Angel With A Shotgun. [ Carl Grimes ]

~*Handcuffed to a Bed*~

Chapter Two : Handcuffed to a Bed

Laedi's Point of View

"Looks like she's waking up." whispers surrounded my hearing. My eyes fluttered open, the pure morning light filling my vision. I slapped my hand over my eyes - well, more like attempted to. A metal cling boomed off the walls of my eardrums, blocking my hand. I looked towards it, seeing I was handcuffed to the metal post of a prison bunk bed. I looked towards my right, seeing several people standing there. Rick, an old man with white hair and aging features, the crossbow guy and a boy who looked a tad younger than me; with shaggy brown hair and electric blue eyes. He stared down at me, a glare almost forming in his eyes. I tore my gaze away from him, spotting the silver metal chained onto my wrist. 

     "Why the heck am I handcuffed to the bed?" I emphasized, sitting up and swinging my legs over the sheets that were wrapped around me. I noticed the white bandage that covered my upper arm, not feeling the bullet there anymore. 

          "Just in case you turn." the old man explained, a friendly smile plastered on his face.

     "What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "So, can you de-handcuff me now?" I continued. "You still didn't answer my question... Who are you?" Rick asked harshly, his jaw starting to set. "And why should I tell you... sheriff?" I smirked, a gleam growing in my eye. The rage grew in Rick's eyes, balling his fists up.

He hit me; right in the gut. 

I choked and coughed rapidly, the punch spreading through my stomach. I gagged. "Rick." the old man scolded. But Rick shrugged him off. "Again, who are you?" he stretched every  word. "You hit like a girl." I stifled a laugh. I was the person that never gave up in a fight immediately; I wanted to fight back whether it caused me to be in more pain or not. Rick grasped his hand onto my neck, making my head slam onto the bed post. His fingers dug into my neck, choking me. "Who are you?" he asked sternly as I squirmed under his grip. "Rick, stop it! You're hurting her!" the old man demanded. "Who are you?!" Rick merely repeated. 

     "L-L-Lae..." I gasped for a breath of air, taking in only a small amount. 

"What?!"

     "L-Lae-Laedi D-Days!" I yelped, my tone yelling to let his hand release the grip on my neck. 

He pulled back, looking forced since The Old Man was desperately trying to pull him back. "What were you doing in the woods?" The Old Man asked in a calm voice, shifting on his... leg? Well, that's definitely gonna be a topic willing to learn. I pushed aside all the gagging and coughing. "I-I've lived there my whole life." I stammered. "Now, I played your game, can you let me go? 'Cause I'd rather be bit, than held hostage by some group that's leader just freaking shot me!" I screamed. "Don't you dare talk about my father that way." the boy talked towards me, pointing a funny looking gun to my head. He continued to stare me down, a slow glare forming in his sky blue eyes. 

          "Aw... how cute. A ten-year old holding a gun." I purred teasingly, my voice growing a bit high-pitched in a baby-like tone. "I'm thirteen." he gritted his teeth. I started to stare him down as well, my mind just going blank all of a sudden. They had a boy here that was exactly my age? Hold up, why am I even thinking like that? Rick and the Old Man were huddled up in a corner, looking to start an argument even though they were just having a deep conversation. I can still feel the boy's eyes bore a hole in my skull. I let it roll off my shoulders, which was really hard to do considering he was standing 2 feet away from me. The crossbow guy looked at us weirdly. 

"Carl, stay here with Laedi. Me, Daryl and Hershel are gonna have a little talk with the others." Rick instructed after twirling around to face him. Carl's expression changed. "What? Why can't I go with you guys?" Carl hissed, whispering. "She might do something, and I really have to do this, son. Hershel is considering something big." Rick explained, trying to cool down Carl's anger. Carl held back a grumble, his look hiding behind his hat. Rick, Daryl and Hershel exited the cell, while Carl sat down in front of me. I sat cross-legged on the bed. "So... your name's Carl?" I pointed out the obvious, trying to lighten up the mood. But with Carl's pale face and glum expression, he looked like  he wasn't really in the mood to be 'lightened up'. "Yeah. And your name's Laedi." Carl replied lifelessly. 

