SOTC: drugs by EDEN
• 'Cause I just feel so tired / like it's move or slowly die •
Carl flinched as April ripped the keys out of the ignition. She popped open the car door and slid outside before he had even tried to move.
He slowly unfurled from his curled position, then pulled the handle so that the door inched open. He pushed it farther, some part of him hoping that the longer he took, the longer he could delay this whole ordeal.
The early morning air was a little too cold, like how it feels on drab Monday mornings. He reluctantly stepped out, wringing his hands anxiously. Rasping growls came from all directions. From the fenced-out pens of walkers, tattered flesh hanging from their hollow cheeks. Impaled and reaching from chained sticks and poles. People in baggy beige sweatshirts spray-painted with letters, poking and pushing the walkers around. Wheezing and heaving in exhaustion.
The walkers didn't bother him. He'd been dealing with them for years. But what did was the towering factory building. Its maw dripping with ink and rust. Looming over him like a gray wall, its crest grazing clouds.
"Welcome to home!" April whooped, sidling up next to Carl. He snapped out of his dazed stupor, devoting a quick glance to her before staring at the ground.
"What's wrong, Carl? Got the blues?"
You'll be going home someday. Stay calm. The words echoed through him, but they sure didn't make him feel much better.
"C'mon, you must be fuckin' hungry. Let's get some sandwiches."
She skipped ahead of him towards the yellow-railed staircase. She had a newfound energy about her. Was it from the prospect of food? The prospect of being home? Of being with her fellow sadists again?
He swallowed, leveled his head, and followed her into the building.
They emerged into a large room, filled with lines of cluttered tables and the smell of roasting vegetables. Chatter and laughter bounced off the walls. Shabby-dressed people exchanged banter and clapped each other on the back.
A golden-skinned girl with bright blue hair caught April's glance, and her face broke into a smile. She gave a wave, inciting the attention of others, who began to shout cheerful greetings to the two of them.
April skittered closer, dragging Carl behind her. "Elle!"
She gave an enthusiastic grin. "Mi corazón, tú vuelves! Did you guys find 'em? Is he—" She flicked her head at Carl. "—from their group? Is he gonna be like Ol—"
April gave a mysterious chuckle, which made Carl flinch in disgust. "I'll fill you in tonight, Elle. Give you every juicy detail."
She pushed past the people, pulling Carl along by his arm. He ripped it out of her grasp and began massaging the feeling back into it, watching as April grabbed paper plates and two pairs of bread slices from a table.
He reluctantly followed suit, placing a slice of cheese and ham into his sandwich—he wasn't that hungry for much else.
She lead him through the winding stairwells. He kept his gaze trained on his feet. Shifting his bandage around. He felt... shoddy. Dirt clouded his skin and stuck under his fingernails. He really needed a shower. And a clean bandage.
It felt as if he'd been dragged through hell. His mind was beginning to slip from the events of that morning to a heavy, ugly question.
What comes after this?
After what felt like endless climbing, April stopped in front of a burgundy-colored door with a lion-shaped knocker. Carl scoffed. Now that was fucking pretentious.
She drew a key from the pocket of her cargo jacket and stuck it in. "After you," she purred, swinging the door open to a lavishly decorated room.
Carl was half-expecting the room to be filled with fuchsia drapes and lingerie, but it was quite different, thankfully. It was shaped like a hotel room, with one big bed and a cot pulled up to the side of it. The picture window at one end of the room was quite large. Light poured through it, casting an open glow.
Paintings of warscapes hung across the walls, above a desk pushed to the side of the room, some waiting to be put up. A display frame hung over the bed, two AK-47's gleaming menacingly from within. A side door led to a warmly-lit bathroom, with a rusted mirror and a green-curtained shower.
"You don't have your hat."
April said it like she'd just noticed it. He'd left it in the RV, he'd realized that on the ride over. But there was something about that hat, about the ornaments of his childhood that adorned it, that made him feel oddly comforted that the hat had been left behind.
"Anyway," April said, making Carl's head snap back to her. She stood by a side table, tucking a paper cup into a Keurig machine. "You want some coffee?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine," he murmured. "Can I take a shower?"
She shrugged. The coffee maker began to wheeze. "I'm gonna go chat with Elle in a sec. Go 'head, but I'll be gone once you're out."
Carl nodded. All the better, to have time to himself. Maybe he could find a weapon, or...
He disappeared inside the bathroom before his expression could betray anything else.
Though he couldn't see it from behind the door, April gave a cold, knowing smile.
x x x x x x x x x x
A/N: Let's talk about last week's episode. Carl & Enid held hands a ton. That scene where they clotheslined all those walkers was glorious. I'm excited to meet the garbage pail kids tonight.
x x x x x x x x x x
Word Count: 957
Created 2-19-17
Edited 4-10-17
Edited 4-23-17
[A/N cut 4-23-17]
Edited 6-28-17
Edited 8-17-17
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DEVILS ♛ C. G. 〖 #wattys2018 〗
Fanfiction[ c o m p l e t e d ] "She looked like a goddess. The kind that sends cities to their knees in fear. The kind that is never in picture books. The kind that twists people." - - - - - April is a devil. A demon. And above all, she is a...
