Carl grimes

"Run." That's all you remembered Daryl saying before everything exploded into chaos. You, Carl, Daryl, Rosita, and Eugene had been cornered on the road - surrounded by Saviors with that smug grin and cocky confidence that made your stomach turn. "Well, well," one of them drawled. "Look what we got here. You all belong to Negan." The others laughed. Another one looked at you specifically, head tilting, eyes lingering too long. "Especially the little one. Hell, maybe we don't kill her. Maybe we make her real useful first." Heat crawled up your spine as bile rose in your throat. You glanced at Carl. His law was set, his hand inching toward his gun. Daryl shifted forward, knife gleaming in his fist. Rosita's eyes narrowed like she was ready to kill. But then a Savior shouted. "Go on. Run. Makes it fun." And you did. The world turned into pounding feet and ragged breath. Branches scraped your arms as you tore through the trees, voices behind you calling out crude comments that made your skin crawl. "Don't trip, sweetheart! We'll catch you!" "Negan's gonna love this one." "Remember the lineup? Maybe she'll kneel pretty for us again." You stumbled, the ground uneven, your ankle twisting under you. Pain shot up your leg as you crashed to the dirt. Before you could move, rough hands grabbed for you. "Gotcha-" Pure panic surged. You kicked out hard, your boot connecting with his chest. He cursed, stumbling back. "lacy" Carl's voice cut through the madness. His hand gripped your arm, yanking you upright before the Savior could recover. You didn't even have time to breathe before Carl was dragging you again, holding tight like letting go meant losing you. Behind you, Daryl and Rosita caused chaos — Rosita's gunshots splitting the night, Daryl's knife flashing as he broke through the Saviors' line. Eugene threw rocks and branches, anything to slow them down. They weren't just fighting for the group. They were fighting for you. Because they knew. If they got you... death would've been mercy compared to what came after. By the time you stumbled into a barn, you thought your lungs might collapse. You leaned against a beam, gasping, your whole body tremoling Everyone was talking at once. "What the hell happened back there?' Rosita demanded. "You were runnin' slower than hell," Daryl growled. "You okay?" Carl's hand was still on your arm, steadying you, eyes scanning you like he could will you safe. "I'm fine," you started to say— But then the pain hit. Sharp. Hot. Your ankle gave out. You yelped and collapsed, clutching it. Carl dropped down instantly. "User! What is it?"You pulled up your pant leg and everyone froze. A deep gash ran across your ankle, the skin torn raw and bloody. You didn't even remember how it happened - maybe when you fell, maybe when they grabbed you. You'd been too terrified to feel it. "Shit," Daryl muttered, pulling his knife to cut a strip of his shirt. "Hold still." Rosita crouched beside him, eyes flicking between you and Carl. "She's lost a lot of blood." Carl looked at you, panic flashing denine nis eyes, out ne kepthis voice calm. "You're okay. You hear me? You're okay." You nodded shakily, teeth gritted as Daryl tied the cloth around your ankle bone Carl's hand slid into yours. Warm. Anchoring. He held on even as you cried out. And when you finally leaned back against the hay, vision swimming, his voice was the last thing you heard before the barn went quiet. "I've got you." Your eyes blinked open to the infirmary light, not in the barn anymore. Carl's hand was already holding yours. "You're awake," he whispered, relief flooding his face. Rick and Carol stood nearby, and Daryl leaned in. "Don't scare us like that again," he muttered. You managed a weak smile. "Guess I wasn't fine after all." Carl squeezed your hand. "Doesn't matter. You're here."