. She should have known better than to think that the worst part of all this was over.
She was stupid. And a liar. And she was still weak. But she had managed to find her own legs and stand on them. She had made a decision about herself. But even if all that was true, she still couldn't walk away from this. She still couldn't let it continue. She had been idle in the fate of her daughter. There was no room for that anymore. She had no more excuses, couldn't keep pushing away what she knew must be done.
The gun was like a brick in her hand, and she wanted to use every excuse not to pull it up - things would change, she could help her, it didn't have to be this way. I love you.
And she did. She had taken Lizzie and Mika under her care since Ryan had passed. She took care of them, made sure they were warm, safe and fed. She knew better than to allow her heart to take hold of them. But it was unavoidable. They had settled there anyway.
She swore to herself that she wouldn't let this happen. She wasn't going to go through that again; the loss of a child. Once had been enough.
But just as a bird who loses its wings, never forgets how to fly; a mother is always a mother. And Carol had never stopped trying to spread her wings, even though they had been clipped.
She loved Lizzie. She wanted to take her away, and give her everything she wanted. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't walk away from what was real and alive. She didn't know if her family had survived, but she wasn't going to walk away from the one's she had left. Tyreese deserved to know the truth, and Judith deserved a chance at life. She wasn't going to walk away from them now. Even if this burned her from the inside out.
Because that was what a mother did; carried the weight of her children her entire life. Took them in her soul, carved them into her heart, buried them deep within. No matter what life made of them, they were always connected by a bond that couldn't be severed - by distance or death.
She didn't want this. Had already lost one daughter
But this was where her choices had led her. This was the hand she had picked.
Her lip trembled, as she watched Lizzie's shoulders shudder and her cries echo around them. She was supposed to go to her, wrap her arms around her and tell her that everything would be okay. That it would get better. That this was just a part of growing up.
She cocked the hammer, letting the gun hang heavy at her side. She felt like it was pulling her into the hole that had suddenly opened up beneath her and was trying to swallow her.
"Just look at the flowers," she muttered, pulling the gun up, her hand trembling so violently she didn't know if she could do it. A vibrant reminder that she wasn't strong. She wasn't someone to be looked up to. And she was always meant to be alone.
Her finger wavered over the trigger. She had taken life in her hands and made a choice. She had become someone she had never thought she would be.
"And I feel bad for them."
"Because they probably weren't like that before."
She had never wanted to become this though, this person. She had been proud of who she was before, when the sound of mother was the only thing that had ever made sense in her life and filled her with utter joy and made her complete. It was her duty, her job, her life to love and protect her family, her children. Unfaltering love, complete dedication, and unwavering sacrifice - that was who she was. She had always taken care of the people around her.
But couldn't stay that way. She had to move on, become stronger, shift as the world turned around her. She had adapted as she thought she was supposed too.
So why was she the only one who kept living? Why was it her who was left standing in the end, when all of her children were left buried at her feet?
The tears slipped down her cheeks, and she pulled the trigger, the crack of the gun stopping her heart as she watched her small, frail body fall to the ground, still. Her hand swung to her side, heavy and burdened. She stared at Lizzie's body, forcing the sob back down her throat as she curled her other arm around her stomach, holding it all in.
This was her burden.
Her chin dropped to her chest, and she let the tears fall, slipping across her nose. She had changed. She had changed and it hadn't been for better or worse. She had done a necessary evil for the greater good.
It was cruel and it was unfair. And it was tearing her heart apart. She was tired of losing people. Tired of burying them. She was tired of being strong, when she was the only one left standing.
She was tired of carrying around a broken heart, held together with only tape.
Because one day it was all going to fall apart, and what would she have to show for it? Who would be there to pick it all, her, back up?
She lifted her eyes to the emptiness around her, bottom lip quivering, and started walking. And with each step she took, she pressed the tape harder to the cracks, and hoped it would hold.
A/N: Okay, so I know Carol is strong. I know it. But I can't help but believe that inside of her she harbors such sorrow over the loss of her daughter still, and falters under the burden of her sins. She keeps walking, yes. She believes she did what she had too. But I also think she's a broken women barely being held together sometimes. She carries so much on her shoulders, and I just. Wish for once that someone would be a pillar for her.
Thank you for reading!