It felt like miles that Riley had walked, placing one foot in front of the other for endless amounts of time. The sun, now rising to its highest point in the summer day shone brightly, attacking Riley's fair and bloodied skin in the heat of the afternoon. 

Her tears had stopped. Her face was dry, sunbaked to be truthful, and now as a result of her sobs and cries there were clean streaks upon her cheeks where her tears had cleared away the dirt and blood. The rest of her body though, was insanely messy. Sweat was soaking through her clothes, the faint scent of gasoline lingered on her body like perfume, and her soft skin was hidden under a filthy mask of grime. In terms of health, she was fine, in a sense at least. She had not undergone any physical injuries beside minor scrapes and bruises, she was practically in perfect condition compared to the man next to her. Rick was limping heavily, his breaths jagged and loud, like each step he took sent a wave of excruciating pain traveling up his body. His arm was draped over Riley's shoulders as the girl tried her best in her out-of-mind state to support him as they wandered for the great distance they had walked. 

There was, of course, another person to their little party, and only one other person at all. Carl was a few yards ahead of them, close enough that it was easy for Rick to keep an eye on the boy and not need to worry of him sauntering off and getting lost, although it was quite clear that the man was worried in some sort of way. He tried multiple times to call after his son, tell him to slow down, to wait for the two who lugged behind him. Each time he did so, Riley would glance up slightly to see if Carl ever made any move to pause in his track. He never did.

So it was that eventually Rick put forth a great amount of his energy to yell at Carl to stop, and finally he obliged. Rick picked up his pace- or at least attempted to-, and Riley followed along. She was in no place of mind to try and stop either from doing anything, all she could do was what they did. The images of the morning were tearing through her brain like an overwhelming storm that shattered any bit of inner peace she had left. In truth, it wasn't just the sight of the two barbaric and gruesome deaths she'd been forced to watch, or the pressuring feeling of guilt she experienced like sickly waves that told her she could've prevented both. It was also the fact that she had killed someone. Riley knew the Governor was a terrible person, he was the worst she'd ever known, but that factor had slipped her mind completely when she replayed the scene of his death by her hand. She knew people who could be considered murderers, she loved them, she cared for them, she slept under the same roof they had. But none of them ever told her how the action stripped a layer of humanity from your soul, leaving you like an exposed nerve in the open. She didn't feel like herself, the Riley that Riley was would never, ever, kill someone. Never even think about it. But there she was, forcing herself to dwell over the simmering pot of self reflection, to think about what she had done. She had no energy left to convince herself she did what was right anymore.

Both Riley and Rick had approached Carl, who stood in the middle of a dusty and never ending road. The girl let her body dip a little to let the Grimes' arm fall free from her shoulders and instead place his hand on his son's.

"Hey, we're gonna be..." Rick trailed off, his voice dying out almost as soon as it appeared when Carl turned around, facing his father with a blinding glare at the contact. 

Riley shrunk back a little at the sight, not wanting to indulge herself in the steaming scene of conflict between father and son, much preferring to keep to herself in her own little world of chaos.

Carl shook himself free of the hand on his shoulder, stalking away from the pair behind him.

"Come on." Riley said quietly, her voice achingly croaking as an aftereffect of the wretched screams that broke through her throat earlier and of not speaking for hours now. 

She made a small second of eye contact with Rick as she slipped herself under his arm again, letting him know that he wasn't facing cold shoulders from both of the only two people he was left with. As hard as it was to try and empathize with anyone at the moment, the girl knew how burdensome it must've felt to lose the home you fought for and the people it housed as well, the people you were supposed to be in charge of, even after discarding the label. 

They kept walking, Riley and Rick in the back and Carl leading them. All the way down that same road until they came upon a broken down restaurant, the building radiating an air of abandonment. Carl made for it, Rick following him and therefor Riley as well. The trio clambered up the few steps and onto the porch landing, standing right in front of the door. Once Riley and Rick had reached the designated area, the girl had noticed the way Carl already stood in position with his gun raised toward the door, waiting impatiently for his companions to join him.

"You two wait outside, okay?" Rick said, beginning to retrieve his own firearm from his waist band. "Keep watch."

Riley, having lost her own weapon of choice during the abominable scene of Meg's death, had a severe underhand compared to the two Grimes she was with. The only thing she had on her was her pocketknife and a regular knife, whose blade was helpfully long and sharp, but not enough to really defend herself in case she truly had to. She wasn't left with much of a choice though, and she wasn't in a position to complain either. She was lucky to even be alive.

"You keep watch. You can barely stand, I'm not gonna let you go in there alone." Carl scoffed, his eyes showering his father with a scowl of annoyance and attempted dominance.

