"I can taste the danger, but I don't wanna run."
-
Ophelia
Carl holds the gun to my head, as I sit in the cabinet under the sink. I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Drop-"Carl begins, but is cut off by door slam and a woman's voice.
"Carl? What's going on here?"
I open my eyes to an African woman squatting down next to Carl and snatching the gun from his hand.
"Michonne, that's my gun!"
"Treat it like a gun then." She says, keeping it in her hand loaded but not aiming it at me.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Ophelia." I say, managing to not stutter.
Michonne exhales loudly through her nose, keeping eye contact.
"Get up." She says, I nod and quickly scramble out of the cabinet. I notice Carl death glaring me from the side of the kitchen.
"No funny business or I'll shoot, now follow me." Michonne says, keeping her composure.
I do as she says as we exit the house. She doesn't speak until we arrive at something resembling a garden.
"Rick." Michonne says, the man with his back to us turns around.
This must be Rick.
"Oh, well who is this?" He says, a southern accent lacing his voice.
I realize Michonne is looking at me, waiting for my answer.
"I'm Ophelia, I got split from my people and broke into Alexandria in search of supplies when Carl found me. He trapped me in his house and-"
"Wait a minute, his house?" Rick says, looking to Michonne. She seems unfazed.
"I just have a few questions Ophelia. How about we go back to our house." He says, looking at Michonne.
As we walk up the steps to the house, I realize these are Carl's parents.
We enter to an empty living room.
"Sit." Rick says, motioning to the couch. He and Michonne sit in chairs across from me.
"Who are your people?"
"We call ourselves The Kingdom."
"Kingdom?" Michonne interrupts, seeming judgmental of the name. I just remain quiet.
"Do you know the location?" Rick asks.
"N-no, we got overrun by the fallen. We had to evacuate which is when I got separated." I say, lying through my teeth. I couldn't have these people trying to find mine.
"They'll just assume I'm dead. That's what they do." I say, hoping they'll accept that and stop asking questions about my people.
Rick let's out a hefty sigh.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
Michonne gives Rick a questioning look with wild eyes, which he ignores.
"We were supposed to be counting? I'm really far behind then." I say with a shrug.
This makes Rick chuckle slightly.
"How many people have you killed?" Rick says, regaining all seriousness.
"Ten, maybe twelve."
"Why?" He says, with a squint.
"Enemies hurts my friends." I say.
"So that gives you the right to kill them?" Michonne says, staring into me.
"Let me restate that. Enemies raped my friends, held them captive, killed some."
Michonne doesn't look away but her stare softens slightly.
There's something about this place that makes me want to stay.
Inside these walls, the sun shines brighter and the air seems less heavy.
There are people here, happy ones.
"Well Ophelia," Rick starts, breaking me from my thoughts.
"If you want to stay, I'll think about it. But until I've decided for sure, I want you to stay here. I need to evaluate you a bit, make sure you're who you claim." He says.
I nod quickly and smile.
"C'mon, I'll show you the bathroom so you can shower." Michonne says, standing up for me to follow.
I already know where the bathroom is because of Carl, but I just follow Michonne there. She seems weary of me, I want trust.
I've always felt the need for approval, especially from adults.
"There should be towels in there, I'll leave clothes right outside the door for when you're done." Michonne says, opening the bathroom door for me.
"Thank you." I say, giving her a soft smile. She just nods and watches me go through the door.
I notice that I don't hear her footsteps walking away until I start the water to the shower.
I touch the stream, expecting it to be cold but it wasn't.
My eyes widen, shocked but overjoyed.
I quickly strip my clothes and get into the steamy shower, pulling the curtain closed.
I soak my body before grabbing the shampoo bottle. I lather the suds through my hair, attempting to remove the dirty layer.
I wash my body, and begin to feel clean again. I put the conditioner in my hair and grab a razor.
I decide to shave while letting the conditioner sit.
This ended up taking about a half hour, but eventually I was hairless.
Right as I begin rinsing out the conditioner from my hair, the shower curtain gets yanked back.
Only a slight bit of scream gets out before a hand clamps over my mouth. My wide eyes meet the icy blue one I've come to know as Carl's.
His hand on my mouth slowly pushes me back until I'm against the wall.
He steps into the shower so he's in front of me, the water now running over his fully clothed body. I cover myself with my arms to my best ability.
His other hand reaches into his jean pocket, pulling something out. He flips open a pocket knife, holding it up so I can see.
Carl leans forward, his mouth level with my ear.
"I really should kill you for that stunt you pulled earlier," he whispers.
I didn't even pull a stunt, he just got caught holding me captive!
His hand slowly slid down from my mouth to a firm grasp on my throat, causing me to gag a little.
"But I won't, I could use a little entertainment around here. I'm warning you now," his grasp begins to tighten around my esophagus with every word.
"You don't want to cross me."
I gulp and nod the best I can, reaching my hands up in attempt to pry his hands away.
I notice him smile slightly, sadistically almost.
"Good." He says.
He blows in my ear as he releases my neck, causing my body to shiver and fall down.
I take heavy breaths, trying to not make much noise.
Carl turns his head and hold his hand under the shower stream.
"Better be careful," he starts, causing me to look up at him from my placement on the floor of the tub.
"Your water is getting cold." He says monotone, stepping out.
Carl exits the bathroom, completely soaked.
What is wrong with that kid?
He has a good life under the circumstances.
But he seems insane.
And I wanna know why.
-
Author's note
Okay so clearly Carl is very odd, he's not fully there. In this story, he's very much a product of the apocalypse.
