In the morning, Carl rushed out of his tent as soon as it was dawn to go and get the water. When he got to the pump, he wiped his red, eyes that were grainy with exhaustion and sniffled as he filled the pail. He missed his Mom and Judith had kept the both of them up all night. Nothing made her stop crying – no matter whatever they did until his Dad had decided it was croup and given her some baby medicine. After that, she'd quietened down and they could some sleep. Or rather his Dad did but Carl couldn't. Lay there looking up at the tent ceiling, imaging every tread and rustle outside to be a Walker although they hadn't had any on their mountain camp yet. It was too cold for them up here, apparently and there was still plenty of rich pickings in the towns below. Besides, everyone knew you'd hear them coming at you mostly long before you saw them because of the inhuman moans and growls they always made.

But he still couldn't help being scared. He could only think of escape. Freeing himself from the burden of responsibility.

It wasn't that he hadn't damn near fallen in love with his cute baby sister , just like Daryl who called her 'Littl' Asskicker' had and it was apt name. She could stubbornly keep crying for hours. But that he just wanted to be a kid again and do kid stuff and not have to worry about things.

He didn't want to be a grown-gp when he hadn't even finished being a kid.

Feeling sorry for himself and hating himself for it, he wiped the tears from his eyes and bent to pick up the bucket that was now full of water. So he and his Dad could have a wash.

Dawn had barely touched the sky with her rosy fingers when he felt someone slip a hard, muscular arm around his shoulders. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

'Hey, kid.' Of course it had to be one of the Dixons – only they could creep up behind him as stealthily as a big cat. No-one else would be crazy enough to get up this early either.

He looked up at Daryl and went red to think that he saw his tears. He'd think he was a pussy for sure and then they wouldn't let him go hunting with them. He couldn't bear the thought of that – wanted Daryl to respect him and not treat him like a baby.

But instead of scolding him for crying, the younger Dixon looked at him with concern. 'Ya missin' ya Mama?'

'No!'

Daryl let him go and sighed. Moved to crounch down in front of him, holding his gaze. 'Ya know it's OK...My Mama died too when I was 8.'

Carl stared at him because the brothers rarely volunteered information about their past. But it was rumoured that Daddy Dixon had not been a good man.

'I'm sorry.' The boy replied automatically and politely.

'I heard these fire-engine sirens and suddenly my friends got on their bikes and started racing towards them. I didn't – didn't have no bike.'

Carl stared.

'We was dirt poor.' Daryl explained and laughed uneasily. 'Anyway, by the time I got there, I saw my house had been on fire and they were jus' puttin' it out. My Mom was inside.' He paused and looked away. 'She liked her cheap wine and smokes, did our Mama.'

'Well, at least ya didn't have to kill her after she was already dead!' Carl was suddenly furious and shoved the man away before he ran off. Not even looking back behind him.

'Carl!' Daryl called after him. He said something else but by then the boy was out of earshot.

Later on, when he had to deal with his Dad, Carl felt sorry for taking it out on Daryl, he liked him, he really did. He just couldn't stand people pretending that they knew what it was like. After all, his mother shouldn't have died – if the world hadn't gone to hell and the hospitals were still working.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair!

…

'Ya right. There's somethin' wrong with that boy and it ain't jus' the death of his Mama.' Daryl admitted to his brother when they were back in their tent that night.

'Told ya!' Merle was infuriatingly smug and Daryl reached around to not so playfully punch him.

'I think it's all too much for him, lookin' after his Dad and his littl' sister. Rick ain't still right – can see it in his eyes. Kid needs a break. We can teach him how to track properly,

'I don't mind as long as he don't scare away the food.'

'Fine. Night.'

'Night.'

Meanwhile, back in the Grimes family tent, Rick pulled his son closer to him. Carol had been considerate enough to offer to take Judith for the night and look after her. Leaving him some time to concentrate on his other child.

'Ya OK, son?' Rick ran his fingers gently through his boy's hair.

Carl froze. 'Fine.'

'I'm sorry about everythin' – I'm sorry the way things turned out. Mom dyin'...Ya havin' to step up an' all...and with me not bein' not myself...'

His son shrugged his hand off. 'It's fine, Dad.'

