the killing of a sacred deer - carl grimes

XI

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xi.

requiem for the damned
"in another life, a long time ago."

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I'm on thin ice.

Thin, thin, thin, thin ice.

You ever try biting your tongue? Just to see if it would hurt? It never does, when you do it on purpose. But when you're just trying to eat and it slips between your teeth then damn, it almost burns.

That being said, I've always known my limits, my boundaries... But shit, do I make a point on testing them just to see where my foot sinks a little and I can know just where the edge is. Usually, I just toe the line occasionally, step over a bit when I see necessary, when I can't hold myself back. Most times, it's forgivable. Understandable. I'm only human and I'm stubborn to the bone.

But this?

Shit.

I really bit my tongue on this one.

Seeing my father's face on the other side of the driver's side window causes my stomach to drop.

In my few years of being a teenager, I had done plenty to piss him off, but nothing like this. Nothing like being caught tangled up with his worst enemy under a horse blanket in the cab of a beat up old Chevy in the middle of the woods.

An eternity goes by when my lone eye meets his, matching blue on matching blue. The hue I inherited from him. The expression that coats his features is indescribable. Anger, fear, disgust. His lips curled over his teeth, eyes wet. I wonder how long he has been standing there.

I feel immediate pain. Pain that I've upset him, my father who has done nothing but love and care for me. What this must look like to him: treason. His son, who he has killed for, betraying him.

In the next second, he's ripping the door open.

"Dad, it's-"

"-Carl, get out of the truck." His teeth are clenched and I obey. I'm fully clothed, thank God, nothing was really taken off during last night's encounter so there's no awkwardness of hurriedly dressing myself or anything but shit. Was that just last night? At this point, that feels like ages ago. I feel my cheeks burning and I don't even look back at her, the girl who has my release still sticky on her inner thighs, as my boots hit the ground. My eye is trained on my father, I'm on damage control.

"Dad, it's not-it's not what you think it is, it's not like that."

"I don't know what I think this is." He bites out, and then his eyes flick over my shoulder, to her. "You two want to tell me what's going on?"

I wait for her to say something snarky, since she's in my dad's presence, as would be the mask protocol. To boast about her entrapment of me, like it was all part of the plan. Make me look like a fool so she doesn't look weak. But she is silent.

"Is this what you've been doing?" He asks me, his tone still sharp. "I thought—I thought you were out seeing Enid... Or killing walkers. And then you don't come home and we're all out in the woods looking for you. But you've been out here with her? What is going on?"