Hard Candy [Carl Grimes/The Walking Dead]

Turning Tables

"Just let me explain."

"There is nothing you need to explain that I didn't see for myself."

Carl is standing in the middle or the room and he won't fuck off. I sincerely wish he would, because he is officially the last person still living on the planet I want to interact with in any way, shape or form.

Also, my face is red and swollen and my voice sounds like my throat's been dragged across a desert full of cacti. I'm in no way ready to tell him what's on my mind right now. Or ever, really.

He's been standing here for at least ten minutes, trying to explain. Well, not really. More like trying to shout over the pounding music in my ears. I chose my plushiest headphones and faced the wall when I heard his footsteps down the halls. Sadly, Carl isn't one to take hints.

Rick and them still haven't come back. I hope they do soon, so I can have a reason to go downstairs and avoid Carl and Melly for the rest of my life.

"Just... I never meant to hurt you." I can barely make out his voice through my headphones, but there it is. Now I'm interested.

I tear off the headset and fling it on the rug. Carl jumps noticeably. I glare at him through slits.

"Is that a fact."

"It's true," He insists. "I wasn't thinking. I... I was bored. I-"

I hold my hand up for silence. "You were bored, so you decided to fuck my cousin?" I notice him flinch at the words fuck and cousin. I can't help but laugh, a cynical little chuckle. "Ever heard of reading a fucking book maybe?"

Carl grinds his teeth. "Can you stop being such a bitch? God, we aren't together! Why the hell are you so pissed? How does this even affect you in the least?"

Ouch. That hurts, even if it's true and I know it. But I am pissed.

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. "Can you just leave, Carl? Seriously. Is the only reason you came here to make me feel like shit? Because mission accomplished."

"No," Carl insists, his voice a little softer. "I just wanted to explain. To talk to you, so you're not, like..." He seems to be having trouble coming up with words. "...freaked out over me forever... I don't know, I think we could use some serious closure."

That is the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I spit out with wrath, my iPod curled tightly in my fist. "That's so perfect. You had nearly three solid weeks to tell me whatever's hanging off your dick, but no, instead you decide the only right time to come crawling on your hands and knees if after you've bunned my cousin's more-than-willing oven."

My chest boils with pent-up feelings, dying to come pouring out. In months of slaying walkers, I've never felt more powerful.

"And you just walk in here expecting instant remorse," I continue, "Because you think you can take advantage of my vulnerability that fucking easy. Well let me tell you, if there's one thing three weeks of silent treatment has taught me more than anything, it's that silence means consent. Meaning you're happy with your decision of cutting me out. Well guess what, so am I." Carl pales, and for a second I feel guilty. But I don't let it stop me. I hop off the bed and go right up to him, close enough for him to feel uncomfortable.

"I don't need you anymore," I say simply. "I can take care of myself."

Carl's drained face flushes, his eyes narrow and then soften. He drops his gaze and swallows with difficulty. Defeat.