Hard Candy [Carl Grimes/The Walking Dead]

+1

"You've gotta be kidding me," Carl mutters, his voice breaking. "Are you seriously telling me not only is Melly pregnant, but she also has AIDS?"

I can't answer.

"My God." Carl pushes his fingers into his hair and refuses to look at me, I can tell trying not to cry. "This is fucked up. And now what about the kid?"

What about the kid? I nod, biting my lip, tears flooding my eyes and rolling down my cheeks.

"We have to tell her," Carl says finally. "She needs to know."

"I don't want... She can't..." I can't find the words, but for some reason I can't picture myself confronting Melly about her disease. "Maybe she already knows."

"Maybe, or maybe not." Carl looks like the world is truly coming down on him. "Why would she know, and not tell anyone?"

"Maybe she's embarrassed," I say. "Embarrassed or not, she should have told someone," Carl insists.

I nod mutely. "You're right. I wonder if her parents know."

"Doubt it," He snorts.

"I don't," I say suddenly. "Maybe that's why Uncle Kemper was so furious and why Aunt Kizzi blanked out."

"Well, they are extremely religious," Carl replies. "Maybe her being pregnant is bad enough."

A new voice interrupts. Carl and I turn--Melly stands in the doorway. She walks over and sits down.

"I heard it all," She confesses. "It's true."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" I cry.

"I told my parents," She says flatly.

"Why didn't you get help?" I choke out, tears running down my face.

"It was too late," Melly cries. "I've had it since year ten."

"How can you be sure?" Carl demands.

Melly sighs. "I think after a frat party when I was fifteen. I never should have been there. This guy, I forget his name... Everyone said he was a sleazebag, but... He was on the varsity lacrosse team. It was only a couple drinks, but..." She cuts off her words with a sob of anguish. "I was fine for a bit, and then I got sick. My parents, they put two and two together... The doctor gave the diagnosis. I had meds, but..." She wipes her bloodshot eyes with the hem of her cardigan, her entire body trembling. "I'm dying."

"Don't say that!" I beg her. "Please, we'll get you help..."

"How?" She demands. "I'm too far gone. And now the baby..." She bursts into tears. "Make sure my baby lives."

This is too much. I hug her tightly, massaging her back as she dampens my shirt. "You'll be okay, I promise." But I regret the words even before I at them, because I know I can't promise her that. And she knows it, too.

***

"She's going to die." I'm forcing myself to face facts. I can't sugarcoat these truths anymore, no matter how awful they are. "Her and the baby. Their fate is sealed. They're doomed."

I feel Carl nod in the darkness. "Is there anything we can do? To make it easier?"

"Not really," I admit. "At least make sure she lives long enough to hold her child in her arms. We can at least give her that."

"What if she doesn't?" Carl asks. The following silence answers his question: Oh well.

"Do you think the walkers suffer?" I ask, suddenly curious. "Do you think they feel the agony of their rotting flesh or missing body parts?"