Riley's eyes flickered between the two, grip falling to the handle of her larger knife incase Carl's proposition proved to be helpful and the two of them did venture inside the restaurant with Rick. 

"Excuse me?" Rick's gruff voice raised as he turned around slightly.

"We've done this before, I'm gonna help you clear it. You should just let me do it myself." Carl raised his gun again, facing forward and ignoring his father's intense stare.

"We should all go inside." The sharp sound of Riley's knife being drawn from its sheath tingled against her ear, eyes looking towards Rick for confirmation whilst brushing off the feel of Carl's glare on the side of her face. "It's the safest option."

Rick sighed, turning toward the door with his gun raised. "Let's go."

Rick kicked the door open after twisting the handle, striding in with caution as the two kids followed after him. All three branched out in different directions, the older Grimes filing himself into the back area while the two younger ones moved about the section where it appeared meals were served to customers of the small restaurant.

Riley's eyes scanned the walls, her hand clutching her knife up and at the ready incase an attacker approached, although all seemed clear for the moment. She walked over to a display of cabinets, falling to her knees as she opened one. It creaked loudly, quite obviously not used to its hinges being put to work in quite some time. After pausing a second to be sure the sound didn't draw any unwanted attention, she looked inside. Then would've been a great moment to have a flashlight, and Riley wished she could have Lucas by her side to randomly pull one out of his pocket. Upon the thought, the girl felt a strange feeling wash over her. She wondered if he was okay, if he survived and made it onto the bus. Lucas wasn't weak, he'd survived with his father amongst walkers and remorseless humans for nearly a year before coming across the prison and being accepted in. Riley felt confident he'd pull through out on the roads, but her stomach twisted with the fear that he might've been taken down by one of the Governor's men before he even got the chance to make it out of the anarchic arena alive. She prayed silently that he had.

"Find anything?" Someone asked from behind her.

The sudden sound made Riley jump, her knife instantly getting squeezed tighter in her palm upon the unforeseen sentence. Collecting her composure quickly, Riley shook her head, swallowing.

"No, did you?"

Carl shook his head as well. "Everything's been raided already. But I only covered a few rooms so far, you should hurry up. Sitting here isn't going to do anything."

"Yeah, thanks for the advice." Riley muttered, standing up and walking to another part of the room. "Asshole."

Once clearing the room she was in completely, the Endicott stepped into an open and much larger space, a huge collection of chairs piling up to create a wall towards the back of it. Behind her, she could hear Rick stumble into the room as well, Carl by his side. All three stood, staring through the wall of furniture and at the walker who growled lifelessly yet hungrily from behind its imprisonment. Located at the very back wall, right past the walker, there was a lining of jars, all of which containing food in them.

"That might be all that's left." Rick assumed, gesturing toward the bottles of food. He walked unsteadily closer to the confined creature and the barricade it stood behind. 

Carl approached with his gun raised. "I can get it from here."

"No." Rick snapped, his voice standing loudly clear. "No, it's weak. I'll draw it out."

He returned his gun to his belt, gathering an axe into his hands instead. "Stay back, both of you."

Grasping the leg of one of the chairs, Rick tugged at it forcefully, creating a pounding noise as the furniture came crashing down. Jumping back, Rick raised his axe, steadying himself as he looked into the eyes of the walker. Riley raised her knife, stepping back as to make sure she was in the clear zone of any attacking bound to happen on either end.

Rick grunted, swinging his axe through the air until it plunged itself into the rotten skull of the walker's head. Despite the action, the growling and swiping of the creature did not cease, instead, it only grew more desperate to sink its teeth into the flesh of one of the three options in front of it. Quite clearly, either Rick didn't possess enough strength at the moment to kill the walker, or the walker was much more powerful than anticipated.

Carl raised his gun, aligning it with the walker's head.

"Damn it!" Rick yelled, fighting even harder to maintain his position standing. He turned his head, glancing at his son holding the weapon up. "Don't-"

A single, lone, gunshot cracked the air with a deafening blow. The closed off area of the room caused the sound to echo around, passing through Riley's ear and out the other. Flinching, the girl looked at the walker, whose body fell to the floor with a thud.

"I said not to!" Rick's voice was menacingly loud as he turned toward Carl, disappointment and anger flashing across his face.

"You couldn't do it with the axe!" Carl yelled back. 

"I had it. Every bullet counts, what if you needed that one later? See what you can find. Then let's move on." Rick dropped the conversation as soon as he got his lecture out, not wanting to argue anymore than he had to with his son. He bent down, tugging the blade out of the walker's head and departing from the room.

Riley swallowed uncomfortably, making a move for the back of the room and climbing up onto the counter of one side of the wall and searching the top cabinets. A row of bottles, majority containing honey and a few others rice stood alone there. She stuffed a couple of the bottles into the pockets of her jeans, taking the rest into her arms.

