Everyone dies eventually. That is one of the many things that Carl knew. What he didn't know was how unexpected the consequences could be if it was your fault. There are always consequences for the actions you make, he knew that, but he never expected them to be quite as harsh as this time.

Carl walked back to his house with unshed tears in his eyes knowing that it was his fault that Olivia and Spencer were killed. If he wouldn't have been so stupid and just stayed back away from the sanctuary, then maybe, just maybe they would still be alive. Maybe Negan wouldn't have come back to Alexandria in rage. He also noticed how much his father had been drinking lately. Every night, his dad would pour himself drink after drink and get piss drunk. It was becoming something short of a routine.

As Carl made his way up the steps of the front porch, he could hear his dad and Michonne shouting. He leaned closer to the door and heard that they were arguing about him. They were fighting because of what he did. All because of his stupid mistake. He knew it wouldn't be long until he was drug into the middle of it.

Knowing this, Carl opened the front door as quickly and as quietly as possible, and as soon as he shut the door, he made a dash for his room upstairs. He really didn't feel like dealing with his fathers wrath tonight. Keeping this in mind, he silently shut the door to his room behind him in an attempt to keep his fathers anger at bay.

He could hear the argument downstairs as he laid on his bed, silent tears falling from his eyes. Carl eventually heard Michonne storm out of the house in a fit of rage, being thankful the argument was finally ending. Carl knew that he could not hide from his dad forever. The inevitable was going to happen, he just didn't know when. His dad would ask him why he did what he did, and he would get a stern talking to about why what he did was wrong. That is how it usually went.

Carl didn't even know he had drifted off until he woke to the sound of his dad banging on his door to let him in.

"Let me in now, Carl. I just want to talk." His father growled from the other side of the door. Carl knew he had only one choice if he wanted this to go smoothly, and that was to do as he was told.

Carl slowly rolled out of bed as he heard another bang on his door. He made his way over and opened the door, revealing a drunk Rick. Oh boy, Carl thought. This is going to be a long night.

The second Carls door was opened, his dad came barging in and started yelling at Carl, pointing a finger in his face.

"What in the hell were you thinking?! What the fuck was all of that about? We're you even thinking when you decided to play big boy and shoot up some of the Saviors? Are you out of your god damn mind?!"

Carl was shocked at his dads actions. He never cursed and got in his face like this. He was too good of a dad for that.

"Now look at us. Short two more people because a stupid kid couldn't think about others. Oh right. You're too selfish to think about anyone but yourself. It's all about what you want. You wanted Negan dead, but you didn't think about what he might do to others before you tried to murder him!" Rick screamed at his son.

"Dad, I-" was all Carl was able to choke out between tears before his dad interrupted him with more yelling.

"You what? You're sorry? Is that what you want to say? Well, I don't think that you mean it. You are too self absorbed to be sorry for something you did. I want you to think real hard before you go out and try to play Billy Bad Ass again. I want you to think about how you got Spencer and Olivia killed. I'm ashamed of you Carl. You're mother would be ashamed of you." Rick hissed at his son as he saw a mix of anger and sadness flash in his eyes.

"Y-you d-don't know that! You don't know a-anything!" Carl shouted at his father. Carl was just about to say more when a fist landed itself on Carls face. "Who do you think you are?! You don't yell at me, boy!" Rick spat at his child who recoiled back, a mix of blood and tears running down his face.

Carl had no idea who the man before him was. It was definitely not his father. His dad would never do such a thing to him, Carl thought as a white pain spread through his nose and face. He looked down at his hand that was now covered in his own blood, then slowly raised his head to meet his dads eyes with his own.

"Y-you j-j-just h-hit me." Carl stared blankly as his dad was searing with anger.

Carl was just about to tell Rick to leave his room when his dad spoke first. "I think it's time for you to learn a lesson, boy."

Rick was on Carl so fast he didn't even have time to defend himself. This is getting out of hand, Carl thought as he received the first blow. Ricks fist made contact with Carls face multiple times before Carl was able to get a hold around his father's throat in an attempt to get him to relent.

Rick was skilled in fights due to the fact that he was a Sheriffs Deputy for many years, which gave him the upper hand. Rick then threw the bleeding boy to the ground with a loud thud before there was an ear ringing crack.

