Carl Grimes: After Season 5 "Forget" and after Carl gave the speech to his dad about needing to 'try' (I didn't have time to rewatch to find it and google was no help). Enjoy!

If Carl was truly honest with himself, he was jealous of his baby sister. It wasn't that he truly wanted to switch places with her- he would never wish that upon anyone..well nearly anyone. Changing lives with Judith wouldn't really solve his problems anyway. The dead would still be walking, food would still be scarce, and danger would still be everywhere.

To be more accurate, Carl was jealous of his sister's memories, or lack there of. Little Judith wouldn't remember the bad from the very beginning. The panic on the news and the chaos in the streets. She didn't know what had happened to their mother-how she had died giving her daughter life. Judith had not yet seen people, loved ones, ripped apart before her.

Those graphic images did not play through her mind as she settled into bed each and every night. The weight of such a world didn't plague her nightmares. The final words "Goodnight Love" did not haunt her.

Judith didn't remember Beth or Hershel or any of the others which meant she could not miss them.

The curly-haired little girl, even now, wasn't yet aware of the bad but, more than that, she didn't have any memories from the world before. Those were the images that Carl wished he could lose.

Carl wanted to forget the good- the happy memories. Like playing with the neighborhood kids or that one time that he and Brian had found that old tire-swing in the old lot down the street. Pancake breakfasts on Saturday mornings with him mom and dad. Mrs. Mueller's gorgeous smile as her passion for history had infected the classroom or running full force down the stairs on Christmas morning at his grandparents every year.

Those happy and peaceful moments would haunt him forever. Judith did not wake up to images of family and friends now long gone. The warm feeling of wistful happiest that lingered just as she woke was not chased away every dawn by cold dread. She would never know better times than right now and Carl desperately wished that he could forget like her.

Such mundane moments from his past now disturbed his present. So much so, that he was driven out of their new house in Alexandria one night in hopes of clearing his head.

It had not been easy sneaking out of the home but he had found a way through the window of one of the backrooms. Carl wasn't even sure what the room was meant to be used for- maybe an office or a tiny bedroom? Either way, the window had opened with little noise and Carl had been sure to leave it very slightly cracked so that he could get back in later.

Despite the high walls that surrounded and protected Alexandria, Carl felt more at peace once he had slipped the small kitchen knife, one he had slipped from the drawer earlier that day, into his back pocket. He would have felt even better with his actual hunting knife or his pistol, but this would have to do for now.

The night air was warm- even for a summer night but it still helped Carl clear his thoughts. Walking at a slow pace, he remained vigilant as he wandered behind the houses, deciding to walk along the wall in search of weak spots. He doubted he would find any, knowing that most of his group had already done the same, but it would keep him busy.

Strangely enough the solid steel walls were the cause of his insomnia. The physical barriers that surrounded them and kept them safe had begun to slowly corrode his own mental barriers. Carl's mind was in chaos. His thoughts and emotions were raw and erratic and not just due to the sensitive nature of puberty. Carl's words to his father about 'having to try' were still true and he was going to keep trying- it was just hard right now.

Scuffing the toes of his sneakers through the dew-covered grass, Carl tried his hardest to think about nothing. It wasn't truly working until a sharp noise caught his attention. The reverberating twang of metal upon cement rang out from the street behind him. The young boy's blood pressure sky-rocketed as his feet instantly began running towards the noise.

Carl did not need to run far. Rounding the corner of the nearby house, he skidded to a stop to hide behind a large shrub bush, not even realizing that the small makeshift weapon was already in hand. Breathing deeply in order to prepare himself, Carl peeked through the thick leaves and quickly found the origin of the noise.

The garage door of Aaron and Eric's home was open, a bright light illuminating the surrounding area. A figure was standing there upon the cold cement floor. It only took the teen Carl mere seconds to recognize that the man was not Aaron or Eric but Daryl Dixon.

The man that Carl had grown to know since almost the very start was kneeling down to retrieve the tailpipe that he had apparently dropped. Bits and pieces of machinery lay around the garage, which Carl assumed was meant for the motorbike that stood in the center of the room. A metal wrench was held in one hand and the pipe in the other as he knelt next to the vehicle.

The warm night and the hard work had driven Daryl to remove his shirt. The shy man had only felt comfortable enough due to the empty nature of the street outside and the godly late hour. His scars were bold and easy to see in the bright lights overhead. They stood out raised and discolored. Circular burns littered his flesh here and there, mostly along his arms but it was the lashes that were still the most apparent.

Carl had seen glimpses of the scars a few times before but never this clearly. He didn't hold any disillusions about the origins of the wounds. Carl was old enough now and had seen more than enough to recognized the scars for what they were.

A new thought hit him hard and suddenly this time though. The young teen's dark brown eyes widened and his expression slackened with sorrow at the realization.

Here Carl was, cursing his best and most happy memories and there was a man before him, a fellow survivor, that most likely did not have any pleasant memories of his own. Or at least very, very few.

Allowing himself another long moment to study the scars once more before he turned away to creep back to his bed, Carl decided then and there to always treasure his good memories no matter how hard it got. He would hold the moments he had had with his childhood friends close to his heart. The times his dad had helped him with his homework, or his mom had made him help her with dinner.

Those mundane moments were precious and needed to be valued.

Okay, guys. I know it has been a really, really long time. I'm sorry! I'm going to be posting this one and maybe one or two more (Negan for sure!) in the next week. Then I am marking this as done and moving forward. I've just kinda lost the excitement. :(

But thank you all so much for sticking with me and for all of your encouraging words! They mean soo much!