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M E G A N

The doorknob to the vacant trailer clicks open, finally declaring the end of our treacherous journey to Hilltop. Sneaking past the countless Saviors in the woods to get to the car was half the battle. The other half was figuring out how to actually drive. Luckily, for whatever it's worth, Carl was able to guide me in starting the car that would take him to his final destination.

Traveling through empty streets would not have been so bad—for a beginner like myself—had I not had to maneuver without the use of headlights, out of the fear of being seen and caught. The jagged, unclear road ahead did not bode well for the boy who lay dying in the backseat.

The boy's emergent state left very little time for an explanation as we rolled up to the gates of Hilltop. Everything between now and then has been a blur.

I was a frantic mess trying to keep Carl awake the long journey here. I've been a frantic mess this entire time—so caught up in the chaos to fully absorb the fact that we've finally made it to where Carl is supposed to die.

"Just a little bit farther," I continue to push the boy, whose sweaty, feverish arm I remain firmly under. My eyes rapidly scan the bathroom, before landing on the bathtub. I immediately shuffle the both of us over to the toilet. "Here—sit down."

The boy throatily gulps between the slow blinks of his watery eye. "Ok—Okay,"

I gently shake the boy's weight off of me, placing him against the cold, porcelain toilet seat, that of which contrasts with the temperature of his warm body. After repeatedly turning my head back and forth, I stumble to the faucet, flipping it on.

To my flustered surprise, the well water actually begins to pour out. The reveal of the unsteady stream of water relieves me only for a moment, before I realize that this water will provide the boy's final bath. I place the stopper in the drain, before quickly returning my attention back to Carl.

"Let's get you out of this," I start as I quickly begin to unbutton the boy's flannel. I guide his arms out of the dewy fabric, one at a time. The bath water continues to run, creating a gentle static sound in the background of my scurrying. I put Carl's sleeveless arm around my shoulder, lifting the boy before I even explain what I'm doing. "Up," I breathe out.

Carl uses whatever energy he has left to gently lift himself from the seat, allowing me to unzip his pants and pull them to his knees. Once the pants are out of the way, I lower him back down onto the seat before I untie his boots and rip the pants away from his ankles, pulling down his loaded thigh-holster with them.

"One more time," I say.

The boy exhaustedly blinks at my demand as I, once again, position myself under his arm. His shaky muscles churn and tremble as he attempts to aid me in lifting his dead weight.

Once he's on his feet, nothing but my pure adrenaline is able to get both of his legs over and into the bath. The boy slips down slowly yet suddenly into the few inches of water, as he lies with his back against the tub.

Not quite fathoming that there's nothing left for me to do, my eyes frantically scan his body, while his eye stays locked on my face. The bandage covering the bite on his abdomen comes into my view, and I quickly remove it, tossing it onto the floor. A breeze from the open door—that I don't want to waste precious time closing—causes the bloody bandage to skid across the tile floor.

I quickly stand to grab a washcloth from the shelf, before dunking it in the cool water and running it across the boy's cheek.

"Th—thank you, Megan." His empty voice cracks out, just above the volume of the running water. His head lies against the rim of the tub, as he turns his glance in my direction. The boy's pale, sunken collarbones protrude as his neck muscles strain.

My mind travels back in time to a period in my life where Carl and I would avoid thanking each other, at whatever cost. When we'd just barely liked each another enough to speak, let alone appreciate one another.

Once my breath catches up to me, my lips part and I stare at the dying boy, having everything yet nothing left to say to him. My eyebrows furrow. "For what?"

"For getting me h—here," His lower lip quivers. "For being here for it."

My breath hitches at the mention of it.

No matter the measures I've taken to get here or the amount I've risked to be in this moment—to even have a chance at it—I will never find a way to be thankful that I'm here. I will never find a way to be thankful about anything that ends in Carl's death.

I stay silent.

"I just—I need you to know," The boy stops, before using his dry tongue to try and moisten his lips. With stinging, watery eyes, I quickly run the washcloth over his lower lip, gently squeezing it to allow the drops to seep onto his tongue. He swallows, barely managing to shake his head. "You've changed my life, Megan. Y—You're the reason I gave Alexandria a chance. You're why I gave people a chance."

In this moment, his every word is contorted in my disturbed mind. Although Carl going to Alexandria for me is supposed to be endearing, I see it as nothing but my responsibility over everything that has happened to him—to us and to the group.

If we had never gone to Alexandria, he never would've gotten shot, I never would've killed Ron, Glenn and Abraham wouldn't have died, and Carl never would've gotten bit.

But, if we never went to Alexandria we wouldn't have found the group. Carl and I wouldn't have gotten a second chance to live with our people. If we had never gone to Alexandria, we both might have been dead a very long time ago. And, as the dying boy holds one last gleam in his glassy eye, I don't have the time or the energy to get caught up in what might've been.

