Eve's POV

"A panic attack?" Carl's eyebrows furrowed.

I nodded, tearing the candy bar in half and giving him half of the sugary treat.

Professor Lupin was right. Chocolate makes you feel better.

"You know what a panic attack is, kid?" Daryl took the piece of chocolate I broke off from mine and tossed it in his mouth, bumping my shoulder with his as he pulled his knee up to rest his arm over it.

Carl's face scrunched. "Sort of. My dad said it was like being scared all the time for no reason."

My eyebrows knit before I opened my mouth and at the same time Daryl and I both said, "Not exactly."

We looked at each other.

"That's more like an anxiety disorder. A panic attack is like..." I bit my lips, thinking how best to explain this in a way he can understand.

"Ah, it's like that moment when you first see a walker. When your mind starts racing and you get scared. Only you can't stop it."

"You can't?" His eyebrows dipped down in confusion, glancing between me and Daryl. "But Daryl did."

I shook my head. "You can't stop it. You just have to wait for it to pass."

His face fell. "You can't do anything?"

I gave him a tight smile. "You can help the symptoms. They're fast though, even if it feels like it'll go on forever. They only last 10-15 minutes at most."

"Why?" Part of me is glad he's so curious, and part of me doesn't wanna talk about this anymore. But I can't leave it as is, not when a 10 year old is looking at me so concerned.

"Do you know what a flight or fight response is?"

He nodded, brown bangs shaking on his forehead. "It's that thing that tells you to run when you're scared."

"Or fight when yer in trouble." Daryl added, chewing the inside of his lip as he listens, and subtly shifted a little closer to me. I think he can tell I'm not too keen on talking about this so soon after an attack. I'm not shaky anymore but it's still just a bit too soon for comfort.

I nodded, grateful this kid's a bright one so I don't have to be too… specific with the detail. "The flight or fight response tells your body when to defend yourself. A panic attack is it triggering when there's no real danger."

"No real danger?"

I hummed, "Like when you remember something that really scared you."

"Or if you have a nightmare...?"

I nodded. "There's also things called triggers, like if you see something that reminds you of something scary that happened. Or it could be just thinking about it too much, or dwelling on things. Sometimes you might not even know what the trigger was."

"Wait, does that mean it can happen any time?" His eyes widened in alarm.

"For some people, yes. But not everyone."

"What about you?" He shuffled, gripping the end of his shirt; which I don't think he even realizes he's doing. "Are yours random?"

I shook my head, chewing my lip. My mouth dried out and I swallowed, glancing down for a second, then at Daryl. "Mine aren't like that."

"Then… why do you have panic attacks?"

I never thought I'd have to have this conversation without having been the one to bring it up myself.

How do I even explain to a kid surviving the fall of humanity that not everyone had a family growing up. Or that not everyone was loved as a kid? Or that some adults don't…see kids...as kids.

How am I supposed to...? What do I say?

I looked at Daryl again, almost begging with my eyes for help. And his face said it all. He doesn't have a clue either. Despite both of us being intimately familiar with this topic. I've never had to explain this to anyone accept a select few over my entire life, much less a kid.

Carl sat quietly, waiting for an answer but no matter how many times my mouth moved, nothing came out.

No matter how many times I licked my lips, trying to think of something, I just… couldn't find the words. I don't use those often anyway.

Maybe there just isn't a good way to explain this—

"Sometimes people get hurt."

My eyebrows jumped along with the rest of me (Daryl too; though he'll never admit it) as I whipped my eyes towards Carol.

I'm gonna be honest, I totally forgot she was still awake, even though she's sitting up.

Carl turned around in his spot between my knees. I think he's afraid to move away from me. He might be thinking if he moves away it'll happen again. Or maybe he doesn't fully believe I'm ok yet.

God this must be scary for him. And so confusing.

I never wanted him to see this. He has enough to deal with, growing up surrounded by all of this.

But I suppose, it's better this way. He's gonna need to know this stuff eventually. Most people have a panic attack at least once or twice in their life and with our daily stress and anxiety we all face now, it's better he knows it can happen.

"When they get hurt, it becomes trauma. Like a scar you can't see."

"Like a mental scar?" Carl asked. See, smart as a whip.

"Exactly that." Carol nodded.

"And when something happens that reminds them of when they got it, it causes a panic attack." It sounds…like she's done this before…

Ed and Sophia flashed across my mind and my jaw clenched; my shoulders tensing at just the thought of what horrors Carol could have possibly had to explain to her child.

