There are holes everywhere. They ruin the wholeness of things and are on the whole not a good thing. People can create these holes, but they can just as easily be repaired. The important thing is to try and not give up hope.

Daryl makes it back much sooner than expected, dragging a deer, with several squirrels hanging from his belt. We decide to hold off eating until we can cook some of the fresh meat up. I offer to help Daryl skin some of the squirrels, to which he chuckles, "Ever skinned a critter 'fore girly?"

Um, well you see. I'm hungry, and I figure, I can't be that bad... I hadn't exactly had to before, but I figured I needed to know, it's a survival skill.

"Sure," I shrug

Daryl narrows his eyes slightly, considering things for a moment. Finally he pops an eyebrow up and tosses me a squirrel, "Try not to hurt yourself."

I stand a little taller, proud that I managed to convince Daryl Dixon, squirrel king, to let me skin a squirrel.

I look at the squirrel in my hands, brown gray fur, dead beady eyes, warm body growing colder by the second, limp, flimsy body sagging in my grasp.

Cute, little squirrel...

Nice squirrel dinner...

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into.

I swallow hard, and try not to let my discomfort show. I follow Daryl outside and I watch him as he cuts into his own squirrel. He makes a cut near the base of the tail on the belly side, I pull out my knife and mimic him, trying not to look over and make it obvious I'm just copying what he does. I keep my head angled at the squirrel and watch Daryl out of the corner of my eye. He makes more cuts around its hind leg. He grabs the tail of the squirrel in one hand, he uses his other hand, working his fingers under the skin of the squirrel, trying to separate the meat of the squirrel from the skin. My eyes go to my own squirrel, I copy the cuts he made, careful not to cut too deep. I gulp as I work my fingers under the skin of the squirrel, the fleshy feel of the meat under my fingers is uncomfortable. Quit being so squeamish! Honestly! I manage to work the skin away and I flit my eyes over to Daryl for the next step.

He kicks leaves away from the ground and lays the squirrel, belly up on the ground. He places his heel near the base of the squirrel's tail. He pulls the squirrel by it's hind legs, and in one swift motion the skin is ripped off. He works the skin off of it's front legs, and then continues to pull up until he's at the squirrel's neck. I quickly copy, though my hands are slightly bloodier than his. In a final step Daryl takes his knife and cuts off the head of the squirrel, along with it's arms and feet. I do the same. I hold my now skinned squirrel up and show Daryl. It could... be worse...

Daryl chuckles, "Not bad for a first time."

I frown, was I that obvious?

"I saw the way you was lookin' at that squirrel," he says in answer and he moves on to his next squirrel, "You wanna keep helpin' or you done?"

I'm done. Oh dear God yes, please. Done. So, so done.

"I can help if you need it," I offer shyly

Daryl grumbles under his breath, clears his throat, then speaks up, "Nah, run along, I've got this."

"Ok," I mumble, I set my squirrel beside him and go inside.

"So?" Carl walks over to me as I shut the door behind me.

I laugh vaguely and shake my head, "I think it's best we leave the skinning to Daryl." Carl laughs and we walk back into the kitchen- living room area. We each grab a pecan even though Michonne gives us a scolding look. The taste of the pecan is both sweet and salty, eating it is like eating the pudding, that feeling of satisfaction as you eat it.

We sit around the table until Daryl comes in with the skinned and gutted squirrels, he says he's hung the deer up and he'll take care of that later. Michonne roasts the squirrels and soon we're ready to eat. By now the sun has passed it's peak in the sky and my stomach is making noises. We split up the squirrel and pecans evenly and then we try sitting down like real people at the table. Except for Daryl, he leans against the wall, plate in one hand fork in the other, doing as Daryl does.

The squirrel is good, especially now that it's not raw and squishy. Carl inhales his squirrel, good Lord that boy can eat. He's chowing down on the last of his pecans, just as I'm finishing my squirrel.

"You gonna eat that?" Carl mumbles, his mouth full of pecans, eyeing my own pecans.

I give him a look that says 'stop right there Grimes, them's my pecans'. Carl rolls his eyes at me, but doesn't press further. After a moment I tighten my lips and slide a pecan in his direction. He gives me a look that says 'I win' and then tosses the candied pecan into his mouth, to which I shake my head and laugh.