Carl had never felt so much emotional and physical pain in his life. His dad, the person who bandaged his cuts and went to his baseball games when he was little, was now beating the ever living hell out of him on the ground. The agony from the pain in his arm, which he knew was broken, was almost unbearable. The wail of pain that he let out was so loud, that he was sure every walker in the whole state heard it. He started to get dizzy from all of the pain and blows to the face. His once stitched eye socket was now torn open and bleeding, sending waves of agonizing pain through the side of Carl's head.

Carl was sobbing on the ground when his father gave him one last devastating punch to the stomach which caused Carl to vomit all of the food he had eaten that day onto his bedroom floor. Rick began to rub his now bleeding knuckles when Carl groaned on the floor, in too much pain for his body to handle.

As his dad started to walk out of his son's bedroom, he mumbled something Carl could barely hear. "So tough now, you piece of shit." And then he left, shutting the door behind him.

This only caused Carl to begin dry heaving onto the floor, ashamed of himself and angry at his father. Maybe I am weak. Maybe he is right. I'm too selfish. All I will ever do is get people killed, Carl thought.

Carl was able to pull himself up so that he was sitting he on the floor, leaning against the wall. He looked before him at the mess of blood and vomit on the floor, which made him sob and cry even harder. He was sure people couldn't hear everything that happened, but he didn't care. His dad didn't love him anymore. He beat his son up like some thug on the road.

This is when he began to feel his head swim. He didn't really know if what he was seeing or feeling was true, but he just wanted someone there who loved him. He wanted Michonne. He began to cry out for the one person who could offer him comfort, because right now, he wanted to die.


Michonne decided that there was only one place she could go after her argument with Rick earlier. As she walked up to the front door of the large house that belonged to Carol, she heard a loud scream from the direction of her own house. She decided that it was nothing, and right as she was about to knock on the door, there was loud yelling that came from the same direction.

Knowing that Rick was already pissed off and Carl should be home at any time, she made the decision to head back home to spare Carl the trouble of a heated argument. When Michonne entered her house, she saw Rick seated at the kitchen island with a glass of whiskey in his hand. She saw the blood stained bandage across Ricks knuckles, and asked him what had happened to his hand.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just got pretty frustrated and punched a wall earlier." Rick stated, slurring his words.

"It doesn't look like nothing Rick. Here, let me-" Michonne stopped in her tracks and listened more closely. She could hear a slight whimpering, and someone calling her name. "What the hell is that?" Michonne said as she marched upstairs to the source of the noise. Rick however was hot on her heels to block her from entering Carls room.

"What the hell, Rick?! Let me in there right now." Michonne growled at Rick. "No." Was all he had to say.

"But he's crying for me in there. What the hell did you d-" Michonne was cut off by Rick who was quick to defend himself. "I just taught him a lesson, that's all." Rick shot back.

Michonne was just about to dismiss this and walk away when she heard Carl cry out for her one more time. "Okay, Rick. He needs me in there. You know Carl. He never cries like this."

Rick refused to move from where he was standing.

Michonne had no other choice than to shove Rick out of the way and barge into Carls room, where she was met with something she could have gone her whole life without seeing.

Carl, her baby, was curled up into a ball on the floor, laying next to a small puddle of blood. He was violently sobbing, with his face hidden in his arms and chest. Michonne looked back at Rick with horror in her eyes before approaching Carl.

As she bent down to touch Carl, he looked up at her with the most broken eyes she had ever seen. Then she saw his injuries. His nose was definitely broken. Dried blood marked his whole lower half of his face from where it came out of his nose. His once healed and stitched eye socket was now torn open, the red and pink flesh inflamed and bleeding. The whole right side of his face was bloody from the wound. Small cuts and bruises littered his face, as tears soaked his once proud and smiling cheeks. His arm was what she noticed next. About a quarter of the way up his forearm was a large bump, threatening to break the skin.

Carl was shaking when Michonne pulled him into a tight embrace, not caring if she got covered in blood or tears. This was her baby. Her baby boy was beaten by his father, the person who was supposed to love him the most. As she softly whispered reassuring words to Carl, she looked over her shoulder and saw that Rick was no longer standing in the doorway. He was gone.

Right now, she didn't care about anything but getting Carl some help. Michonne bent down to pick Carl up to get him to the infirmary, not realizing how heavy he truly was. She lifted with all of her might, making her way out of the door.

Oh boy, Rick is going to get it later.