"Don't fall, we don't need another person to take care of." Carl's instructively harsh tone called out to her from his position on the floor.

"We?" Riley asked, cocking her head as she adjusted the containers in her hold. "Because it seemed like I was the only one helping your dad while you were off sulking back there."

Carl scoffed, the faint sound tickling Riley's ears. "Anything up there?"

"Yeah, some. Put these in your bag." Riley turned around, tossing a few bottles of honey down to the boy below her.

Carl glanced up just a second too late, the first one hitting him in the head and knocking his hat off, only giving him time to reach for the second before it collided with the ground.

Riley stifled a laugh, watching as he rubbed his head and bent down to pick up his hat, grumbling under his breath as he did so.

"I think you dropped something."

"Shut it."

Riley shook her head, a small grin on her face as she began to climb down, hopping to the floor and putting the canisters of honey and rice into a bag Carl had scavenged from somewhere in the restaurant.

"Kitchen wasn't empty after all," Rick's hoarse voice came from the other end of the room. He walked up to a small table in the middle of the room, holding a bag carrying a few containers of food and a couple bottles of water. "My haul, you guys?"

Carl and Riley stepped up, the girl leaning her elbow against the tabletop as she compared their findings to Rick's. One outweighed the other noticeably.

"We win."

White, large, dirty, spacious, a little too quiet. That was the basic image of every house lining the street the trio now walked through. It was also the exact description of the house Rick picked for the three of them to settle down in for the night, and what was most likely the next few days.

Barging through the door with his gun raised, Rick ran through the threshold of the house quickly before stepping more inside and allowing the two kids following him to do the same. Carl had his own gun held up, in position and ready to fire in a heartbeat. Riley's knife was enclosed in her grip, but there was really no reason for her to keep it up, as the house seemed completely empty. She readjusted the bag full of food and water in her opposite hand. She'd offered to hold it for the group before they set off again, not wanting to add any more weight than necessary to Rick's travels, and also just because she felt a desperate urge to prove herself useful and helpful to their little faction.

The group separated, splintering off to explore different areas of the house just as they had with the restaurant, except this time Riley glued herself a little closer to Rick, as this territory was much more dark and confined, making an escape a little more difficult than the previous open area. 

"Carl." Rick hissed quietly once noticing his son was edging a little too close to the boundary he shouldn't cross.

"I got it." Carl's head turned, his voice searingly hot. "All the doors down here are open."

"Just stop!" Rick whisper-yelled with agitation flooding his body.

Carl didn't turn around, but he did stop dead in his tracks. He dropped his arms, gun resting uselessly at his sides. Riley watched him carefully, a little nervous as to what the boy's reaction would be.

Turning in a one-eighty, Carl slammed his fist against the wall, raining dust from the ceilings.

"Hey, asshole!" He screamed, pounding on the wall again. "Hey, shitface! Hey-"

"Watch your mouth!" Rick snarled, his own voice coming from the top of his lungs.

Riley glanced between them with an expression of uneasiness, not quite sure how to react to either. She opted to just standing there, quite awkwardly at that, as she rubbed her fingers together nervously. For some unspoken reason, Carl was holding a significantly harsh grudge against his father, beating against him despite his weakened state. It was also noticeable that Rick didn't quite know how to react, his patience running thin at the irresponsible and reckless decisions his only son acted out with.

"Are you kidding me?" Carl spat. "If there's one of them down there, they would've come out."

Rick said nothing, staring at the boy in the sheriff's hat with a twitching glance. With no motive to continue the short lived argument, Carl walked away, going upstairs to avoid anymore interaction with the man.

Rick's feet shuffled, turning around to face Riley, who'd stayed quiet throughout the entire thing.

"Just give him a minute," She said quietly, hoping to add any means of comfort she could offer. "He'll come around."

Rick nodded, glance casting downwards. Riley knew the man probably couldn't care less for her words, as it was obvious he knew of the treatment she received from Carl's end, and how that seemed to be a never ending phase as well. The girl only wished Rick didn't have to experience the same thing she had. There was a fine line between a father and a best friend, she hoped that Carl knew that too.

"Come help me clear out the kitchen." Rick said, his voice gruff and low. "We can put the groceries away."

His lips twinged upwards at his joke, and Riley returned the gesture, silently grateful for the change in attitude. She followed the man into the kitchen. It was cute, she decided. Sort of small, but spacious enough. It had a strict white theme and dainty little furniture, sort of aesthetically pleasing compared to the rundown and gorey feel the rest of the world took on.

