"Nice move, Carl," I heard Jessie laugh behind me. I turned my head slightly to look at her, angrily throwing her axe into the head of a walker. I just snickered. We were sent on a run with Michonne, but as usual, there was a group of walkers in the way. We can take care of them. I looked ahead of me – Michonne taking on most of the walkers with her sword. As usual.

"Watch this," I yelled to Jessie, swinging my machete over my head before spinning and slicing the head of a walker clean off at the neck. I ended in a crouched position, machete poised on one hand and the other hand pointing out. I heard Jessie laugh, then the sound of bones being crushed.

"You're so dramatic!" she yelled. I gave a small bow, then killed another walker. "I know!"

We started playing this game. We were showing off. It was fun. Probably not smart, but we did it anyway.

I could see the road we were supposed to be following, but we were stuck in this field still. No matter how many walkers the three of us killed, we were still stuck in this field, this familiar field.

It suddenly hit me as to where we were right now. I spun to tell Michonne, but she was no longer there. Where did she go? More walkers were coming at me.

I turned to find Jessie, just to see her being overtaken with walkers. My heart was racing, I reached for my gun as a I screamed , "NO!"

My gun. It wasn't there! I looked down. My holster wasn't there! Did I forget it?

I looked at her, only a machete in hand, walkers coming for us in every direction. I sliced off heads around me, but I wasn't quick enough. Their cold, dead hands were grabbing at me now. I looked for Jessie's eyes, to tell her I was sorry, that I couldn't protect her any longer, then I saw it. I saw Jessie killing walkers but she didn't see the one standing behind her. He bit into her shoulder and she screamed. I screamed. It was Rick. He was a walker and he just sentenced Jessie to death.

Time went slowly. No, this isn't possible, I ran my machete through his skull. I could feel bites in my skin, my insides being ripped out, but I only screamed about Jessie. She made eye contact with me as she went down, the walkers covering her. I'd never see her again. But as I was being pulled to the ground out of weakness, Rick, walker Rick, made eye contact with me. My heart stopped.

I woke up in my cot, stifling a scream. I was sweaty and shaking. It was just a dream, Carl, just a dream. That wasn't a dream. That was a nightmare. I slowed my breathing down to a normal pace, laying back down. I threw the covers off of me angrily. It was a different nightmare. For the first time, it was different. It had Jessie in it. It seemed so real, I could feel it. Tears welled up in my eyes. No, I can't do this anymore.

I got up out of my bed, strapping my holster around my waist. First I dream about my dad being killed over and over again, now Jessie? She was still alive, I couldn't watch her die, night after night. Watch Michonne die night after night. Occasionally relive Judith's birth and Mom's death. I couldn't do this anymore. I put on my hat. What was the point? Keep living in this hell only to be killed in the most painful way possible? It wasn't worth it anymore.

I stepped out of my cell. It was dark outside. There was moonlight coming in through the windows. I breathed in the smell of the prison for the last time – the mustiness and death. I walked in the lobby. If I went upstairs, I would make too much noise. Goodbye Michonne and Daryl.

I walked to Beth's cell. She was asleep, Judith on a mattress on the floor. I'm sorry, Judith, I truly am.

I walked to Shawna's cell, nodding to her sleeping body, Good luck.

I walked into Jessie's cell. I looked down at her sleeping face. Breathing quietly. Her arm hung over the bed, her hand open over her axe, sitting on the floor. She must've fallen asleep holding it. I'm sorry, I thought to her, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. Good luck.

I went back into my cell, pulling my journal out from under my mattress and leaving it open to the first page on my desk. I would write a note, but I have no writing utensil. This journal should be enough. I passed Glenn and Maggie's cell. It was just Maggie and William asleep. Glenn must be on watch. I walked in and looked at the two of them sleeping. Thank you for everything, Maggie. I kissed her on the cheek as well.

I left C block's gate open when I left. Let them know I did this out of my own free will. I walked out of the prison and started for the courtyard. I would have to open the gate to get to the field. Luckily, I've already planned every step of this out, just in case. I had a small part of the gate cut. No one noticed it because it was at one end of the gate. I slinked through and walked to the graves. I had been digging my grave for a while now, both physically and mentally. No one noticed it because I was always out here farming. But, as I said, I had everything planned out.

How would I end my life? I could just go into the forest and walk into a group of walkers unarmed, but I wanted this to be painless. That also eliminated my machete. Gun to the head, it was. My dad's gun, of course.

Hopefully Glenn wouldn't notice me in the field. That was the one hitch. But I guessed that he was either asleep or just not paying attention to this side. I stood in front of the grave I had dug next to Rick's. I looked to the left and saw the countless number of graves I've had to dig before. Carol. Herschel. Andrea. Tyresse. Mom. Any friend I've ever had.

I sighed, turning so that my back faced the grave. I always thought that people who committed suicide were weak. I didn't think that anymore, hadn't for a while. They were getting out the easy way. They knew that they couldn't survive in this world, not like this. They were just being carried along.

They didn't need me. Daryl and Michonne tried to help, but I was just a third wheel. I wasn't nearly as good as them in this Apocalypse. I've had to be rescued countless times. I couldn't live with all these mental problems I was facing now. I wanted to see Mom. I wanted to see Dad. And everyone I ever killed, everyone I had ever known who had died. Everyone I had done wrong to, I wanted to say sorry.

A tear escaped my left eye as I pulled Dad's gun out the holster. Dad's holster. I turned off the safety, cocking it in my mouth, the barrel facing towards my brain. "Thank you," I whispered to no one. I wanted those to be my last words before leaving this world. A tear escaped my right eye as well before I pulled the trigger.