It's one thing to live that stuff. It's another to have to explain to a little girl why her dad uses her mom like a punching bag.

"Why?" Carl turned back to me.

I licked my lips, pushing the flame wanting to rise to my fists back into the pit it simmers in. "You know how you can remember some things from years ago and it feels like you're actually there?"

Carl thought for a second, before he nodded; presumably finding a memory just like that.

"That's what you call a vivid memory. And traumatic experiences create vivid memories, because your mind is really good at remembering stuff that hurt, so you can avoid it in the future. It has to work at remembering the good stuff, which is why it's more important to focus on the good stuff so you can remember it just as well."

"That's stupid. Why doesn't it just remember the happy stuff?"

Daryl snorted beside me as I smiled. "I know right?"

"I guess it's just tryna let us off the hook for making ourselves remember bad stuff so we know what to do when it happens the next time."

Carl's mouth made an 'O'. And I glanced at Carol and T-Dog whose eyebrows were raised a little, impressed.

"I never thought about that before." T-Dog ran a hand over his bald head.

"Me neither." Daryl mumbled, picking at his fingernails in his lap.

I didn't notice I'd been observing him until Carl shifted again to face me more; his back brushing my knee.

"It's still stupid."

A sudden chuckle broke the atmosphere, and even more surprising, it was my own.

The other adults finding subdued laughs of their own. Even Daryl chuckled under his breath for a second.

"Don't worry, Eve. If you have another panic attack, I'll help you."

The corners of my lips pulled up and it's his own fault that I leaned forward and crushed him in a bear hug. How is this kid so amazing?

Why are kids such angels? (I will probably regret saying that later when he decides to pull something again, but for now, it stands.)

Carl hugged me back, after wiggling his head free of suffocation by my arm and I saw Carol smile warmly and sadly, looking down before she laid down again.

"I'll take watch, T." I pulled back from Carl, or tried at least, but he's not done yet, so I let my arms rest around him while he continued to hug me.

"Sure you don't wanna catch a few more Z's?"

I nodded. He's been on watch since I went to sleep I think. And it'll be dawn in a few hours at most.

"Ok," he shrugged, something about it unconvinced but still went to lay down.

"You sure?" Daryl spoke lowly, nudging my shoulder with his.

I met his eyes, nodding.

There's no way I'm gonna be able to sleep after this. So might as well let everyone else rest.

My eyes turned to the window, from the floor the starry deep purplish sky is in almost perfect view. If the window wasn't so white and fogged around the edges; in need of a good scrub, just like everything else now.

I'd probably be able to get a better view if I went downstairs. The door's cleaner.

I think I would've gone outside already — made a break for it the moment I woke up — if Daryl hadn't been right there.

Speaking of which, why was he awake?

Daryl sighed, interrupting my thoughts, and made himself comfortable next to me.

I raised an eyebrow. He gave me a stubborn look.

'I ain't goin' to sleep' is written all over him like a 5 year old got ahold of a Sharpie.

Carl let go of me finally but as soon as I didn't have to take more than a second to know he's not going back to bed any time soon either.

I sighed and dug into my pocket.

A sharp gasp popped my lips apart like I'd stabbed my finger.

"What?" Carl jumped.

I smacked every pocket I have until I smacked one and relaxed, pulling what nearly gave me a heart attack out of my pocket.

"Thought I lost my cards." I took the deck that's been surprisingly useful out of their pouch.

"BlackJack?" You sound unusually keen to play, Daryl. You haven't spent much of your life 'playing', have you?

That is a crying shame and now I'm making it a personal mission to get you to play more; loosen up a little when our lives aren't in immediate danger.

I was about to nod before Carl asked, "What's Blackjack?"

I paused. We both looked at each other for a long second, having a mental conversation and I finally pressed my lips into a tight line.

Normally I wouldn't have a problem with teaching him how to play BlackJack, it's just… his parents are right there. And I don't know how they feel about gambling and I'm not comfortable finding out and I don't have the best experience with gambling around kids and—

Daryl finally sighed; almost rolling his eyes but giving in. "Nothin'. You know how to play Go Fish?"

Daryl leaned forward, clearing a space in the center of the three of us.

Carl lit up like a cracked glow-stick. "We played in class a lot and I never lost."

A wicked smile came to my face as I shuffled, throwing in a little extra flare. "First time for everything, Kiddo."

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