The Walking Dead Imagines (Requests OPEN)

[imagine series no.1: Carl Grimes] A Solemn Survivor

Beginning on an imagine series below, wooooo! This is taking on my own plot line of the story- I hope you enjoy. Also, non discreet change in the way things are written. It's now me, instead of you.

PROMPT:
The apocalypse changes us, makes us do things we would never do.

Oh survival.
The word marvels me.

When was this word created and what did the creator think? Did they think it would be just another word in our elaborate evolution of response? Did they realise that soon in our future to come, the word survival would represent so much more than just trying to stay alive? Did they? Or really, how could they?

I clutched my knife in my weakened fist, throwing my arms in the air. Thick blood staining my singlet, sweat worn around my neck like a necklace and hair a mess.
Oh survival- and the things I did for it.

I threw my arms in the air and kneeled down. Surrender. I surrender.
Hot salty tears prickled at the corners of my eyes and I bowed my head.
Meet my fate.
Time to meet my fate.

And the exhaustion of it all took me away, the darkness covered me like a blanket and whispered goodnight.
And when they were opened, I wasn't where I thought I'd be.

The room was white and the sun shone through the clean windows. Attached to my body were needles, below me was a hospital bed- and above me was a ceiling.
"Please!" Someone piped from the corner of the room, hands up in defence. "Please don't punch me!"

I sat up, running my hand along my arm and yanking out the needle. Nothing but a small whimper exited my mouth as I did so, too.
"You shouldn't do that." She told me, hands still up.
I bit my lip, yanking out another.
I turned my head to look at her, a plump, scared looking blonde stared straight at me. "You'll only make things worse." She stammered, stepping closer.
I looked down at my blood stained white singlet and my extremely thin exterior.
"What is going on?" I murmured, staring out the window.
"I don't know." She replied. "You tell me. I'm just a nurse."
I sighed. Ah. Just a nurse.
"No." I sternly announced. "Why am I here?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. They brought you in here and told me to tell them when you wake." She bent over and picked up a clipboard. She then turned her back to me. I don't waste time asking the 'where am I?' Question. It doesn't matter where I am. I'm on earth, with all the dead men. That's the only thing that really matters.

As her back is turned, I slip out of the bed, slamming myself against the door and opening it. The sun rays hit me hard and I put my hands up to shield my eyes.
"Oh no." I mutter- as townspeople dotted around the street notice me. A group. I'm with a group. Oh no.
I turn around, readying to sprint, when my body bashes into another hard body. I stumble back, falling on my butt.
I scrunch up my fists to fight, only to hear a thick southern accent.
"Easy girly. We ain't the ones you should be running from." He says. I shield my eyes, scooting backwards, only to bump into another body.
"Just calm down, we don't want to hurt you." He cooed, the sun still blocking my vision. Before I can do anything else, I'm circled in.
"Please. Leave me alone!" I scream, my heart beating hard in my chest. "Please!" I cry. "Please don't hurt me!"
But I'm replied with a calm, "No, we won't."

I am lifted up, with strong arms- and my body of just skin and bone is too weak to protest. So I am carried back into the room I started in, this time, two tall men on my heels.