"Do we have any idea if the showers here are working?" Michonne asks all of us

I shrug, Carl shrugs, Rick shrugs, Daryl walks over to the sink, flips on the faucet, water comes dribbling out.

"Yup," he says, "Probably hooked up to a well, water not be hot but it's better than nothin'."

"I'd like to clean my jacket if that's not a problem," I speak up, my voice sounds timid and nervous. Come on Sam, what's the worst they're gonna say? No?

"Yeah, that'd be ok," Rick nods

"So we all get to shower?" Carl asks enthusiastically, "With like running water?"

Rick chuckles, nodding "Yeah, we all get to shower." his son's excitement is obviously pleasing for him. Carl's still a little off with his dad, I think Carl's taking what his dad did to protect him a little hard.

So after everyone finishes eating, I grab my jacket and Carl is forced to wait before he can shower. The adults get to go first, but they've made a point thatus showering together is not an option. Which I think both of us are ok with, because while we're close to being back to what we used to, there's still some discomfort, and we weren't even at that point before everything happened.

I find some soap and one of those old laundry scrub boards, so I fill up a bucket with water and I head outside, Carl follows me because he hasn't anything better to do. I roll up the sleeves of my denim shirt and I soak my jacket and pour some of the soap into the water, I stir it around with my jacket and then I scrub my jacket against the board.

"Not as good as a Maytag, huh?" Carl comments

I glare at him, there's a smirk on his face, so I know he's teasing, but still. I splash water towards him and he couldn't exactly deflect it, his nose crinkles up and he squints his eyes shut. I laugh and he glares at me. I stick out my tongue at him and he rolls his eyes. I continue scrubbing until the grass and dirt stains are gone and I've gotten rid of as much blood as I can.

I lift it up for Carl to see, "That look better?" I ask

His voice catches in his throat for a moment and his eyes stray to the left shoulder of the jacket, the blood may be gone, but the hole still remains. He catches my worried looks and shakes head, "Oh yeah, looks great." but there isn't power to back up his words.

I smile like I believe him, "Awesome! Let's head back in then, it's starting to get chilly. But first, I'll hang this up to dry." there's actually a clothes line here, so, I pin up my jacket and then we head back inside. I look at him and grab his hand, lacing my fingers through his. He gives me a real smile, obviously pleased at my gesture of affection.

He leans towards me like he's about to kiss my cheek, but before I can stop myself, my body flinches and Carl pulls away.

"Sorry," I mumble

"'S fine." Carl looks at the ground

I want to tell him that it's not, but we'll just go in circles and it'll be pointless, "Ok," I kick the leaves as we walk.

Something twists inside me, and suddenly I feel the need to speak out. My feet freeze and I turn to him, "We can't do this Carl."

His eyes widen quickly in alarm, "Do what?"

"Pretend things are ok and lie to each other. It's not worth it, it's doing more bad than good. I see the truth, and I know you do too. All it does is create holes, holes that are hard to patch. I don't want that. So please, just... be honest." I blink up at him, scared I didn't say the right words

He bites his tongue and nods at me, "Ok."

Man, does he have a way with words.

We go back into the house and just chill, Daryl and Michonne have already taken their showers and are back in the living room. I must admit it's strange to see Daryl Dixon without greasy hair and have a certain odor about him.

"Your dad's in the shower, he should be out soon," Michonne tells Carl. Carl nods, but it's like he doesn't really care.

I gnaw on my bottom lip, then I look at Carl, "Hey let's go check out that bookshelf we saw, maybe, if you're good I'll read to ya later." I wink at him, with a teasing tone in my voice. He grins and bumps me with his hip, a little on the hard side, and I'm not prepared, so it sends me stumbling a couple inches.

"Careful," Carl's eyebrow lift playfully, and I shove him back with my hip harder. I send him stumbling a good foot and I let out a real laugh. Carl glares at me and starts to move towards me when Daryl clears his throat. And both of us duck our heads and walk back to the room we're staying in.

Carl closes the door and I lean up and sneak a peck on his cheek. For a moment my throat closes up and my stomach tenses up and I'm scared I'm gonna puke, but it passes when I see the look on Carl's face. Then my cheeks are red and it's hard to look at him. But I manage and then I know that yes, we can patch the holes.