"Carl, I told you to stop ignoring me, and that I need you to look after Judith today!" I was awakened by Beth's whining voice. I don't remember going back to my cot, but apparently I had fallen asleep. A dreamless sleep, thank god.

Oh, fuck, I thought, I'm supposed to be on guard! I started to go for my holster to realize that I was still wearing it, machete too. But - my gun! My hat! They were still in the field!

I was about to walk around Beth when she grabbed my upper arm with her claw-like hands, squeezing tighter than usual. "Daryl went up on guard for you. You don't need to leave C block, Daryl said to let you sleep, but you've slept in enough!" Beth's voice went up a few registers, which I'm pretty sure woke up anyone else who was asleep in C block. I could hear William crying next door in Maggie and Glenn's cell. I heard Maggie shush the baby quietly, humming to him to get him to sleep.

I left Beth in my cell to go to hers to get Judith. She laid tiredly, but awake, on her smaller mattress. She smiled up at me, her arms reaching out to me. I smiled, leaning over to pick her up. She hugged my neck, then just laid on me, still sleepy. I took her to my cell to lay on my cot next to me. She always thought it was special to come into my cell with me. Carl's cell, big brother's cell.

"Can you read to me, Carl?" she asked with a yawn. I smiled, "Of course," I stood up to go to my desk, with piles of books and comic books sitting on my desk. "Can we finish Aquaman?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, picking it up off the top of the stack. That's when I noticed that my journal was missing. I had set it on the table last night, my suicide note. Suicide book. I hadn't put it anywhere, I don't remember if I did. I looked under the table to see if it had fallen. No. It was missing!

I sat next to Judith with the comic book, pretending like nothing was wrong. I opened to the page we left off at, reading to her and with her, but all I could think about was that my journal was missing. Someone must've taken it. Jessie? Daryl? Beth? Maggie? Who could've taken it? Who had come in my room?

I must've been self-absorbed with my own thoughts to not notice Jessie standing in the doorway. I didn't notice till I felt Judith hug my arm and hide her face behind my back.

"What's wrong, Judy?" I asked her, looking up to meet eyes with Jessie. She gave me a small wave and glanced at Judith. Oh. Judith was scared of her. Judith has never met new people before. She has literally been living with the people in the prison her entire life. This is strange. No wonder she was scared.

I motioned Jessie to come towards us. She sat on the floor facing Judith.

"Judith, this is Jessie. Jessie just came here yesterday. She's new," I said to Judith. Judith peeked her head around my arm to glance at her, then went back behind me. "Judith, say hi to Jessie," I prompted her. Judith clearly wasn't going to respond, so Jessie said hi to her, putting her hair behind her ears to show her whole face. Judith still hid behind me.

"I tried," she shrugged to me, putting her hair back as it usually laid: covering her ears, unable to see the sides of her face when it wasn't in a ponytail. I smiled at her.

I looked between Judith and Jessie. Jessie was mesmerized by her. I realized that Jessie probably hadn't seen a toddler since this apocalypse started.

"How old is she?" Jessie asked. I looked down at Judith, who was now peeking one eye out from behind my arm.

"She's 4 years old. And very smart for her age," I said, loudly enough to get Judith to come out from behind my arm. She looked up at me and smiled, now sticking her head between my arm and my body so Jessie could see her.

"Hi," Jessie said, smiling at Judith. "Judy, say hi," I whispered to her. She looked up at me then back at Jessie, resisting the urge to hide behind my arm again. "Hi," she whimpered, more to me than to Jessie. Jessie beamed and clapped, praising her. Judith smiled, welcoming it. I laughed along with Jessie. God, she was wonderful.

Not much later, Shawna stood in my doorway, lightly knocking on the frame. "Um, hey, Carl. Do you think you could show us how to wash clothes here? I have honestly been looking forward to that." I smiled up at her, "Yeah, sure."

"C'mon, Judy," I said to Judith, standing up, "We're going to help the big girls wash clothes." Judith frowned, from both the sound of chores and seeing another new person. "I don't want to, Carl!" She stayed sitting on my bed.

I went down on one knee, facing her on my cot. "C'mon, Judy, you have to show these new girls how to wash clothes! You're great at washing clothes! Plus," I lowered my voice, "if you don't show them how to wash clothes, then you have to go back with Beth." She just frowned. "Okay."