'I don't want ya to go huntin' with Daryl and his brother anymore. Can be dangerous...Not that I don't trust Daryl to take care of ya but I can't risk losin' ya as well.'

His son didn't answer but started to snore quietly. Rick sighed and turned on his side. When he heard him snoring, Carl's eyes snapped open.

He'd only been pretending. Hoping it wouldn't happen tonight.

He slept only about 2 hours the night before.

But at least it didn't happen.

The next two nights it did because Carol offered to take Judith again because she was enjoying having her so much.

...

'Come on, ya gotta eat, son.' Rick lifted a spoonful of porridge to his son's mouth, trying to feed him like he was a baby again. Carol - everybody's mother - bustled around, looking worried.

'No! Ain't hungry!' Carl jerked his head away, feeling embarrassed.

'You've lost too much weight as it is! Lose any more and you'll disappear, young man!' She added her exhortations to his father's.

'Yeah, she's right.' Maggie joined in. 'Ya'll get sick if ya don't eat! Don't do it to ya Dad!'

That got him. 'Why don't ya'll jus' leave me alone! Ain't none of ya business what I eat!' He screamed at them in fury and kicked the steaming bowl over as he stormed away towards the woods.

'Carl! Ya come back here and clear that up!' Rick roared after him but made no move to get up and chase after him.

Rick shook his head in despair. 'I don't know why he's actin' like this... I mean I can only keep givin' him so much slack because of what happened to Lori for so long. We're all grievin' her and we need to all pull together if we got a chance in hell of gettin' through this.'

Carl kept running and running until he could hardly breathe and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Trying to outrun his feelings of rage and helplessness. His Dad had been particularly bad last night and he had to stay up all night to 'look after him'. After a while, he'd fallen asleep but Carl couldn't – not for a long time.

It was true, he was losing weight – the nights of exhaustion and not eating...although he sometimes managed to snatch a couple of hours of uneasy doze here and there. If he hadn't been wearing his belt and hitched up his pants even tighter by cutting a second hole in it, they would have fallen off his shrunken hips.

Yet the thought of food made him nauseous – he had the sick suspicion that deep in the back of his mind, he didn't think he deserved to eat. Because he was bad, bad, BAD! No matter how much his father praised him and leaned on him. It didn't matter if everyone else used to think he was great, they couldn't see into his soul. How filthy and disgusting he was.

'Carl?' A voice called behind him. He had stopped and buried his face against a tree, shuddering. He didn't answer even though he recognised the voice, willing its owner away.

A heavy hand clamped on his shoulder.

'Don't touch me!' He snarled, not recognising himself any more. Did he really snarl?

He was relieved to feel the other person comply and the hand was removed.

'What's wrong, son?' Now the man was breathing hotly on the back of his neck. 'Ya can tell Uncle Merle. It's ya Daddy, ain't it?' The older's Dixon's tone was unusually gentle, crooning in fact. Carl knew he would tell him if he carried on talking to him in that sugary voice. Now he sounded like Daryl.

'Go away.' He muttered sullenly without any real conviction. Because one way or another, he wanted it to end.

He simply couldn't take any more. More than that, he had his sister to think of.

…

'Fuckin' asshole!' He screamed and smashed his fists into the tree so hard again and again that the bark splintered and his blood ran. 'I hate you! I fuckin' wish you'd died instead and not her!'

Somehow it made him feel better like now his pain was on the outside of him and it was visible in this body fluid running out of him. Now he could see it. Now he was being completely honest and not pretending just to keep the group together.

'Now, now.' He felt the man gently pull him away from the tree in a bear hug and whisper, his hot breath tickling his ear. 'I know ya angry but there ain't no need for that.'

'Let me go!' But he struggled in vain. The man was like a tower of steel, invulnerable. Relentless like a machine.

'Sh...Ain't gonna hurt ya none. Jus' calm the fuck down and then I'll let ya go.'

Carl forced himself to go limp and willed his heart thudding with panic to slow but the truth was, he wasn't afraid of this crude, brutal man. He knew he could be brutal.

He stopped struggling and the elder Dixon let him go. His mouth set in a grim line and looking down at him with strange expression.

No, this man didn't scare him.

He was more afraid of the gentle caresses and soft voice of his father whispering to him in the dark.