Young Slavery [A Carl Grimes/The Walking Dead Fanfiction]

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"It needs more lights!" Nicole called out as he reached on his tippy-toes to put an ornament on his uncle's tree. I grabbed a strand of Christmas lights and handed it to him.

"Here you go, Nicki~," I said. His gaze moved from the tree to me.

"Thanks. Hey uh, are you okay?" I tilted my head to one side and scratched the back of my neck.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You seem quiet." He told me.

"I, uh, y-you know. I get by." Nikki nodded and he wrapped his rather slim arms around my shoulder.

"Well, you don't have to. You have me. You're safe." I bit the inside of my cheek as he said that and gritted my teeth. It was sort of true, he wasn't too wrong about it... There was no big bad wolf to knock me down. He was home. However, I did not feel safe. I felt terrified. It wouldn't be long until I'd have to come home to him, the walking, talking, time bomb. You could never tell what you'd get with the guy. But half the time it wasn't anything good.

"O-okay, you know what? You're right. It's fine. I guess I'm just a little tired, exhausted maybe. Thanks, Nick." I said and leaned in to hug him when I heard a voice; the shaky voice of an elder. I turned to see Nicole's grandmother. She balanced herself with a walker in front of her and one hand against the wall. Her hair was up in a bun, a fallen lock behind her ear. She had pretty glasses and wore a red sweater and green pants.

"Now, how come no one else is helping, decorating this damn thing?" She asked as she peered up at the quarter-finished tree.

"Grandma, language." he muttered before responding: "Mom's wrapping presents and chatting with Aunt Makayla." I didn't know why Nicki called the woman that as she wasn't even part of his blood. I suppose it was just a family thing, though.

"Fine. Suits them, we'll decorate this tree ourselves. Nicolas, be a dear and fetch us the ornaments? Me and Ryann 'gonna sit and talk a bit." The lady said as she said down on the sofa. I knew from his eyes that he figured something was up but he didn't mind. I was basically a part of their family so it was natural to talk and catch up, as visiting family members (apart from him, his father and mother) was scarce.

My eyes watched him leave and for a second I trembled. At that moment I felt bare like I had no weapon, no protection, and I had walked onto a battlefield like that. Not because I didn't trust his family, I adored their happiness. But spending time with him was so usual the moment he left my side or vision I felt uncomfortable. Unsafe, like I was at my house and not theirs.

The place I stood in was like a mansion, with spiral staircases and loud echoey hallways; the definition of hell. I came from a poor family, a neighborhood of fist-fights, everyday alcohol, and grey toxins in comparison from Nicki's everyday sunshine; I didn't complain, however. It helped me sleep to know my knight had his strength and didn't have to face the fiery memories I did. His life was as perfect as a painting. His memories were filled with barbeques, house parties, family members and friends. Mine were acid, they made dying seem like the greater option; the better option.

"Sit, darling. Your feet must be killing you." His grandma told me in her weird elderly voice. I hesitated at first, not wanting the sofa to become infested with lice or whatever I probably had in my cluttered small house. Nicki did this weird thing where he would make me strip down to a bathing suit and would pick my lice out of my knotted locks of brown. I had taken baths and saved up enough money to get me the dog shampoo in hopes it would help but to no avail. Nicki didn't mind, surprisingly. He liked caring for me, never told me why, though. I enjoyed the fact that he did care, though, because that made him the first.