𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

Solace

- Cass's POV -

"C-Cass?" Spencer stutters, his suddenly wide eyes flitting up and down my figure, his mouth agape.

The fiery rage inside me intensifies as I lock my gaze on him, breathing evenly through my nose. The audacity to show his face here after what he's done is infuriating.

Spencer's gaping mouth slowly pulls into an amazed smile, only deepening my irritation.

"What are you doing here." I demand shortly, my voice cutting through the tension with unwavering harshness, my gaze cold. Surprise flinches across Spencer's expression, making me clench my jaw in sheer frustration.

As if I would just welcome him back with open fucking arms.

"Cass," Daryl starts from beside me, his voice tinged with concern, but I quiet him with a raised hand, not breaking my stone-cold gaze on the bastard in front of me.

"Rick shot you." I snap harshly, my voice severe enough to make Spencer visibly flinch. Narrowing my eyes, I continue. "You're supposed to be dead." I remind him sternly, making him avert his gaze, looking down at his tattered jeans.

"...I should be." he replies quietly, before slowly lifting his gaze to meet mine, deep regret and vulnerability behind those backstabbing eyes. "It was a good shot, given the distance, but it just went through my shoulder," Spencer explains gingerly, his dirt-caked hands fidgeting on the table.

But even then- he should have bled out. My brows furrow in confusion, and Spencer notices, making him sigh, seeming to try to find the right words to explain.

"Phi- Brian was involved with a woman at our camp who was a nurse. She came to the prison that day because her daughter had died- because of what Brian made them do," Spencer begins carefully, his voice tinged with sadness as he recalls what seems to be painful memories.

"She wanted to confront him, but her timing was off. She got there after everything was over and saw me, bleeding but a-alive in the grass." Spencer mutters with a gulp, his hazel eyes darting between me and Daryl's expectant expressions.

"She fixed my bullet wound and without her, I wouldn't be alive." Spencer finishes, his eyes filled with raw emotion, remorse etched in the lines of his face. Rolling my jaw, I exhale slowly to suppress the burning rage in my chest.

"So where is this woman now then?" I question shortly, tilting my head to the side, carefully observing his expression.

Spencer falters slightly, averting his gaze. "I lost her. A w-walker came through where we were camped, and she-" his voice cracks and he stops, staring at the wall, his eyes tearing slightly.

"Sympathies." I mutter flatly, clenching my jaw tightly with aggravation, deep anger still simmering beneath my skin.

With furrowed brows, Spencer looks up at me, his hazel eyes darting across my stone-cold expression, searching for a hint of sympathy that he won't find.

"What... happened to you? This isn't you." Spencer murmurs with genuine confusion as his eyes roam my appearance. Taking in my tightly crossed arms, my hardened, unwavering gaze, and my once-loving expression now replaced by what must be an unsettlingly emotionless mask.

Unable to contain my aggravation any longer at his words, my patience finally snaps. With an abrupt step forward, I slam my hands onto the table, making Spencer jump back in surprise. My gaze boring into his, I lean closer to the traitor, every ounce of my irritation radiating into the charged atmosphere of the room.