As Rick searched through the cabinets, Riley laid the bag of supplies on the table, beginning to sort through it. Her hand landed on a cool glass container, and as she realized what it was, a short laugh escaped her lips.

"What?" Rick asked, turning around and standing from his bent position by the floor.

Riley held up a glass containing a rather healthy, green, motif. "He got pickles."

Riley found herself surrounded by four gray walls. Bedroom walls, to be precise. She assumed it was the master bedroom, as it was the largest and most modest room there was on the upstairs level. The sky had fallen, wounded and bleeding its black blood all over the earth's fair grounds like a crescent blanket. The late night was approaching, riding up to the house Riley, Rick, and Carl were all cooped up inside of in attempts at safety against the dangers lurking just outside the walls they hid in. Although it was still evening, the events that had occurred in the earlier areas of the day had drained every last bit of energy from Riley's body, as she had used the little fuel she had left to survive the escape and capture the security and safety for the night, now, she felt completely done. Extremely, extremely, over it.

She sat down on the bed, stomach jumping a little when her body bounced a bit as a result from throwing herself onto the furniture. She wasn't quite used to resilient mattresses, as the prison beds were cheap and thin, a little hard, too. The last comfortable and homey bed she had was at the Greene's farm, and that was so long ago Riley could barely remember what it felt like.

She ran her hand along the comforter, examining the way it felt under her blistering skin. It felt nice, it felt too sweet for the scenario she found herself in. She was appreciative of it though, of this small thing that was granted to her alongside the pressuring weight of guilt and grief she'd experienced within the last ten hours or so.

"My dad's asleep."

Riley looked up, watching as Carl walked slightly into the room, hanging by the doorframe as if afraid he'd be thrown out if he stepped any closer.

"How's he doing?" Riley asked. She'd left the pair about a forty minutes to an hour earlier. After she helped Rick store away all the supplies they'd scavenged for and help both him and Carl clean up the downstairs a little, she left. She wanted to help, to be of as much support and use that she could, but she couldn't stand to be more than that. She barely had time to take care of herself today, nurse the wounds eating her from the inside out, give herself a moment of quiet without worrying of anyone else for just a little bit. 

She had gone upstairs, looking throughout each room and picking up different objects and items she hadn't seen in what felt like decades. She found a little makeup palette, overflowing with colors so vibrant they nearly hurt her eyes. Riley had touched her finger to a dark shade of pink, rubbing it along the skin of her wrist. She didn't quite know what to make of it, so she left it in the room she had found it in, wiping her fingers off on her flannel to rid them of the pigment before moving on. 

"Yeah." Carl said. "He's okay. Just tired, I think. He needs to rest."

Riley nodded, her gaze lowering to the floor. An awkward conversation was bound to come up any second now, and she wasn't sure if she should be the one to summon it. A creepily uncomfortable silence worked its way into the room, and Riley cleared her throat.

"Um, so..." She pulled her sleeves over her hands, trying to find something to do with her body as she glanced at Carl, who seemed to be in his own fit of slight discomfort. She gestured to the bed she sat on. "There's only one..."

"Yeah, I saw." The boy said quickly. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You can take it."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I can sleep on the floor. It's fine." 

"Are you sure?"

Carl just shrugged. "I'll be fine. It's only for a night."

"Considering your dad's shape, I think it'll be a little more than one night." Riley pointed out, standing up. She scratched the corner of her eyebrow with her pink finger, leaning the back of her thighs against the bed.

Carl said nothing. He looked down at the floor, then to the dusty dresser, then to the bed, then to the carpet, and then he repeated the cycle.

"We can share it if you want." Riley offered. Her voice carried a tinge of nervousness to it, the reminder of exactly who she was talking to prodding at her.

"You're okay with that?" Carl asked as his eyes flickered up to meet hers.

"Yeah." Riley shrugged, her scratchy voice barely above a whisper.

Carl hesitated. It was clear he wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with her, which was equitable in a sense. Usually, he wasn't even comfortable being in a room with her for more than five minutes before he snapped. He took a deep breath, eyeing the bed and then the girl who stood perched against it. He weighed the two options he had in his mind, a comfortable bed with the one person he truly couldn't stand to be around, or a cold wooden floor alone in the house. Both had their pros and cons.

"We don't have to, I just thought it'd be more fair." Riley noticed the internal conflict Carl seemed to be battling. 

The Grimes sighed before nodding and giving in. In the end, having a soft mattress throughout the night seemed too appealing after the crippling day he'd wearily dragged himself through. He began walking over. "But we sleep on two different sides of the bed. Got it?"

Riley scoffed. "What, you think I'm going to cuddle you or something?"

