the killing of a sacred deer - carl grimes

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x.

these violent delights
"often have violent ends."

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l u c y .

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My father always told me boys caused nothing but trouble.

I hate to admit it, but the bastard was right.

Because Carl Grimes' only God damn talent was sabotaging me with his stupid, beautiful face.

At first, I relished in the fact that Rick's golden boy loathed me. It filled me with a sense of accomplishment. Mostly because I figured he was the only one who would ever have the fat ass balls to kill me. His glorious ego was to thank for that. Which was fine because I, for a while, I knew I'd stop his pretty little heart if I had to. We were destined to kill each other. Absolute fate, right?

But, for some reason, we just let each other live. Why? Because we're dumbasses. With hormones. And we were too curious about the other to just end the tension, because the drama is fun or something.

And then, we got even more stupid. Stealing away for hidden nights traipsing through the woods like two main characters in a coming-of-age movie, quarry swimming in the silver moonlight, burning our lungs and fingers with cigarettes, laying on our backs in a clearing and stargazing.

Pardon my God damn French, but, like, what the fuck?

Carl Grimes made me bat-shit-fucking-crazy-stupid.

Sad to say, when I go stupid, I don't go halfway. I knew in my heart, that I've always been kind of an idiot or something, and this undeniably gorgeous and equally idiotic boy brought it out of me. Pisses me off a little bit. Here I was, being all tough and doing my job and then—BAM—like getting hit in the chest with a battering ram: Carl freaking Grimes.

I must have been on crack to think buddy-buddy time a couple hours out of every night with Carl Grimes was a good idea. Sorry, my underdeveloped literal teenage brain wanted to have fun and he wasn't stopping the whole thing, so... Well, we're both at fault.

But he's not in charge of dozens of people. Families. Children. Worshipped like some kind of deity.

Carl Grimes, for the most part, got to be a little normal inside the walls of his perfect home, Alexandria.

Inside the Sanctuary, I was paraded around like some almighty child-like empress. My decisions were like God's law. My words were final say. People trust me, depended their lives on me. I couldn't keep up the charade, living two lives. Not when I had already sacrificed everything. I couldn't lose everything I had worked so hard for. I'm not going to pretend I'm a good person, that I do good things. I know what I am. I know why they fear me. But I know its for the greater good.

I had to be hard: this great, big, terrible monster. Someone had to be, no one else wanted the job. No on else wanted the responsibility. And to have me, nearly still a child, as the front face for the Saviors... Just to show that even the youngest among us were warriors, were hardened killers. To make people watch a small girl kill their friends, their family. It was humbling and disturbing to the highest degree. To show they really didn't know what this new world was, I was the whole welcoming committee. But I was getting weak, soft.

It started the night of the line up, seeing him on his knees. Glaring up at me with a dry eye while the rest of his people blubbered, begged. He saw me for what I was and he did not fear me. Which, to be honest, fascinated me. Jesus, I always want things I can't have. I wanted to show him what I was capable of, or maybe I just wanted to show myself. Prove to myself that this beautiful boy was off limits, and I needed to cause enough destruction to keep him away, keep him in line. I ordered his father to cut the boy's arm off. I swear to God, I wasn't going to stop him. I was going to make it happen so that any hatred the boy had for me would cement and his stump of an arm would be the constant reminder. But, no, I stopped Rick at the last second. Carl Grimes got to keep both his hands. That was my descent into absolute stupidity. I let Carl skim by, get away with things I would bash skulls in for. I couldn't kill him, no matter how badly I should have. Of course he saw this, like he saw everything else, he noticed my hesitance. He saw me getting soft for him.