"Your dad stressing you out, too?" I asked him, trying to pick up the conversation. He looked up from his gun, bobbing his head to the side with a hard expression on his face, but I can somehow sense the flash of pain in his eyes. "What exactly are you trying to pull?" he questioned, the I-can't-trust-people look taped to his pale face. "I'm not pulling anything." I chuckled humorlessly. "Look, can we just sit in silence until my dad comes back." he didn't really ask. "So Mr. Sheriff is your dad." I stated. 

          "Can you not call him that?!" bellowed Carl, an angry look starting to form. "You think it's really easy what we've been through?! You think I'm just a normal 13-year old boy that only survived because of his dad? You have no idea what we've been through. What I've been through..." Carl yelled, muttering the last part. He threw his hands about to prove his point. I saw the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes, but he simply pushed them away with his palm. Turning around, I heard him take a few deep breaths before sitting back down on the bed. "Is it worse than being handcuffed to a bed by total strangers?" I said, rolling my eyes and swishing my handcuffed hand, making a clinging noise along with it. Carl sent me a look. 

"Close, my mother died." he responded casually. A deafening silence filled the space around us while Carl continued to push back his tears. "It's your little sister, isn't it?" I asked him quietly, recalling the small baby squeal that I heard a few moments before I blacked out. Carl wiped the few stray tears away with his thumb as he rested his forearms on his knees, bending down while his head hung low. He nodded wordlessly, sniffling. "I... I'm sorry." I mumbled, looking down as well. "If it makes you feel any better," I started. "My life's pretty messed up too." I said, nodding my head a bit. "But yours is a little bit more messed up." I added, fumbling with my left hand. 

     I felt Carl's head snap up, a confused and surprised look on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly. "Well, running away by the age of nine, isn't really normal in our town. But my parents were really strict so... I was one of the sneaky kids." I explained. "Unlike my sister," I sighed. "Ms. Perfect; the person with the brains and the tight clothes." I giggled. Carl chuckled along with me, a spark of happiness in his eyes. I picked my head up, meeting his frozen orbs. Silence drifted around us, as we just stared blankly at each other. "Well, looks like we actually have something in common." Carl stated, nodding his head a bit with a small smile. "Yeah, I guess we actually do." I agreed. 

"Carl!" we jumped as Rick's voice echoed through the walls. "Well, that's Mr. Sheriff." Carl groaned inwardly. I laughed at him while he walked out of the cell. And just that moment, I completely forgot I was handcuffed to the bed post by the boy-who-I'm-smiling-at's father. Oh, great.

Carl's Point of View

"What is it dad?" I asked him, my expression turning serious. "Carl, listen, I need you to not tell this to Laedi. The team and I've discussed, and... we're probably gonna have to ditch her somewhere or leave her." Dad explained silently, trying to keep his tone down. "What?!" I exclaimed, eyes wide. "Sh..." they all shushed me. "Dad, what do you mean 'ditch her somewhere'? You just shot her and now you want to ditch her?" 

          "We're just gonna leave her after her wound heals." Dad said.

"Please, Dad. She's not a threat to us, either way. Dad, just because you think she is one doesn't mean the whole group should follow whatever you say. She's not a threat. And I repeat, she's not a threat. She never has been and she never will be." 

          "What do you mean by that?"

I sighed. "You should just stop. You're tired, right? Tired of being the leader? Tired being the one who makes all the hard decisions? If you want it to stop... all you have to do is tell us. Not push yourself." I turned around, walking towards then door to go get some fresh air. Hershel whispered something in my ear just before I could take one more step. "Don't worry, kid. Her wound's pretty deep. So she's gonna be staying here for a long time." he assured me, straddling his crutches. I smiled at him through my hat, but shook it off once I let it sink in. 

Who would imagine liking someone at a time like this?

          Well, let's just say I imagined it for the past 20 minutes I was outside; getting some 'fresh air'.

~*~

Hope ya guys liked it! 

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- Lysandra =]