Another Word for Desperate
A/N: Based on the idea that Carol's advice to Andrea (about killing The Governor in his sleep) was based on personal experience. Could fit into canon. Let me know if you think I should continue this or leave it as a one-shot! ...it would turn Caryl if I continued.
Song listened to: "Another Word for Desperate" by Straylight Run
Each groan of the floorboards beneath her feet felt ten times louder than normal as she paced around the room, gathering clothing items that had been torn off in Ed's hurry to get her to bed. A few buttons had popped off her sweater, but it was nothing she couldn't repair with a needle and thread, given the chance.
She pulled on a housecoat over her rumpled clothes as she crept quietly into Sofia's room, careful not to trip over Ed's shoes that were left in the middle of the hallway.
"Sofia baby, wake up," she whispered, lightly shaking her daughter's shoulder.
"...Momma?" her little baby mumbled, wide blue eyes slowly blinking open.
Carol leaned over the bed and smoothed the girl's blonde hair back from her forehead. "Shh, Honey. Put your shoes on. We're going for a little drive."
Sofia yawned and rubbed at her eyes, sitting up with reluctance. "Right now?" she asked in bewilderment.
"Right now," Carol whispered, "And if you can be extra quiet, I'll get you some ice cream."
Immediately all traces of tiredness were gone, and Sofia clambered out of bed to put on her tennis shoes. As soon as the laces were tied, Carol grabbed her daughter's hand and led her down the stairs, careful to point out the steps that would make the most noise.
"Go wait in the Cherokee out front, okay Sweetheart? Lock the doors as soon as you get inside, and don't make a peep," she ordered quietly, passing Sofia the key.
"Which one's that?" she whispered.
Carol pulled back the curtains on family room window and pointed to the beat-up yellow box of a car, the one easiest to access in the sea of unattractive vehicles Ed was so certain he could fix up. As the owner of a successful car dealership, they had more take-homes than the man could actually do anything with, not that Carol would ever find the voice to complain. Where her hydrangea garden once grew, the rear wheels of a rusted sedan sat.
"I love you, Momma," Sofia said, letting go of her hand.
Carol took a deep breath and whispered back, "I love you too, Sofia."
She watched as Sofia went out the front door and picked her way across the front lawn, pausing to scratch her leg. Only when she was safely inside the car did Carol leave the window.
She walked slowly to the kitchen. It felt like the walls were closing in as she approached the knife block on the counter, her vision warped as though she were looking through a fisheye lens.
One large French knife sat gleaming in the moonlight, the blade coated in sticky tomato juice from meal Carol had prepped for dinner. She cradled it delicately in her hands for just a moment, eyes roaming the shape of the edge and spine. She stroked a finger across the point, testing it for sharpness, and found it to her satisfaction.
Her breathing became shallow as she took each step back toward the master bedroom. It was as though she could feel Ed's dark presence all around her, and it destroyed every good thing that ever came into her life.
The booze had taken full effect and the monster was snoring like a great beast's growl. Carol was ready.
She hated the claustrophobic feeling of his massive sweaty arm slung over her body as she tried to sleep at night, the weight of it painful against her bruises. She hated the way he made her feel like she was worthless, like she was nothing without him. She was determined, as she gripped the hilt of the knife, that this would be the last time.
Sweat ran down her forehead and her hands trembled, her breath leaving in short, wispy gasps.
"I hate you," Carol whispered, glaring down at his bare chest, the swirl of hair that grew right over his breastbone, "I hate you."
A tear dripped down her cheek and a quiet sob escaped her. The police would know it was he. She would go straight to jail. Then who would look after Sofia? Her sister was the only other family she had, and she was in no condition to take in her baby girl.
Ed's face was warped in a disgusting frown in sleep, drool oozing down the side of his mouth.
Ed was just a man, and he was not worth going to prison.
Carol let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and lowered the knife to her side. Then she turned to finally leave this house behind her.
"Where are we going?" Sofia asked.
"Somewhere safe, Baby," Carol replied, her mouth set in a grim line of determination.