Carl flashed her a nasty look, walking over to the right side of the bed. Riley bent down, untying the laces of her Converse before placing the shoes by the foot of the bed, ignoring how one toppled over. She pulled back the edges of the covers and set herself down onto the mattress. It felt strange, nearly wrong, to be laying in such a clean and fresh bed when she was covered from head to toe in sweat and dirt. Her damaged soul felt crushed by the perfections of the clean white sheets, filtered unfairly and mockingly by the sweetness it granted to her.

The sound of Carl climbing into the bed on the opposite side rang in her ears, silence warping the two of them once he had begun to lay still. Riley felt unimaginably uncomfortable, almost nearing the point where she'd started to regret offering the boy to share the bed with her, despite the fact it was most definitely a king sized bed big enough to fit probably even Rick with them as well.

Suddenly, Riley could feel the silence twisting. It was small at first, but then it began to make noise, and the noise grew louder and louder until it felt like it was screaming at her. The weight of her actions that had happened many, long, hours ago beginning to suffocate her. It felt as though the rough material of her bowstring had found itself in her fingers once again, tearing her skin as she pulling it backwards. The picture of the Governor's body freezing maliciously once the arrow lodged itself deep into the flesh of his neck danced around her mind, and no matter how hard she closed her eyes shut, Riley could see the image in taunting color. She felt like she was going insane.

"Can I ask you a question?" She whispered, her voice just loud enough so that the boy in bed beside her could hear her if he was still awake. 

"No." Carl said, his own voice muffled by the sheets surrounding him.

"Cool. Whenever you..." Riley swallowed, trying to find the right words to piece together the sentence she was trying to create. "Whenever you kill someone, do you feel guilty after? Like you- like you made the wrong choice even if it seemed right in the moment?"

The covers on the bed ruffled slightly, and out of the corner of her eye Riley could see Carl turning onto his back.

"No. Usually not. Why, did you...?" He said, the drowsiness his tone previously took on fading into the night.

"I didn't want to, but I had to do it. I saved someone's life, but still... it feels wrong."

Carl stayed quiet for a moment, and Riley wasn't quite sure if he'd fallen asleep, chose to ignore her, or found himself lost, just thinking. She herself didn't feel any better after saying anything of what she just had, almost more confused. If she meant to use her words as an outlet, it didn't seem to be working.

"When I first did it, I felt like a bad person." Carl said quietly. Riley turned to face him. "You were there, that boy, remember? I shot him, because I thought I was saving all of us."

Riley's lips stayed pressed together as she looked at the boy's side profile, the way his eyes were partially opened and staring at the ceiling, his shallow breaths barely raising his chest. 

"I don't know if I did, because I never got to find out. I remember... that night after it happened, I felt so much guilt. Because I saw him start to hand the gun over and surrender. But I killed him anyway." Carl blew out a breath, as if speaking of the whole situation made him relive the moment. 

He swallowed agonizingly, eyes blinking rapidly. "I tried to convince myself for a long time that it was just self defense, but I realized at one point that it wasn't. Not really, anyway."

"Does it ever go away? Feeling like that?" Riley asked. Her fingers wove themselves around the soft material of the blanket covering her, her knees drawing up to her chest. Awaiting his answer felt like having a sword line up with her stomach as she waited for the random minute it would plunge into her flesh. She was afraid she wouldn't like his answer.

"No," Carl sighed. "Eventually, you'll stop thinking about it as much, you'll move on. But every time you do think about it you still feel guilty, and you still wonder if you ever made the right choice."

"Oh." Riley said quietly. Yeah, she didn't really like his answer. But she did appreciate the closure she was granted with. That was a lot more than what she felt like she deserved. She didn't want to tell Carl who she killed or why, but she did know the two situations were pretty incomparable. Regardless, she knew that effect Carl spoke about would probably bite at her similarly.

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like that though," Carl spoke again, noticing the way the girl beside him shrunk visibly. "Sometimes there are situations where you know you had to and that you did the right thing. Then, sometimes you'll feel better about it."

"You mean, like your mom?" Riley questioned.

Carl made a sound halfway between a sigh and a scoff, his face turning stoically hard as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and his pointer finger. 

"I'm sorry," Riley quickly apologized, realizing the insensitivity she just threw out with her last sentence. 

"It's fine. Forget it."

"No, it's not. That was really stupid of me, that was such a dumb thing to say." Riley squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, the reminder to think before speaking coming a little bit too late.

"It's fine. You're right anyway. It was about my mom, knowing that I put her down before she could come back made me feel... better about it, I guess." Carl's voice seemed tense, as if he were holding back a wave of emotion that was straining itself to come out.