"Carl," My high-pitched voice cracks out. "You're the reason I gave any of this a chance. You don't know how much it meant to me th—that you chose me of all people, back at the prison. I hardly even remember life before you. I don't even want to remember it." My voice gradually dissipates into a tearful whisper as I begin to shake my head.

"Soon, y—" The boy's longing eye looks into mine, before he offers me a twitch of a smile. "You won't be able to remember a life with me, and that'll be okay. I need you to be okay. Don't let it drive you crazy. Don't let it be the thing that kills you, Megan."

My lips remain parted—gaping even—at the boy's disregard to his own death. Tears make their way down from my eyes. Some trail down my nose. Some make their way down the my jaw, streaming down my neck. Others make their way onto my separated lips.

My eyes squeeze themselves shut, as I exhaustedly shake my head. "I won't."

"Hey," He calls out. "Hey."

My eyes reluctantly open.

Our gazes interlock as we share a knowing glance. I soon lean in, quickly yet gently lowering my lips onto his. My tears warm the kiss, more-so than his burning skin. The action is urgent and desperate, and we both cling to the moment that we know we'll never get to share again.

"I love you, Megan." The boy begins to cry, only pulling his lips far enough from mine so that he can whisper. My eyes open, only for a stunned moment. "I really love you—more than you'll ever know."

My eyes flutter to a close, sending more building tears flowing down my cheeks. I open them again, releasing my grip on the damp washcloth and using my hand to cradle his cheek, holding his forehead against mine. "I love you too, Carl."

"I know, Megan." He swallows. "I know." He mutters again, allowing his eye to shut. The boy takes deep breaths as if a weight has been lifted off of his dying chest. He cracks a weakened smile. "It s—sure is nice to hear, though."

A throaty chuckle breaks through my tears as the boy makes me laugh one, final time. The moment doesn't last long before the darkness of the situation picks up right where it left off.

"I love you." I repeat.

His lip quivers. "I love you too."

The running water from the tap is the only thing that sounds out in the otherwise quiet room. Because my ears have become accustomed to the noise, the room might as well be silent under its heavy atmosphere. Every breath I take—every breath Carl takes—I watch with intent, as if to drag on this painful moment, just to shorten the amount of time that I'll be left on this earth without Carl, even if it's just by a few seconds.

His eye closes for a moment, as my stare on him intensifies. I begin to back away, widening my view of him, as if to check for any signs of life. The sudden coughs that jolt the boy awake fail to startle me, as my concern only pulls me closer to him.

"I don't—" The boy gulps. He tirelessly shakes his head. "I don't have much longer."

"Don't say that." My head frantically shakes back and forth. "Of course you do."

A few moments pass within my state of denial. So much so that the denial begins to pass along with them, and the boy and I are forced to face the ugliest part of our new reality.

Carl takes a deep breath through his scratchy lungs, smiling up at me. "Megan."

"Oh god." My lip begins to uncontrollably quiver as the sobs begin to heave through my entire body. The pad of my thumb travels along his warm cheek, as I soak in every last second of his living touch.

His eye slowly closes, as if to not see me in such a state. The boy lacks the strength to handle the sight of my tears, while I lack the strength to suppress them.

"M—my," He stutters. "My gun."

My eyes widen at his suggestion. My glance wanders back and forth between the boy and his pants that are strewn along the tile floor, as if to make sure that he means what he's saying.

After a few silent moments that lack in his regret, I release his cheek as I begin to crawl towards his pants. It doesn't take long to locate the hard lump buried deep within the fabric, and the time seems to fly by as I finally uncover the silenced weapon.

Shuffling back over to Carl, I notice the cool water filling up the bathtub more and more. Little streams of blood from his bite wisp away along the surface of the rising water, tainting it.

"So th—this is it, huh?" Once my eyes finally travel to the boy's eye, I come to find that it's already locked on me. "This is r—really happening?"

My hand slowly rises to cover my sobbing mouth, as I continue to kneel by Carl's side. "This can't be h—happening."

"It is, Megan." The boy's voice cracks. "And it's okay. It's gotta be. You've gotta be."

I sniffle myself to an ounce of composure. "A—Are you okay with it?"

There's no response in this world the boy could mutter that wouldn't make me feel worse by the second. Nothing could alleviate anything that I feel as I grip the weapon reserved to put an end to his life.

The boy tightens his quivering lips into a smile. "As long as you're here for it." He whispers.

"Are you scared?" I whimper.

Carl says nothing to accompany his reluctant nod. He is scared. I conceal as much of my reaction to his response that I can. He swallows a lump in his throat. "Are you?"

"Terrified." I sniffle.

"Of w—what?" He asks, struggling to keep his eye open.

"Of doing it without you," My wet lips part for a few moments, as I try to catch enough wind in my vocal cords to respond to the dying boy. I shake my head. "I can't do it without you."