I laughed, picking her up and carrying her with us. Shawna and Jessie both had an armful of clothes they wanted to wash, following me through the maze that was the prison. There were two main sides to the prison: the front, with the grass, garden, graves, watchtower, and irrigation system. And the back, where we did laundry, got rid of trash, and kept the vehicles and gas. It was a neat irrigation system Dad and Daryl helped make, getting water from the stream nearby. They made a filtering system for our drinking water, free-flowing water for watering plants, water stored to use in showers inside. Basically, we weren't running out of water anytime soon.

I led them out to where we had old-time washing boards at a free-flowing stream. We extended the borders of the prison to enclose a section of the stream, but that was in its own cage, basically. So, even if walkers got in through the gated stream, they couldn't get into the main gate of the prison. I put Judith down and helped the girls wash their clothes in the stream, even using our homemade soap. Judy splashed us and we splashed back, laughing quietly. Didn't want to draw too much attention.

We hung the clothes up on the clotheslines. The breeze blew the clothes in slow, wave-like motions, the sun shining through them, giving me a short moment of nirvana. My eyes glazed over, watching the old clothes freely dry. Judy said something, bringing back to the real world. I answered her, smiling. That's when I heard a distant snarl. My ears perked up, throwing my head back to spot a walker in the distance. I smiled down at Judith, telling her it was time to go inside.

Judith still had never seen a walker before, and I am not sure when she will. At this point, I have gotten so used to living among the undead that I can recognize a snarl from a mile away. It must've heard us splashing. I carried Judith and lead Jessie and Shawna through the maze of the prison, back to C Block. I was explaining to them how we kept up the garden and how we needed to go gardening.

Judith was complaining about the garden, saying she was too tired to help out. "Then you'll have to go back with Beth!" I told her. "Fine!" she said, pouting. Jessie and Shawna followed me to Beth's room.

Beth was hunched over her desk, intently reading something. "Beth," I said. She jumped, spinning around to give me an angry face. "What, Carl?" she asked, annoyed, but softened her look when she saw Shawna and Jessie standing behind me. She stood quickly, bumping her desk as she stood, smiling at the new girls. I ignored it and put Judith down. "I'm going to show Jessie and Shawna the garden, so I need you to watch Judy-"

"Carl, I really don't-"

"Beth, I need you to-"

"Carl, this is getting rid-"

"Beth, I'll stay here with you," we heard Shawna say. We both turned and looked at her, equally confused. She looked between the two of us, "I don't really like gardening, I'll stay here and talk to Beth and watch Judy. It's fine."

I was about to say something when Beth shut me up, thanking her. I wanted to thank her too, letting me be alone with Jessie. We left them in there, going through a different maze to get to the front of the prison. I opened the gate, now only thinking about the last time I went through here. That wave of familiar emotions swept over me, blood rushing to my face. I held back tears and was sure not to talk, for fear of my voice cracking. I breathed in deeply, as I usually did in these situations, as we slowly walked down to the other side of the field.

We passed the graves, "Do you see my hat or gun anywhere?" I whispered to Jessie. She shook her head, scanning the grass with me as we passed my grave. I knew that Daryl or Glenn was up there in the watchtower, probably watching us more than the field. We were walking away from the graves. Where could my hat and gun be?

We made it to the garden. I loved the garden. This was where I went when I really needed to distract myself. It was hard work, expanding the garden. It was something my dad and Hershel taught me, I guess that this was how I remembered them.

I loved the irony of the garden. This was literally the thing keeping us alive. When our canned food storage is running low, we survive on growing vegetables. We keep expanding the garden as to not wear out the soil, I know too much about the science of gardening. But the irony of the garden is that the things killing us, the walkers, are also keeping us alive. They're dead, they're accidentally fertilizing our soil. If there were no walkers, there would be no apocalypse or garden. Without them, we wouldn't need the garden, nor would we have it. But because of the walkers, we're dying, yet staying alive because they are fertilizing our garden. It's almost like our personal state of Limbo.

I explained my ironic theory to Jessie, who laughed and agreed with me. We each had a basket and were now pulling carrots out of the ground. It was a moment before Jessie brought up the elephant in the room, "Carl, are you okay?" I paused for a miniscule second, not enough for someone like Daryl to notice, but Jessie sure did notice. I did what I usually did: brushed it off. I kept pulling carrots, but they got heavier and heavier as my muscles weakened. Blood rushed to my cheeks and my jaw ached as the words I so desperately needed to say were crawling up my throat, scratching at my lips to escape. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to kill myself, that I couldn't live like this anymore, how guilty I would feel, how much I loved her. But, cowardly me, I answered how I always did, the same goddamn answer: "I'm fine."

