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He tries to slowly scoop the cereal and lead it to his mouth, only to have it completely miss; stabbing his cheek and spilling milk. Judith giggles.
“You think that’s funny?” Carl smiles at her and she just babbles. He gives up on the cereal and holds her closer, bouncing his leg.
It was little tasks like this that got into his head. He can’t even eat properly now that he’s missing his eye, he can’t read the same without it disorienting him, and he’s definitely more clumsy than normal. He worries sometimes that he’ll drop Judith. And so he tries not to hold her. And he tries to not get his hopes up.
Everyone will die someday, and it’s always sooner than later. And it’s always before you’re ready. And it’s always before you get to prove yourself. Carl would be lying if he said when he looks at Judith he doesn’t sometimes see his mothers body or hear her screams.
With a sigh and a furrowed brown he gets up, done trying with breakfast and getting rid of the soggy cereal to set Judith down.
He places her down gently before he hears a spare walker growl and stands up suddenly to watch it out the window; it’s quickly stabbed. He sits back. It’s weird, He’s not sure what he feels. What he thinks is just kill. All he feels is the strong impulse and tingle down his spine. It’s all he can think of to do and it’s the only word in his mind before it’s put to rest. What he does like, in a way he’s ashamed of, is how now that these scraps of the invasion lie; he feels the pit in his stomach that he used to get become filled. The unnatural, unsettled feeling he would get being in such a perfect home, a perfect community.
Now that it’s at least realistic, it’s bearable. He doesn’t have to assess the situation. He can go back to his ordinary always on alert mode. See a walker? Kill it. See someone bit? Kill them. (Although that’s harder with a community full of softies, he thinks.) There’s no moment to think. It’s action and it’s surviving. It’s what’s kept him alive and Judith alive. So he’s perfectly satisfied with that.
A knock on the door catches Carls attention; “Come in!” he says.
“Hey, Carl.” Michonne smiles at him. “What are you and Judith up to?” She waves at the tired baby. She makes a face afterwards, like somethings off.
“I was just watching her drift off. What’s up?” He looks at her with confusion.
“I think it’s time for a shower, Carl.” She grimaced. He feels embarrassed; if he’s honest he forgets about the hot showers he now has access to. Rick has definitely been taking advantage of them. Carl still finds himself uncomfortable with the luxury. But he forces himself into the bathroom.
He’ll find himself zoning out as he undresses. He remembers the man that held him down. He remembers his own screams in the streets. He remembers his fathers mouth full of the man’s blood. He sighs.
Slowly peeling his bandage away and removing the pad he tries not to look. He stares at the floor and looks at his bandage. He wonders. But Carl doesn’t look. He never wants to see. To see the reminder on his face. To see how his face has been permanently stamped with a gorey image he wonders if his father even loves. He doubts it.
He turns on the water and feels the shocking cold water wake him from his thoughts and comfort him. He hugs himself and lets the water envelope him. It’s an embarrassing habit he picked up, the hugging. But he can’t stop himself. And so he holds himself when nobody’s looking.
——
Dressed and hopefully not so smelly, he walks back into the hall; but he places a hand over his missing eye and hopes it covers it. He races down the street to see Denise and have her wrap it. His hair still soaked.
He knocks and she almost immediately greets him; “Oh, hi Carl.” She smiles at him. “Bandages?”
“Please.” He says, walking past her into the room. Once she closes the door he finally lets his hand down. He expects a wince, a held breath. But Denise just looks at him. No reaction, she just sees him.
“You’re healing very nicely, Carl.” She says picking around her supplies to find things for Carl. He finds himself grimacing at that. What does that even mean? ‘Healing nicely’, his eye is missing. He’s a freak. He’s half blind.
“Would you hold your hair for me?” She asks; Carl grabs his hair into a half ponytail, she pauses.
“Carl, your hair is too wet.” She tsks. “Let me find you a towel.” She searches before giving him a towel and letting him lightly fluff his hair with it.
“Thank you, Carl. I know you’re antsy to get your bandages on but I can let them get wet like that.” She places the gauze on his socket and starts wrapping. He doesn’t say a word.
——
“Michonne?” Carl calls as he stands in her doorway.
“Yeah, Carl?” She turns towards him with a pleasant smile on her face. She never let that smile fade near him.
“Do you have hair ties?” He asks. For whatever reason he can’t see himself cutting his hair. But it’s starting to get real inconvenient.
“Yeah. You want me to do your hair?” She looks excited.
“Uh, like what? I was just gonna put it in a ponytail.”
“I could do that for you, could braid it real cute. Maybe even pigtails.” She giggles. He scoffs.
“Isn’t that kinda.. Girly?” He shrugs.
“And what’s wrong with that Carl? Come,” she gestures him to walk into the room. “Be my first client.” He walks in, she pats the ground for him to in front of her on it. They both criss cross.
She rubs his shoulders casually, “how fun is this? What are we thinking, Carl, a braid or a ponytail? Pigtails are still on the table too.” She grins even though he can’t see it.
“Um, anything that gets it out of my face.” He chuckles.
“Braid it is.” She starts brushing out his hair; it’s such a soft touch. “Your hair is so thick.” She keeps brushing. Her hands start working on the braid, she pulls his hair all into the middle and starts weaving it into the beautiful pattern. Carl feels so relaxed. He feels loved. He feels all the tension he’s been holding leave his body. And he cries.
Michonne hears him sniffle and she stops, “Carl? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m.. I’m really okay. I’m sorry.” He feels embarrassed as he keeps crying. “I’m sorry I’m sorry—“
“Carl, Carl. Calm down. You don’t have to be sorry. What is it?” She holds his hair in place and uses her other hand to rub his shoulder again. She lets him take his time to find his words.
“I’ve just..” He exhales sharply. “I’ve just been scared all my life. And the things I’ve seen, they haunt me everyday.” He sniffles again. “And.. And I miss my mother. And I think about shooting her every time I close my eyes.” He keeps breathing erratically as he cries.
“I wish you were my mother from the start. And I wish I didn’t kill how I do. I wish I was normal.” He keeps ranting as the his mind spins and he word vomits every emotion taking him over. “And I’m scared Judith will die, like Sophia died— You don’t even.. You don’t even know Sophia!” He sobs. She grabs him into a hug from behind him.
“Carl, listen. You are safe now. I’m with you. Look around you. We’re okay. I won’t let anything happen, I promise.” She softly speaks; he holds in his arguments and places his hands on her arms to return the backwards hug. He leans his head against her. He continues to shake and cry. But he’s allowed to. And it feels perfect.
Once he calms himself she gets up to grab him tissues, but he grabs her arm.
“Where are you going?” His voice breaks. She sees the little boy inside him.
“I’m gonna get you some tissues, okay? You wanna come with me?” He nods. They walk to the bedside table and grab the tissues, sitting back down he blows his nose as she starts on the braid again. Another overwhelmingly loving touch.
She ties off the braid, his side bangs brushed behind his ear. “You wanna take a look at your new hairstyle, Carl?” She smiles at him and they both get up and walk to the bathroom, staring in the mirror he smiles.
“I like it.”
“Me too.”