To watch your friends have their heads bashed in by an overly joyous psychopath would be hard on anyone; let alone two 16 year old kids.

Carl almost shot to his feet to hug you as soon as Negan left, practically tackling to you to the floor, checking if you were okay. He shielded your eyes from the view of Abraham and Glenn’s bodies, though the memory had already been seared in behind your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Carl asked frantically, cupping your face and checking for any marks.