the killing of a sacred deer - carl grimes

V

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v.

cigarette daydreams
"so sweet with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees."

-

Putting them out is my favorite part. The first time was an accident, but the next time I do it in the same spot across my fingers, it's on purpose. And the next time. And the next time.

I think I'm only smoking them to put them out. I don't know. Either way, I can see how it can become addictive.

I sit at the window of my bedroom and I smoke another one. Then I crawl between the sheets, burying myself under layers of blankets. The burn stings, I put my mouth over it and shut my eyes.

I dream about her. She approaches through the rain, her blonde hair a cloud of smoke around her head in the mist. I reach out to touch her. Feel her. I pull her against me. She smells like cigarettes. She tastes like burnt skin.

I wake up and my arms are empty, cold.

I go to the window and smoke another.

-

The dreams don't stop. Soon, they delve into the day time. I catch myself daydreaming, a luxury I can't afford. What had this girl done to my mind? Brainwashed me?

I work hard to keep my thoughts elsewhere. Using the trip to Hilltop as an out. I pump myself up to see Enid, thinking if I force myself to be excited to see her then eventually I actually will.

But when we arrive and I see Enid on the front steps, as expected, I feel: nothing. She hugs me, lingering, and all my twisted brain can do is wonder what it would feel like to be embracing Lucille Negan.

Enid asks all about my trip to the Sanctuary, mainly focused out the fact that I came out alive despite my murderous intentions.

"You went there to kill that bitch." Enid eyes bore into mine, as she tries to make sense of it all.

"I tried."

"So, she just let you go?"

"Yeah."

Enid scrunches up her face. "Doesn't make sense. It just doesn't add up."

I worry that she can see right through me. See that I'm some sick, perverted monster who wants to taste the enemy's neck.

"I was scared you weren't going to come back." Enid says after a long moment passes. She is not a vulnerable person, so when she gets all soft with me it definitely makes me uncomfortable. Its so forced, her attempt at caring. "I thought I'd never see you again."

She touches my hand. I look down at it. Then back up at her.

"Well, you're seeing me."

That's not what she wants to hear. I know what she's trying to get out of me. Some kind of admittance, a confirmation. But I don't have one for her. I don't feel the things for her as she does for me.

Plus, I know her feelings towards me are fabricated through pity. How could anyone actually desire me? She's simply trying to fill the hole her last boyfriend left, using what scraps are left. Figuring the poor one eyed boy will have to do.