The Dead Walking 5

(the fifth book in The Dead Walking series!) Some chances ARE worth taking... and in a world like this... you don't have yet a second to decide what chances are the ones worth the risk. I still don't know if I chose right.


11. A Cycle

            I don't sleep, even though that sounds like a great thing to do. I cant. I'm too on edge. It's probably like 5 now. The night just keeps dragging on. I try matching my breathing with the beating of Carl's heart. It's relaxing... and relieving. He's still breathing. The bleeding's stopped. He's laying, right beside me, his skin warm against mine.


          He's alive.


        That thought brings me more joy than I ever thought was possible. I sigh and sit up slowing, wincing as the bed creaks. I throw my legs over the side of the mattress and slowing stand up. I take a glance back at Carl before stepping out into the hallway. I just don't know what to do anymore. I love them all so much, but I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of all the constant fighting, of always being torn in half deciding what's right and what I want. I'm tired of always losing people and I'm tired of living in this world. I'm tired. I haven't gotten a goodnights sleep in I don't know how long. My clothes hang in tatters around me, barely even allowed to be called an outfit. I haven't took a bath in months. I haven't eaten in a couple days. This isn't living.

         I don't know what this is. Hell? No it's much worse than that. It's this cycle. it just keeps going, around and around, and each time it goes around it takes someone, something, anything you love until you don't have anything left at all. That's what this is. And I'm getting close to my last time around.

         I walk slowly to the kitchen, avoiding the living room where some people are sleeping. I'm surprised to find I'm not the only one awake. I see Maggie standing there, leaning on the counter in the middle of the kitchen. She looks up when she sees me and smiles a little.

         "Couldn't sleep either?"

         I shake my head. "I wish."

         She stands up straight and runs her flingers through her short brown hair. "Yeah. I know whatchu mean." There's an awkward pause before she continues. "So... how's Carl doing?"

         "Oh he's doing okay. The bleeding's stopped so that's good. He slept all night... which is also good I guess..."

         She nods. "It is good. Sleep is the body's way of healing."

         I think about this for a moment. Is that true? If I was somehow able to sleep... would it help heal me? Would it help heal all the holes still gaping inside of me. No. Carl is healing. His wounds can be healed, maybe not all of them, but close. "Then I guess that's a great thing," I say, faking a smile.

         She puts a hand on my shoulder. "I know it's hard Izzy. You don't have to act so tuff around us. It's okay," she lets her hand fall away and walks into the living room, leaving me standing alone.

          It was a nice thing of her to say. I like Maggie. She's strong. She's sweet. But she doesn't understand me. Not like Casey does, or Carl, or maybe even Daryl. I internally sigh and walk over to the kitchen table and pull a chair out. It's a hard, but comfortable wood. I take a seat and but my elbows on the table. I rest my head in my hands and look out of the sliding glass doors at the pathetic excuse of a back yard.

          After a moment I just let my head fall, not bothering to stop my face from slamming against the table. I groan, scrunching my nose, making sure I didn't break anything. It's sore, but I can tell its not broke. "That sounded like that hurt," I hear Casey's familiar voice and smile, shaking my head lightly.

           "Kind of..." I admit.

           "Kind of," he mocks me, as he walks over and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table.

           "What are you doing up this early anyways?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

           "I could say the same thing about you," he points out.

           I shrug. "I couldn't sleep. Sleep doesn't really come too easy nowadays."

           He nods, letting out a light laugh. "I know what you mean."

           I take the brief silence to study his face. To be honest he doesn't look tired, from just a glance, but I can see the light purple bags under his eyes indicating the lack of sleep. His hair has grown a good inch since we first found him, leaving his shaggy blond hair falling closely to his shoulders. The more I look, the more I realize it's a lot like Carl's. The only difference being that Carl's bangs are more defined. His eyes are a blue-ish green, kind of like the sea. He looks a little older than both of us. His shoulders are broad and muscular, the muscles prominent showing he's a lot more fit than I thought. "How old are you?" I ask, the words slipping from my mouth.

           He raises an eyebrow. "17," he states, but then adds, "I'm pretty sure... I haven't necessarily kept track of the days..."

           I nod. "A year older than me. Ya know Beth is only a couple years older..." I tell him, wiggling my eyebrows.

           He chuckles, setting his hands on the table. "I've barely even talked to her Izzy!"

          "And since when have you ever been at a loss of words?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Never. "Get your mouth a' movin and talk to her ya doof!" I hit his shoulder playfully as the sound of someone waking up reaches the kitchen. "Maybe that's her..." I smile before spinning around and sprinting up the stairs, laughing.

          I quiet myself before entering the room where Carl is sleeping. I'm surprised to find his lying there awake, smiling. He raises an eyebrow before shaking his head. "Casey and Beth?" he asks and cant help, but think of how much better he looks. His hair is a mess and I can tell he's sweating, but he doesn't have those familiar bags under his eyes and the bandage around his side doesn't look anymore red than before. His gorgeous blue eyes shine brightly at the sight of me.

          I nod. "I think it's about time for a new couple around here. We're kind of old news," I point out, crossing the distance from the door to the bed, and plop down beside him.

          "Old news?" he raises his eyebrow, smirking. "I don't so. We're still pretty-"

          "We've been together for 3 years now Carl..."

          He sighs at this. "Yeah."

          "Well I just think it's time for some new romance around here. I didn't mean I think our relationship is boring or whatever. I mean they both deserve someone too. And Beth's only a couple years older," I remind him.

          He doesn't say anything else and I look over at him to see what he's doing. I see him staring up at the white ceiling trying to see what he sees. "What is it?"

          The sound of my voice seems to catch him off guard and his eyes widen. Then just like that, he's back to normal. "Just thinking," he replies. I want to groan. Why does he always do that. 'Just thinking'


          "Everything." So vague.

          I slide down so I am laying right beside him, letting the heat radiating off of him warm me up some. I sigh. "That's a very vague answer Carl. Is something bothering you?"

          He shakes his head. "No. Nothing is bothering me. I'm just thinking. I'm thinking about everything. Everything I've been through. All the times we've kissed. Everyone that's died," he says somewhat irritated.

          "Sorry," I mumble. "Sorry I even asked. I didn't know you were going to be an ass about it," I remark.

          "You just ask so many questions. Sometimes I just want to think about stuff... not talk about it."

          I feel anger flood through me and I sit up, glaring at him. "Oh. Okay. Sorry I care," I snap before standing up and jogging to the door.

          "Izzy," he calls.

          I stop just long enough to say, "You let me know when you want to stop being an ass and talk again Carl." I don't even look back at him as I make my way down the stairs.

          I know I'm overreacting. I always do, but I don't care. He's always hiding his feelings. He never tells me what's wrong or what he's thinking, but when it comes to me, he's all me, making sure I'm okay, making sure everything is alright, practically forcing me to tell him how I feel and he has the nerve to say sometimes I just want to think about stuff... not talk about it. It's scary, really how fast we can go from having a somewhat sweet conversation to this.


           So bipolar... the people we are. 



       Okay so is it just me or did that chapter kind of suck... kind of? Yeah... sorry. So with school and everything I haven't had much time to update and I've been reading A LOT so I'll try to start and update more, but no promises. And this story hasn't gotten any likes or favorites in like a month so I'm kind of sad about that. I'm thinking about holding off for the update until I gain one... but I don't. HIT THAT LIKE AND FAVORITE BUTTON!!!!

                                                                xoxo~ Samantha <3        

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