Unable to reopen his eye, Carl's face pulls itself into one last saddened smile. "You already have."

A lack of deniability is present as Carl's smile slowly fades and his last breath glides out from between his lips. The twitching of the boy's eyelashes comes to a halt, as does every bit of life that has just slipped away.

The peaceful boy rests knowing that I wait near, ready to end it with his own weapon. In this world, my predicament is more than what most get during the loss of a loved one. However, I will never feel grateful about the death that just occurred underneath my fingertips—the warming life that just slipped out of the palm of my hand.

My hand removes itself from his cheek, as I clammer backwards, sliding along the tile floor until my back hits the wall. Once there is no more distance left to travel from my dead Carl, my composure is no longer a necessity.

"I can't." Loud sobs break through the quiet town of Hilltop, as the door to the trailer remains wide open. My hands cover my face as his gun drops to the floor. "I'm scared."

My head shakes back and forth—as if there's anyone around to see me—as I continue to wail. The pain in my chest makes the passing moments burn like hours and hours of torture. The sense of comforting companionship knowing that I was not living in this world alone, despite any distance or odds that have been between Carl and I, now vanishes. The warmth of the safety blanket that I didn't even know I had wrapped myself in leaves me feeling exposed and on my own.

I can't do it—put an end to Carl this way—but I have to. Because although left to face whatever is left of my life without him, I'd be worse off not keeping the one last promise I've made to him.

My tear-soaked fingertips trail along the floor as I peel myself from it, climbing to my knees. They soon find the cool metal of his gun, before gripping the weapon. I inch myself closer and closer to the filling tub, finally catching another glance at his face—his peaceful expression.

I bring my free hand to his cheek, once more, planting a shaky kiss on his forehead.

Once I pull away, my eyes study his face once more as I allow myself a smile of reminiscence. Every memory of my life alongside the boy flashes before my eyes.

That menacing look when we first met. The feeling in my stomach when he held me at gunpoint in the guard tower. The soft pillow caressing my head and neck as the boy tended to my illness. The smell of the dim fire as we burned my file to a crisp. The sound of the dogs barking and children playing in the streets when we first arrived to Alexandria. The cool breeze out on the dock, on the night that we first kissed. Carl rushing to the infirmary because he heard that a doctor had been killed. The feeling of the scar on his abdomen right below my fingertips. The sound of the thump of stale bread rolls as I threw them at his chest. The tightness of the hug that we shared after the war. The last night we shared together, and the last moment we shared together.

My shaky hands bring the gun over the rim of the bath. The silencer makes its way into the water, the tip placing itself right at the base of his skull.

I once again place my lips against his forehead, allowing myself a few more sobs against his skin.

"This isn't goodbye."

With a silenced shot and the splatter of blood across my exposed neck, the moment—although beginning and ending with his death—changes something inside of me.

The rising water slowly engulfs the boy's bloody chin, washing away gusts of his blood into swirls that soon disappear. I remove my lips from the skin of his forehead and release his gun from my grip. The clatter of the weapon on the tile muffles within the static that's ever-so present in my brain.

I back away from his body, finally standing atop my own shaky legs.

The rising water slowly pulls whatever's left of him under and his fully submerged, bleeding body causes the bath to overflow. Overrun water spills over the rim of the tub, pooling at my feet before it disperses across the tile floor. After mindlessly staring as the water turns the dried dirt on the base of my boots back into mud, my trembling hand finds the faucet, once again, before haphazardly switching it off.

Not much time has passed since the handle was first turned on, yet so much has changed and so much has been lost. The moments encapsulated between the first drop and the overflow are all I seem to be able to remember about a lovely boy that was once Carl Grimes.

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2993 words
December 21st, 2023
12:56 AM

A/N

hey ...

long time no see ...

...

I've resurrected this book in honor of it hitting 200k. This "alternate ending" type bonus chapter has been in my mind since before ending EE the first time. Although this also ends in Carl's death, I feel like this book was missing something before I wrote this.

Megan gets closure, not having to live with everything that the other ending leaves her with. although I prefer the other ending, this one is just as valid and fitting for my characters.

Thank you guys so much for 200k reads. I genuinely never thought I'd see this day when I started writing EE back in 2017. It was a pipe dream. And now it's just a reality????

so thank you. THANK YOU.

It has been so refreshing to read EE over again and reflect on how much my writing has improved from the first part to the last. also it's been over a year since I've written in first person which is WILD.

I've added new manips to chapters twenty and thirty one, as well as to the graphics sections. so go check those out because my manip skills have def improved since my first go-around with this book.

anyways, I have another Carl Grimes fic called "The Warmth of a Night Survived" in case you guys haven't read it already.

I hate to say this, but I think this will be the last update of this book. I'm stalling writing this A/N just to make this last longer.

I can't even begin to express everything that you guys and this book have done for me.

so, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

- disturbedia