THICK SKULL , twd [ 1 ]

35. pessimist

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               IN THE DESOLATE LANDSCAPE of the apocalypse, teenage girls epitomize resilience and adaptability amidst the chaos. They navigate the perilous world with a blend of determination and ingenuity, their once familiar teenage concerns overshadowed by the primal need for survival.

               What happens when that survival seems futile? Everything you've strived for taken from you in a matter of seconds.

                           The man who saved Carl died brutally in front of his kids and the people he made his kids.

            Dirt coats Koa's skin and under her nails. She doesn't know what day it is, how many times the sun has set and emerged from between the trees they've found some sort of safety in.

        Panting after killing a few walkers, Koa lets the grass beneath her back tickle her. She takes in the sound of Beth and Daryl's breathing, letting her know she isn't alone even though she's lost her sisters, brothers and more than half the people she's let her heart beat for over the last almost two years.

        Koa wipes the sweat from her head, glossy and tired eyes peering over at Beth. The blonde spares her a small smile, even after all she's been through she manages to smile at Koa. The brunette girl engraves the sight into her head, vowing to never let it fade from her memory.

                   KOA TALKS. SHE IS a bigger talker. So, when a fire is flickering between the three and she hasn't muttered a word, Daryl has to raise an eyebrow. But—as far as they all know—their family is dead. Koa lost her sister again. What is there to speak about?

           Knees tucked to her chest, Koa can't help but think about the early days of this all. Amy, Dale, Andrea—Lori—Uncle Shane.

        The sea of trees make Koa jump with every noise. She failed Lori and Carl. Silence makes her recall that bloody car seat and the possible cries that erupted from Judith in her last moments. She failed Sadie. She lost her—again.

            From the right of the sulking girl, Beth speaks up. "We should do something," Beth mumbles. Koa doesn't speak, doesn't change her stoic expression, her finger just runs along the old class ring, staring at Shane Walsh engraved into the band.

        "We should do something," Beth repeats louder this time bur Daryl's glare just burrows into her, "We aren't the only survivors. We can't be." Koa bites her bottom lip, no energy to be even verbally pessimistic. That beacon of hope that Beth Greene carries around still shines through even as they have no home except each other. "Rick, Michonne—they could out here," She continues despite the lack of conversation, "Maggie and Glenn could have made it out of A block. They could've," She insists, staring right at Daryl.