I saw the metal of the pistol, in all its pride and glory, aimed right between my eyes—a shot that would kill me before I could do anything to prevent that. I saw the barrel of the gun, seeping into the dark space that a bullet would come venting through, and eventually embed where it was aimed for. I realized this weapon was nothing less than lethal, and this could very well be my end,
but I wasn't afraid.
Although I was at gunpoint, the boy holding such power beneath his fingers was absolutely harmless, in every sense of the word.
His hands were trembling, making the aim for his gun uneven and unpredictable. Tears were down his cheeks and pooling at his eyes; even in the pouring rain could I depict which were of rainfall, and which were of tearshed.
Fear was all I could see. I sought past the metal of the gun and the threat it withheld, and realized that I wasn't afraid;
This boy was.
"Put the fucking gun down," Carl barked.
I turned to the young man on my left—nearly flinching at the intensity of his voice. But nothing scared me anymore, besides my own head. Carl Grimes was drenched head to toe from the pouring rain, his hair sticking to his face, and his eye bandage becoming soggy. Soon enough, it would slide off, and this terrified stranger would see Carl's most lethal wound, worn clearly on his face. His jaw was clenched firmly, his finger coiling around the trigger with every intention on pulling it and ending it all for such a young man.
The boy before us didn't oblige. I couldn't tell if he was trying to assert any dominance he had mustered up within him, or if he just had nothing to lose. Because he against Carl would be a sad, brutal ending for him.
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His quivering lip, his shaking hands, his crystal tears; they all summed up to fear. And although I never pitied the afraid:
I pitied him.
I found myself slowly lowering my gun to my side. Whether it was an act of surrender or defeat, I hadn't known. But I felt Carl glaring at me from my left—wondering what the hell I was doing, letting my guard down like that. I knew he'd yell at me for doing something so naive, but I would fight back.
"I said, put the gun down," Carl repeated himself, all through gridded teeth.
"Carl," I warned him.
Carl glared at me from the corner of his eye, sending me a look of loathing. He couldn't believe to see me seemingly standing up for a harmless stranger like the one before us.
