Carl had learned years ago what it meant to live in this cold, new world. He had seen first hand how everything had evolved, how people had changed, and how the living had become more of a threat than the dead walking. He’d also learned that things could change in the blink of an eye. One minute someone was there, and the next, they were gone. He’d lost his mother, indirectly caused the death of Dale, murdered Shane himself, and now he was losing more people who were like family to him. Glenn had been there with him since he could remember, but Carl had always said that nobody was guaranteed to make it. People were going to die, and sometimes, there would be nothing they could do about it. This was one of those times. It still hurt him profoundly that they were gone, that he'd never be able to see them again, but he'd lost so much at this point that a large part of him felt completely drained and exhausted.
Negan seemed compelled to continue on with the games and bloodshed, for the teen had soon been pulled from the line to join his father in front of everyone, where he was forced to lay down on his stomach after a belt had been strapped tightly around his arm. Still, he refused to give Negan the satisfaction. There was no point in trying to physically fight back anyway. They'd lost this one, and the only thing they could do was obey, though Carl's tone maintained a steel edge every time he spoke to Negan. He loathed him. Everyone was going to die if Rick didn't bring down the ax on Carl's arm, and so far, Negan had been a man of his word. He meant everything he said, and this was probably no exception. Thus, fighting it was useless. The brunette accepted what had to be done, his gaze dropping towards the black line across his arm before averting it towards the ground. He didn’t need to see it happen--If it would happen. Rick was hesitating, crying and panicking at the situation he’d been placed in. If he didn’t do it in three seconds, however, then everyone would be shot in the head on the spot. They’d lose everyone, and for what? An arm?
“Dad, just do it,” Carl spoke up, prepared to sacrifice his limb to save the others. His gaze had locked onto his father’s, brows drawn together in a way that didn’t portray anger, but rather desperation. He kept an even tone, no hint of anger or fear present in his voice. He just wanted it to be done so nobody would have to die. “Just do it,” he repeated, urging his dad to go through with bringing the ax down on his arm. He only had two seconds left, and Negan was hovering over Rick, speaking right into his ear while he counted down the seconds.
@thisisaninsaneworld