Who: Carol What: Realizing her mistake and trying to deal with all the feels. Where: Her cell. When: Late Friday night. Rating: High probably, for triggery stuff. And a boatload of angst. Status: Complete.
The night felt weird even before she went to the roof to scout for walkers. She'd felt different all day, off somehow. She figured she was probably coming down with a cold, or maybe the flu. Mostly she was just tired, but she did have a headache and her sinuses were clogged. Rubbing her hands over her eyes, she made her way to the roof of the prison. It was something she'd been doing lately. It was a good way to get in some target practice. She'd gotten much better at her aim than she'd been only a few weeks ago. She knew she had to keep practicing or she'd lose the skill she'd developed for it.
Maybe target practice at night wasn't the best idea, but so many of the times she and her friends and family had been ambushed by walkers had been at night. It wasn't like they slept. She waited for a long time until she saw movement in the distance. She raised her weapon, taking aim and firing a moment later. The body dropped to the ground almost instantly and she smiled faintly. She was pretty certain that Rick and the others would be stunned if they could see her now. She wasn't the same weak woman she'd once been. No. She was strong now. She could protect herself.
She could protect others. Protect the children at the prison -- something she'd failed to do with her own daughter. A pang of grief tugged at her and Carol closed her eyes. She put on a good facade most of the time, pretending she was getting past the loss of Sophia. But truthfully she thought of her daughter all the time. She dreamed of her nearly every night. It wasn't something she'd shared with anyone. Not even Daryl.
Carol made her way back inside the prison, feeling strangely awake for the late hour. She made her way toward her cell, checking the network on her phone and frowning as she saw posts about Allison. She was missing? Her stomach tightened with worry. She liked all the teens she'd met from Beacon Hills. They were good kids. Some were more than just kids, but Carol had developed a very open mind the last few months.
But it was Max Guevera's post that really caught her attention. Allison had been shot? They thought she was dead? How could that be? It was recent.
"Oh god," Carol whispered, eyes widening in horror. Was it possible? Had she shot Allison? Had she killed her? "No, no no." No. It couldn't be. It couldn't. Her mind immediately flashed back to that day months ago when Andrea had shot Daryl. Broad daylight. She'd thought he was a walker and she'd shot him. Thankfully Andrea had been a suck shot or Daryl would have been dead. But Carol wasn't a suck shot anymore. Her aim had been accurate. She'd seen the body fall.
Walker, or Allison?
Her chest was tight and she felt sick to her stomach.