"That was... that was really brave on your end. I can't imagine having to put down any of my family. I don't think I'd be able to do it." Riley turned onto her back again, her eyes focusing on a crack in the ceiling. Her mind instantly wandered over to Meg, how she'd died to save her stepdaughter even though there was a chance for herself to live. Riley suddenly felt a warm feeling of gratefulness because of the fact that she didn't have to put Meg down, that she wasn't forced into that position. She'd always been in a state of awe that Carl had the strength in him to bring himself to do that, alongside with the sorry she couldn't help but cast towards him when she thought of it.

"Yeah, I didn't either." Carl remarked. "But when it came down to it, it was more for her than it was for me. I guess that was the only drive I had."  

Riley didn't say anything, instead beginning to ponder upon his words. If Meg had asked her to do it, could she have? She knew Lori never asked Carl to do it, that he'd made the decision on his own, but still. In the moment, all Riley could think of was getting Meg to stand up and keep moving toward the buses or at least getting her bow free to kill all of the walkers- both of which failed. She wondered if she'd had gotten over her insane panic of hysteria, could she have been able to kill Meg so that she wouldn't have suffered the end she'd gotten?  

Riley forced the thought out of her brain. She didn't think she'd be able to handle the idea of being able to give her mother a more peaceful ending when all she did was scream and cry as she watched her get mauled to death. She couldn't handle another ounce of guilt on top of it all.

"Whoever you killed, you probably had your reasons." Carl said quietly. "People don't kill just to kill, at least not most of them. I don't really see you doing that."

"Wasn't exactly on my bucket list." Riley sighed. She turned over again, facing the boy next to her despite the fact he was a few feet away from her. She was a little taken aback when she saw him on his side as well, his own body already turned towards her, head on the pillow and eyes tracing her features.

"It was going to happen eventually. You just got it done now." Carl stated. He pulled the covers up higher, so they'd moved from his shoulders up to his neck, only his head poking out now.

"Yeah." Riley's voice broke half way through the word, trailing off until there was nothing left of it.

She still felt the overwhelming sensation of guilt crumple her to the thinnest sand, break her until she couldn't stand anymore. But knowing that she wasn't alone, that she wasn't isolated with that burdening feeling made her spirits float a little higher. Her eyes closed, the darkness that her lids promised her surrounding all of her now. She didn't expect sleep to come anytime soon, despite the fact she felt the most tired she ever had. Her body seemed to sink lower into the mattress, the smooth blankets that once felt too rich for her unwashed skin welcoming her with less of a judgmental taste upon its tongue. Riley angled her face deeper into the sheets, hiding her nose in the maze of shadowy cloth. She had laid there, unmoving and irrevocably still until she felt the silted hands of sleep beginning to clutch at her, slipping against her skin until she found herself clutched tightly in their grasp, drawn too deep to escape.

In the haze of the drowsy state in which she wandered, Riley couldn't feel the torment of guilt, of loss, she couldn't feel any of it. She couldn't even feel the way Carl's eyes stayed studying her image until he was sure that she was asleep.

Riley stepped onto the last stair, the floorboards creaking noisily to address any other living person in the house that she was awake. It didn't seem too late in the day, somewhere around early noon. She'd woken up about fifteen minutes earlier, spending a few of those moments forcing herself to get out of bed and walk into the bathroom instead, where she'd been throughly disgusted with what she'd seen in the mirror. Her skin was stained with dirt and blood, her hair a mess of knots which she'd spent a few minutes combing through with a brush she'd found underneath the sink in a cabinet somewhere. She'd used a washcloth to try and rid her face of the grime layered on it, and found the attempt to be mildly successful, enough for her anyway. Now, she'd made her way downstairs, all grogginess faded from her. When she'd awoken, the boy she'd shared the bed with the previous night had proved to be gone, the only thing left in his trail being a ruffled pillow and a mess of blankets and sheets. 

Walking into the kitchen, Riley's eyes fell onto a white porcelain bowl sitting on the table top. There was an empty one next to it, only crumbs left in its blank surface. The original one that Riley had noticed was filled halfway with dry cereal. She frowned, tipping the bowl over slightly to peer at its fillings before picking it up and walking into the living room. It was safe to assume that the food wasn't actually for her, but for Rick, instead. Riley knew that Carl thought she was capable of making a bowl of cereal for herself, whereas Rick was still struggling in the next room over. 

As she entered the living room, though, it was quite obvious that the Grimes man hadn't moved from his position he'd fallen asleep in the night before. He was knocked out, fast asleep. His deep breaths sounded softly in the room, and Riley's eyes narrowed as she approached closer. She set the bowl of cereal down on a coffee table in the room, walking over and bending down until she was at eye level with Rick. She gently picked up his wrist, pressing two of her fingertips to the inside as she checked for a pulse carefully. It came, it wasn't exactly strong, but it was there secure enough that Riley wasn't too worried. She pulled the coffee table closer to the couch Rick was sleeping on incase he had woke up and got hungry, so he wouldn't need to push his strength trying to reach it.

