TASTIER (PROMPTS 10 & 11)
they keep me in a locked house. i nearly feel like being kept in a basement would be better, because this shows that they have enough humanity to not keep me in a cage, but not enough to differentiate me from my father.
i hear the door's lock starting to turn. i sit up on the couch, staring at it. a boy walks in, a few comics in his hands and a bandage over his right eye. he looks about my age.
"i figured you'd be bored." he says, then puts the comics down next to me. he walks out without another word and locks the door behind him.
the next time he comes to see me, i've already read all of his comics. either it's been a while, or i binged them. probably the latter, since he's wearing the same clothes as last time. he's not alone this time. he's with the man that took me. next to each other, the resemblances are obvious. they're father and son. wow. i really appreciated a gift from my kidnapper's son.
the man inches closer, the kid following his steps. the man kneels down in front of me. the man speaks.
"what's your name?" the man asks me.
"negan." i reply, as i was taught.
"i meant your real name." i stay quiet. "your dad... he wants to know if you're okay." he takes out a walkie-talkie. i damn near jump to the thing, but the man backs up. "how many walkers have you killed?" i stay quiet again. he starts putting away the walkie-talkie.
"how many people?" he asks.
"thirteen." he turns and looks at his son, before returning to me.
"m'dad." i can feel my eyes watering, so i look away. he turns on the walkie-talkie.
"we're with her." he states into it.
"y/n." my dad speaks. i try to hold the thing but the man doesn't let me. he presses the button for me.
"dad..." i reply quietly.
"hold on, baby girl. i'll kill them all just to get to you." i scoff.
"don't." i order. there's a silence.
"rick, a word." my father says with a stern tone. rick, as i now know him, walks out, walkie-talkie in hand. i'm left alone with his son. we stay in silence, until he speaks.
"i'm carl." he says, his voice cracking. i don't say anything back. "how old are you?" he questions.
"oh, i'm fourteen." i say nothing again. "did you... like them?" he nods at the comics. i nod at him. he smiles at me, but i don't smile back. "my dad, he... he just wants your dad to stop."
"he won't." i say, breaking eye contact.
rick walks back into the room.
"well, your dad... ain't givin' up control. so you're stuck with us until he does."
"when's my next meal?" i ask, my stomach churning in pain.
"not soon." rick replies. he then walks out of the house. but leaves carl behind with me. and he stays here. he takes some more comics out of a backpack.
"these are some of my favorites." he says, as he puts them down next to me, like last time.
"why are you nice to me?"
"because... i know what it's like when people think you're defined by your dad."
"then help me get out." i state.
"i can't. you're good leverage." he replies, a bit too honest for my liking. i scoff again and roll my eyes. "i can try my best to make you feel not like a prisoner, though. let me stay with you."
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it's been a few weeks. i eat once every three days, but it's a full meal, better than what i ate when i was free. i spend my afternoons with carl. we lay down in the king sized bed. close, but not too close. like that, we read comics together, and sometimes have deep conversations. i recently found out how he lost his eye. and why his dad hates mine with such a burning passion.
there were two men, glenn and abraham. glenn was there with him since this shitstorm started. my dad beat him to death with lucille. both of them. i'd be mad, too.
i am snapped out of my thoughts as the door opens. it's carl. he's not wearing his hat today. he has a brown paper bag on his hand. i, very noticeably, stare at it.
"i thought you'd like some food." he says.
"but i ate yesterday." he smiles as he sits down next to my feet on the couch.
"i convinced my dad to feed you everyday now. isn't that great? it'll be smaller meals, of course, but, at least, you won't be as hungry all the time." aw. i sit down and stare at him. stare at his eyes, his nose, his lips. maybe i'm going crazy in here, but he's actually really pretty, i think.
"what? do i have something on my face?" he asks.
"no. you're just... pretty." i reply, my head tilted. he blushes and looks away.
"you should eat now." he orders, and i open the bag. it's a sandwich.
while i am eating it, we have a talk. he tells me he won't be here for a few days really soon because he has to go look for some provisions. i nod as he tells me so, and he apologizes, probably because he knows nobody else cares about me enough to visit me.
i finish eating while he's telling me all about judith, his baby sister. i find it cute. i take and drink some of the water in my (water-filled) fridge and plop down next to him again.
"i brought you something else." he says.
"is it more comics" i smile.
"nope. even better." i frown in confusion. he takes out a cookie from his coat's big pocket. it smells of vanilla and chocolate. delicious. "i thought you'd like some actually tasty food." i reach for it, but he stops my hand with his free one. the feeling of his hand on mine is as delicious as the cookie's scent. we stay like this for a second.
he lets go off of my hand and i pout unwillingly. he breaks off a little piece of the cookie.
"open up." he says. i don't know why i listen to him, but i do. he places the cookie on my tongue and i begin chewing. it is tasty, but he looks tastier. we mantain eye contact as i chew and swallow. is he feeling like i am?
suddenly, his hand leaves the cookie on the little table next to the couch, his eyes never once leaving mine.
"y/n?" i hum in response. "can i kiss you?"
