Seven ➳ d.dixon's dog

t h i r t y - e i g h t

Quite more often than usual do I feel Daryl petting my head while we walk to our next destination, but I don't really process or think into it much. I wasn't aware of just how worried he was of me and my instinctual demeanor.

Not long into our excursion out into the prison, we come across a new door. Of course I couldn't see what the room was for until the back of the line made their way into it, but I was able to process that the room was a laundry room and it was safe. At least.. no walkers that is.

The group and I surrounded the door, and I can faintly hear keys jangling from behind me. The sound having to have come from Rick or Daryl though I don't bother to look as my eyes are once again trained on the murderer.

The keys are thrown past my head and to the murderer's feet. Even though my gaze was most concentrated on the man himself, I could still see the shiny keys out of my peripheral vision. "I ain't opening that," The hispanic man says. His eyes glance down from the keys to me, and then back up to Rick and Daryl behind me.

"Yes you are," Rick replies with, without hesitation. "If you want this cell block, you're gonna open that door. Just the one, not both of them. Because we need to control this," He continues in his.. leader tone.

I watch carefully as the man leans down in front of me to pick up the keys. His eyes are suddenly trained on me while he does so, apparently finding the look I am staring at him with to be intimidating. Once his hand is close enough to the keys, he snatches them, scared I may rip off his hand or something if he touched them.

The hispanic man goes over to the door and attempts to unlock it with the keys. Once we hear a click he turns to look at us, "You bitches ready?" He asks, though I cannot even come up with a witty mental response. Hell, I can hardly even be grounded right now, my instincts are beating my conscience so hard right now.

The man continues to struggle opening the door, it being jammed shut. He looks back at us, feeling the judgmental looks the others are giving him. "I got this," He tries to persuade.

Unfortunately, he was right. Both doors came flying open, and a stampede of walkers started to walk through. Uncontrolled. "I said one door!" Rick yells, while bracing himself for the incoming walkers.

The walkers on top of the murderer within the room makes my instincts go hay-wire. My conscience is getting pummeled now and my entire body is driven by instinct.

I've lost control.

All I can process is myself ripping apart flesh left and right. I'm not sure who's or what's blood is in my mouth anymore. All I know is that I'm protecting myself and my group.

Every now and then I can vaguely being called out, but it sounds like I'm underwater. In an endless sea of instinctual power that is consuming me. I was no longer Seven.. I was just a feral dog.

When it was over, and I'd fully regained my senses, it was a blood bath. My mouth, all the way down to my chest was coated in blood, making it a darker and sticky black. My tongue, painted in the vibrant red that was littered on the floor, has a metallic taste. My frame trembled from the mentally and instinctually induced adrenaline. I pant heavily, my body simply being tired from the events of the day. Not to mention my lack of sleep because of the creature I saw in the forest.

Fuck.. I was scared. I was scared to turn around and see the reactions of my people. I couldn't care less about the prisoner's. But most of all.. I was scared of Daryl's reaction.

Daryl was the man and human who I looked up the absolute most to. For me to.. to ruin any respect he may have previously had for me. Or even our entire partnership. It will destroy me.

But I also know that I can sit here facing the barren doorway forever. So, ever so slowly, I turn around with closed eyes, wanting to see all of their reactions at once as well as what I had done.

When I opened my eyes, to say the least, I was absolutely horrified with myself. Surrounded by many walker corpses was the hispanic man who had murdered Big Tiny. His throat seemed to be ripped out and still bled, far beyond repair. While his eyes remained open but showed no signs of life.

Though the worst part, was seeing my group's reactions. All three, T-Dog, Rick, and Daryl's faces or eyes held a sign of mistrust when looking at me. They didn't seem to show any signs of hostility towards me.. they just.. didn't seem to trust me anymore.

Just like that.. it felt like the bond I had worked to create had shattered into millions upon millions of pieces. My heart hurt, with a deep emotional pain I never knew I could feel.

Except I knew what I had done.

I was a killer.

———

Hello! Sorry for having such a late update and a short one at that. I didn't mean to take a break, I sorta got caught up personal things but everything is fine now! In addition to that.. I can FEEL my motivation dwindling down. So please, show me a lotta love on this chapter. I really need it, especially considering you guys are my motivation for writing.

Regarding the chapter itself.. uh. I absolutely did not plan for Seven to go ballistic and kill Tomas, it just sorta happened. Oops.

Thank you!