I didn't make eye contact with her. I watched her hands as she dropped the carrot she was holding, her bare hands reaching out for mine. My hands stayed frozen in front of me, until I felt the warmth of hers around mine. She held my hands as tears escaped my eyes, one after the other. My face red and tears streaming down my face, I didn't sob. I silently cried, until I looked up at her face. She gave me a look that merely said I'm here for you. That's when I began sobbing. She moved closer to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, burying my face into her chest. I wrapped my arms around her, this being the second time within 24 hours that I had made my weakness known to her. To anyone.

I continued to sob. It was loud at first, but turned into silent bursts of tears. I was still worried that someone would see me crying. I couldn't have people see me crying. I just couldn't. And all I could think about was the fact that I couldn't find my hat, gun and journal. Three most important things I owned, besides my machete. What would happen if Daryl saw me like this?

I sat up straight, sniffling and madly wiping tears off my face. I made eye contact with Jessie, whispering "Thank you," to her, which triggered another wave of tears. My chosen last words. Those words will always trigger that memory for me now. Shit.

Jessie rubbed my arm while I calmed myself down. Stop, Carl.

I nodded a thanks to her, my face turning back to its normal color from red. She just watched me as I composed myself. "Want to talk about anything, Carl?"

I paused. Talk about what, though? About Mom? Dad? Judith? That guy I killed when I was twelve? The fact that I've lived in the Apocalypse for about a third of my life? That no one should suffer under these conditions? That I don't get to go to school or just be lazy, that I constantly have to be on guard? That I can never tell anyone this…?

She just watched me, no hint of judgment in her eyes. "Really?" I asked her, timid about speaking. She just nodded, "Of course." She reached out and placed her hand on mine. A shiver ran up my arm to my face, my heart pounding even more, I could feel myself blushing, just from that touch. She made me nervous but somehow I felt extremely comfortable with her. And I hadn't even known her for 24 hours.

"I mean, I don't really know what to say, Jessie," I began, thinking. "Where did these thoughts start, Carl?" she asked, trying to lead me along. I thought back. I mean, it could be since the beginning. Before Mom died, even. Before I had to kill Shane. Before that walker that killed Dale. I think… I think I might have always felt this way. Even before the Apocalypse, I just never felt comfortable. I think that I always hated everything. Just the survival here has hidden those feelings for a while… until recently.

"Probably when I had to shoot Shane. I mean, he had just turned into a walker, but that was still the first time I killed a walker. And I had known him before he had turned. And I was…. Thirteen? I think? But honestly, it was before that. I think that I had felt sad like this… before the Apocalypse ever happened…" I just trailed off, letting Jessie form her own conclusions from that statement.

"So… you think your personality is prone to…depression? Because you're definitely depressed, Carl," Jessie said to me, her thumb rubbing tiny circles on my hand. I but my lip. I know I am. It was just weird for someone to say it out loud.

"You know that I can never tell anyone about this, right? That I'm depressed or have thought about killing myself for some time now," I said to her, thinking.

"Why do you not want anyone to know, Carl?" Jessie asked. I stared at her thumb, still making tiny circles on my hand. "They wouldn't understand, Jessie. They see me as me, if they knew, they wouldn't see me the same way. Just as that kid who tried to kill himself. And I don't want them to worry about me. I don't really like telling people things… well, I never really get to tell people things. This is really weird, actually. I actually…. I think I like talking to you about this, Jessie," I said, looking up at her. She gave me a small smile.

"Did you ever think, Carl, that maybe the people here understand what you're going through? That they're also going through the Apocalypse and are mentally unstable? That someone here might actually know exactly what you're going through?" Jessie asked me, her voice becoming quieter as she spoke.

I paused and stared at the carrots. That someone here would…understand? That thought had literally never crossed my mind. Maybe I thought that I would be seen as weak but… I might not be the only one?

I looked back up at her. "No. I never thought about that." Even as I said it, I felt guilty. What had I not noticed? Someone else here going through these hardships? Would that explain Beth? Was she just stressed?

I thought about Jessie. She seemed to know a lot about this. "What about you, Jessie?" I asked her, turning my hand over so our palms would be touching. She almost took her hand away out of surprise, but stayed. She showed no emotion on her face. She was thinking. What to tell me. What lies to make up. What she should share.

"Are you asking me if I am depressed?" she asked solemnly. I nodded, "If you are or were depressed. If there is anything you want to share with me. You don't have to if you don't want to, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. It's just that… you do seem to know a lot about this. And you've been so helpful to me… I just want to do the same for you." It was my turn to hold her hand.