She stood up, looking around the room. Carl didn't seem to be anywhere on that floor, or at least he hadn't made himself shown. She couldn't hear anything beside Rick's heavy breathing, so she walked back over to the staircase and climbed up. She checked each of the bedrooms and the bathroom, although all were completely vacant. Frowning at the realization that the boy had left the house with no warning, Riley went back downstairs. She quickly walked over to Rick, removing his axe from his belt and adjusting it into her grip.

She kissed him on the forehead gently. "I'll be right back."

Going out the backdoor since the front door was heavily barricaded, the Endicott slipped out of the house and went around to the front. The coast seemed absolutely clear, no walkers, no animals, no Carl. 

Riley stepped out onto the road, looking both ways for any signs of the missing boy, unfortunately to no avail. Her stomach twisted with an anxious pull, nervous as she was without the knowledge to know whether Carl was in danger or had simply decided to go on a little walk. She decided to turn left, maybe venture down a few streets and if she found nothing, go back the other way and look again. She'd only walked down a few houses when a pair of footprints in the mud by one house caught her attention. 

She followed them a little tentatively, not quite sure if the trail was exactly a good one to follow. She wasn't a good tracker, not like Daryl or Michonne who could easily hunt someone down if they tried. Riley gripped the axe in her hand a little tighter, following the footprints to the side of the house, where a tangled mess of vines grew alongside the structure.

She stepped closer, beginning to walk up to a side door and running her hand along the wood until it fell upon the knob. A nervous feeling settled in Riley's stomach as she began to twist it, a crack eliciting from the noise as she did so. Snatching her hand back faster than lightning, the girl took a few steps backwards, fearing that a walker would appear in the face of the door's glass panels when her back collided with something- or someone, that was not there before. 

Spinning around, Riley gasped as a walker snarled at her face. It was big, tall, and seemed to have been very muscular before its turn. Maggots were crawling out of a slash by its right eye and fresh blood was dripping from its mouth like running water. 

Riley's feet moved backwards instantly, her first instinct being to get away from the bloodthirsty creature as quick as her body allowed her to. But, she'd only made it a good two feet when her heel got caught in a mess of vines, pulling at her foot and tripping her vigorously. As she swayed with an unbalanced stance, she used her free foot to kick the walker away, raising the axe and trying to imbed the weapon in its head. The action made no good use, though, as she was at a lower disadvantage not only because of her limb being caught in a tangle of vines, but because the walker stood at least a foot and a half taller than she was. She tried to pull the axe loose from the walker's body, grunting in desperation as its hand tried to grasp at her flesh. She'd gotten so close to removing the blade when the walker fell over, a new force attacking it with a violent approach. A barking sound resonated loudly as both the body of the walker and what appeared to be a dog crashed to the ground.

Riley paused, watching with a mixture of horror and perplexity plastered across her face as she watched the mutt in front of her tear the walker apart. She was partly surprised that a dog could attack such a vile creature to the point its limbs were no longer connected to its body, and also partly surprised that she was just saved by a dog in general.

"Holy shit." She muttered as the dog stepped backwards. She unraveled the vines from her foot and ankle, a little hesitant to move to the walker and finally put it down for good. The dog watched her with a gleam in its eye, although Riley couldn't quite tell if it was a gleam of murderous intent or not. Once she was sure enough the dog wasn't about to make her its next target, she stepped over to the walker and pulled the axe out of its chest, which was much easier now that its whole body was practically dissevered. Bringing the blade down into the walker's skull, Riley wrinkled her nose and wiped the splattered blood off of her cheek, removing the axe a final time from the now permanently dead walker's head and turning her head back to face the dog again.

Riley opened her mouth, but no sound came out. It wasn't like a human had just stepped in to help her fend off a walker twice her size, it was a dog. She couldn't really make conversation when there were clear materials missing from the equation. 

With what seemed like a moment's hesitation, the dog backed up, running off to another side of the house before Riley could make up her mind on what to do. 

"Yeah." She furrowed her eyebrows. 

She glanced around for a moment when a shout and gunshot shattered the quiet atmosphere, ringing from somewhere across the street. Head whipping toward the sound immediately, Riley made a break for the noise, her eyes landing on a group of walkers surrounding who she could only guess was Carl on the ground. 

