Love Like This (Carl Grimes Love Story)

Prologue

Carl's POV

My knife slices through the walkers head like butter, the blackish blood spilling into my hands and up my wrist as I let out a dark chuckle. A small smile comes to my face as I see it's body crumpled on the floor of our new home.

You killed it. An angelic voice whispered to me sadly. But you liked it. My demons showed their ugly faces as they bend the halo that started to form on my head.

The smile was whipped off as I realized there were no more walkers in the room. Just the dust that coated the furniture like a small layer of snow in November.

Bending down to the walkers hight, I started to wipe it's blood off onto it's ugly ass shirt. I purposefully slid the knife a little harder than needed, watching with amusement as the blood soaked it's shirt and soon dripped to the floor beneath.

It's soul would stain my hands, like the many other useless things I had killed. It thrilled me to take the life of something, but that was the flaw; a walker doesn't have a life. All the more reason to kill it slowly.

A swift and silent knock came from the doorway behind me. My body was blocking the mess a had created with my own selfish needs, so the on comer would have no visual of the dark things my mind and soul can create with just a thought.

A growl came from the back of my throat as I turn with dark eyes to the doorway. My father stood, his gun by his side as he overlooked the room I was in. It makes me pissed that he comes to check on me like a child every time we do something individual. It's as if he doesn't trust me, like I won't get the job done on my own.

"What?" I snarl. I stand to full hight, which is just about as tall as my dad taking a few inches off. I snap the knife back in my belt, not taking my eyes off of the man for a second. He visually gulped and looked awkwardly around the tiny room.

"The lower levels are clear." His hands motion to the stair case just in front of the door. I raised an eyebrow, not seeing as I would care in this situation, he still felt the need to tell me.

"I don't care." My voice was low, but powerful. Anyone else in this situation would have ran out the room, lucky I didn't cuss them out or take a swing at them. But my father was different, he thought he was going to get past me and get me to tell him what my demons liked and what they possessed me to do on a daily basis. I wouldn't tell him that though, he would try and take them from me. The demons are the only thing keeping me alive at the moment, they make me feel no pain, they make things almost fun.

"Alright son," He sighed and shifted feet as he put one of his dirt filled hands on the door beam. "We will all be talking in the waiting room when you are ready to come down." He bowed his head as he holstered his weapon and backed out the doorway, knowing good and well I hate when people turn their backs to me.

I glanced back at the bloody walker near my feet, it's blood was now dripping off the small rug and into the hard wood flooring.

"You're fucking disgusting." I spat. Bending down again and taking the edge or the rug, I started to role it's decomposing body in it. Looking around for a dump sight I caught a glimpse at the far window in the corner of the room.

I roughly grabbed the walkers ankles and started to pull it to the corner of the room. It seemed the more you moved them the more they smelled, almost like it was an impulse. The dead motherfuckers smell worse than shit out in the open on a hot day.

I grabbed the end of the window and gave it a good tug, it creaked as the old wood slid against the tracks. I made just a big enough hole for the body to fit in. Lifting it's feet to the sill I could lift it's upper legs so they went out the window first, and giving a last shove I watched the body fall the the pavement below and split open. It's blood flew up and painted the walls at least six foot high. A laugh leaves my throat as I think of one word; weak.

He was weak. And if he wasn't then he might have survived in this world, but he was so he died. And he turned into one of those sick bastards that walk aimlessly looking for their next meal. Because if you're not strong, you might as well be dead.

Because you're gonna have to make choices that will keep you alive. My choices are thrilling and dark. But that's what makes it fun, you're aren't aloud to do it so do it anyways.

Dark is fun.

A/N

Okay so this is the first chapter! I know it's not the best and it's really short, but I wanted you to get a feel on what Carl faces everyday. He likes death and he likes to kill.

I'll explain more in the next chapter on where they are and stuff. They aren't in the prison. I'm not planning on going in order with the show, but I might add some stuff later! Never know! Tell me what you think!!

~Melinda