Seven's POV
———
All previous thoughts, frustrations, and grievances evaporated from my body as I stare at the bloodied man. The man who had just murdered someone right before all of our eyes. Killed a man, who despite his size, was too afraid to kill the things that were aiming to kill him.
Staring at the icy expression the man's eyes hold makes my blood run cold and my instincts kick into overdrive. His predatory stance made my fight or flight senses occur, and for the hairs on the back of me to stand on end. Flight was in no way an option for me, the obvious choice was fight. This guy should be no where near any of my people.
I reflexively bare my teeth at the crazed man, and let out a vicious growl. A huge part of me was ready to attack him, but I also know that killing a human being isn't exactly on my resume yet. Because of this, all I can do is let out a nasty growl and bare my teeth with a clenched jaw. My own gaze is feral, though it can't compare to the bloodlust look his have.
The man's hand that is holding the crowbar, twitches, as if going to or is tempted to strike me with it. But not even a second passed before I see Daryl whip up his crossbow, pointing it towards the man's head. "Let it go," Daryl says lowly, "Seven, heal." I can't see his expression clearly from how focused my gaze is, but from the sound of his voice, I can only guess he is angry and nervous.
Despite my instincts screaming at me like a blaring alarm clock in the morning, Daryl's voice presides over them. I stop my aggressive disposition, and go to Daryl's side like he told me to. Though, the anxiety and wariness I feel cannot be dispelled from me, and that much is evident. My fur stands up straight, creating a mohawk on my back while my eyes are blown wide with alertness.
Listening to Daryl is a lot harder to do than you may presume, especially when I have multiple commands absorbing my mind. Run! Or Protect! Or Kill! These thoughts never seized even while beside Daryl. There were no human emotions I had left, just simple primal instincts. After all.. this is the first time I've seen someone get brutally murdered right before my eyes.
A heavy and tense silence follows this. Rick speaks up, but to me it sounds especially loud, "Alright, let's keep moving forward." He says after swallowing a lump that had been in his throat.
T-Dog leads, signaling for the rest of the prison group to follow, but I stay glued to Daryl's side. He was my priority, and my grounding point that'd help me control myself and my instincts.
Daryl, Rick, and I follow after them, though we're a good distance behind. Far enough where they wouldn't hear a conversation kept at a whisper. "You see the look on his face?" Daryl asks, the question pointed at Rick though I could hear it loud and clear. "I ain't ever seen Seven act like that, this ain't right," He continues. I don't have any mental remarks, as I can indeed listen, but I can hardly process most of it, my mental commands plaguing my mind by storm.
"He makes one move," Rick says, hinting to Daryl.
"Just give me or Seven a signal," Daryl replies with. My own name makes one of my ears flick back, but when I don't hear a command I return my focus.
It felt like my voice of reason and my animalistic instincts were fighting each other for the seat of control. Both with their hands on the joy-stick attempting to control my actions the way each of them believe is for the best. Obviously, my voice of reason has been winning, but with the amount of struggle it's put up with, I'm unable to act like myself.
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!