Another gunshot rang in the time it took for her to leave the yard of the house she was currently at and run across the road. Two walkers had fallen on top of Carl already, pinning him to the ground as he cried out. A third walkers began to make its approach on the boy when Riley appeared behind it, slamming the sharpened blade of the axe down into its skull and cracking it in half. With a loud thump, the creature fell to the floor, the leaves on the ground below it crinkling from the weight. Riley let the axe drop with it, moving forward to try and pull the shot walkers off of Carl as he pushed them away. As soon as he was free from the dead walkers on top of him, Carl stumbled to his feet, heaving breaths desperately.

"Are you okay?" Riley asked as she studied his figure. He didn't seem to have any injuries on him, although he seemed physically worn out, exhausted.

Carl didn't answer, instead bending over with a hand on his stomach as he puked onto the grass. 

"Oh," Riley quipped quietly, taking a step back and averting her gaze. "Okay."

Carl stood again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he looked over at her, an expression of annoyance and anger painting his face. "I had that."

"Had- oh, you mean those walkers that just crushed you to death? Yeah, I thought so." Riley shook her head sarcastically. She bent down, tugging the axe out of the walkers head by the handle before standing to her full height.

Carl scoffed, brushing past her with his gun in its holster. "You should go back to the house. It's not safe out here."

"Hello? Are you crazy?" Riley called after him, but he didn't stop. He just kept walking, ignoring her like her voice was blocked by an invisible wall.

The girl ran after him, trying to catch up to his quick pace. "I'm talking to you."

"You can stop now."

"Are you planning on going somewhere?" 

"I'm just checking the shopping center we passed. There could be more supplies there, that's it." Carl's voice was tight, as if he didn't want to slip any more information than necessary to the girl.

"Okay," Riley narrowed her eyes. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes, if you go, then so do I. I can't trust you not to kill yourself out here on your own."

"Oh, sorry. Didn't know I had a babysitter. Thanks for informing me." Carl rolled his eyes, adjusting his hat on his head so that the sun was shielded from his sapphire eyes.

"That's what I'm here for." Riley shrugged. "It can be fun, let loose a little. Live a bit."

Carl scoffed again, facing the girl with a disgusted look on his face again. "Live a bit? Our whole community just got burned to the ground. Everyone we know is dead. We need to survive now, we don't have time for fun."

"You can survive and live at the same time. It's a balance." Riley stated, her hand swinging heavily with the weight of the axe by her side.

"Well, it's stupid." Carl spat.

"Okay, you don't have to like me, but I'm coming with you, that's final. You don't have to do everything alone." Riley glanced over at the boy in the hat, but he just shook his head.

"No, but I want to."

"Have you ever heard the expression 'there's no I in team'?" Riley asked, her question only half a joke.

"Yeah, and I think it's stupid."

Riley hummed. "Sounds to me like you think a lot of things are stupid."

"Surprised it took you that long." Carl snapped at her. He faced forward harshly, gaze set solely on the road ahead of him. 

"What about your dad? He's literally dying on the couch in the living room as we speak, don't you think it'd be better if we had two people getting supplies to help him?" Riley suggested. 

Carl shook his head. "I'm doing this for all of us. Not just him."

Riley furrowed her eyebrows, glancing back to see if their house was still in view. "You think that now. You'll probably regret thinking that way later, so I'll make the decision for you. You didn't have to do anything."

Carl stayed quiet for a moment, as if pondering her words carefully. His head tipped a little, lips parting as he inhaled a breath slowly.

"Fine. But don't do anything that'll make trouble. I'm serious." He finalized sharply.

Riley grinned, although her face was hidden as Carl was now a few steps in front of her. She didn't say anything else, because she knew that no word spoken aloud could be held against her. The abandoned and rundown shopping center was beginning to unfold along the edges of their map, and with it, a small idea that sparked in the tips of Riley's brain. The searing pain that had bonded her to the home she left so sorrowfully behind still rang loudly in the corners of her mind, reminding her of the losses that played out in front of her, of the losses to come, and as well of the loss she had created. She felt like she could do nothing but reflect on the events that wove themselves into her storyline, when she had killed someone, did those other two deaths she'd been forced to experience act as a punishment? As its own way of balance? If so, then in a way had Riley already paid the debt she'd been burdened by? She couldn't find it in her, no matter how deeply she scavenged, to let go of the traumatic hole in her being left behind from the withering day's scenes- ever, she thought. But maybe, if she tried herself, she could bring the faint feeling of joy back, just for a little bit. And with her, Carl as well.

a/n - this chapter was kind of just an inside view to how riley reacted after witnessing meg's death and hershel's too as well as how she felt and viewed herself after killing someone for the first time. i also added some carl + riley scenes bc that's what we're all here for lolz, but next chapter is literally all about them !! expect some major fluff and soft scenes :)) p.s any obx fans i have here will love next part ... thank u guys sm for the love u give i admire every one of u <33 votes and comments are appreciated as well, have a good night :)