Note: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter; I had a super busy semester filled with a ton of sports, school, and massive projects. Now that it's summer I have less going on and I should be able to post more often again.
It wasn't long before Rick found me again to ask what had just happened. At first I tried to just avoid him; I didn't need to bring someone else into my shitty life again. I knew how that would end, I would get attached and he would die.
"Sydney get back here! What the hell were you talking about?" Rick shouted behind me.
I whipped around, looking straight at him. He had been closer to me than I had thought and I nearly collided with him.
"You really want to know what I was talking about?" I yelled, "I was talking about my asshole father and how he beat me and raped me when I was little and I was talking about my friend's dad who somehow made me feel safe even when he was angry! You're like him, you don't hit, you just yell. I can choose whether or not words can hurt, but I don't get that choice when someone beats me."
I sighed, "Rick... I'm sorry, alright? I was stubborn and I wanted to do whatever I felt like. Not to make excuses, but when the person who has had complete control over your entire life is finally gone, you feel so much more powerful. That can really mess with you."
Rick looked down and sighed. We just stood there in silence for what felt hours, until he finally spoke.
"I don't know what that's like, and I'm not going to pretend to understand. You're obviously figuring it out for yourself, but I need you to control yourself. No one is safe if you keep running around pulling this whiny rebel shit. I know you've been through a lot, but so has everyone else. Just, please, find your place and stay there, that will help a lot."
Rick started to walk away, but he turned back just before he was out the door.
"And Sydney, if you need anything, I'm here; so is everyone else."
He left, and I sat down, leaning against the wall. I thought about everything he'd just said until I fell asleep.
Something hit my foot and woke me up.
"What are you doing there?"
In front of me stood a kid with a cowboy hat. He looked about my age, but I didn't recognize him. I rubbed my eyes and tried to figure out who it was, and finally it clicked.
"Oh you're Carl. I remember Rick telling me about you."
Carl continued to stare at me, obviously unamused.
"How have I never seen you? This place isn't very big and there's only, like, fifty people here."
He smirked, "I've been out shooting walkers."
I glared at him. "Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole."
He laughed and I stretched out my arm so he could help me up. When he grabbed my hand, I pulled down hard and threw him onto the ground next to me.
"That's for being an asshole," I giggled.
"God that actually kinda hurt," he laughed and leaned back on the wall next to me. "I heard about some walker you saw at the fence. I didn't hear everything but they said it was someone you knew."
I tensed up. Even though it was a liberating moment, my peace was short-lived. Now and then I felt guilty and scared because of my dad's death. I wasn't sure why.
"My dad."
Carl's eyes widened, and he immediately apologized. I stopped him mid-apology,
"No, no it's fine. He wasn't exactly the best person when he was human anyway."
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then decided against it. When he opened his mouth again, though, he did speak.
"So how did you two get separated?"
"Ha... separated. No it wasn't like that. He left my mom and I when I was seven, just before my brother Sam was born. He got tired of paying for a worthless kid and a disobedient wife, so he went to work and never came home."
"But your mom is here, right? I saw a woman that looked kind of like you."
I just looked at Carl and waited for him to figure it out. He should know that this life didn't have happy endings like that. But as I looked at him, I saw pain, scars, a past that he wished could be undone. I saw a broken kid who was alone no matter how many people surrounded him. I saw myself.
"No. She was killed along with my brother before I got here," I said.
"Oh. Sorry," he whispered as he looked solemnly at his feet.
"What about your mom?"
Carl kept staring at his feet, breathing deeply. I waited patiently for the answer he may never give me.
"She was dying after giving birth to my sister, Judith. I didn't want her to turn so I had to-"
He stopped, his hands balled into fists. My thoughts raced back to when I found my mom in Sammy's room, chunks of flesh ripped from her body, blood staining her clothes. I remembered her glossy eyes staring at me and my knife through her bleeding skull. It was something I would always try to forget, but I would never succeed.
I reached over and grabbed Carl's hand. He looked up at me, still angry, but softened his glare after a moment. I looked at his blue eyes and silently reassured myself that things could get better.