Seven ➳ d.dixon's dog

t h i r t y - n i n e

Seven's POV

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Blood drips down my chin either straight to the floor or trickling down my chest. A small puddle forming from where I stand over the man I'd brutally killed. My fur feels damp in the places where the blood of my victim stained it, making my dirty black coat shimmer with the thick crimson liquid.

I didn't dare look down at the man dead at my feet. That's because now matter how horrified I was with myself, nothing topped the distrustful and disappointed look that my group had. Especially Daryl. God. Why. Why. WHY.

My mind was spiraling down a steep slope, but before anything could get worse within my own mind, I hear a war cry come from behind me. "Ah!" I spin around to see Shorty with a bat raised, about to crack down on my skull with the wooden prop.

I don't bother to dodge it, allowing for the fate of myself to be up to the others. Just like slow motion, the bat is lowered to me at a quick pace that felt very long to me. I close my eyes, bracing for the impact though they once again fly open when I hear a scuffle.

Opening my eyes I see Shorty on the floor with a fearful expression, looking between me and no other than Rick. Before anybody can do anything, Shorty is getting up and taking off down the tombs to who knows where. "I got him," Rick calls out, following after the man.

I take a step, to go follow after Rick considering I'd be a lot faster and better at tracking than him but am stopped by Daryl. "Seven, stay," He commands harshly while pointing his crossbow at Walmart T-Dog. My ears pin to the top of my head and I bow my head. His words felt like acid against my skin and heart, feeling almost physically painful to me. His tone being more harsh than usual, especially to me. "Man, get down on your knees," Daryl then commands, waving his crossbow at the ground to signify what he is trying to get across. Dollar Store T-Dog does as he says, slowing getting on his knees while putting his axe down and his hands up.

While Daryl does that, T-Dog points his own pistol at Mustache Man. Mustache Man seems to get that he should follow after his friend, though doesn't get that he's being held at gunpoint. "We have no affiliation to what just happened. Tell him, Oscar," Mustache Man says, trying to convince Oscar to back him up. It was nice to finally have a name for the face, though I didn't bother to try and think up some snarky remark.

Oscar, seeming to get the hint a lot better than Mustache Man says "Stop talking, man." This thoroughly silenced everyone in the room while we wait for Rick and possibly Shorty's return.

It was quiet. Too quiet right now for my liking. Not because I felt like something bad was going to happen.. but because I could now listen and drown in my own thoughts and worries. I gulp, looking down at the man's throat where his blood had stopped flowing out. The taste of it was still fresh on my tongue and the feel of it on my chest.

Killing someone is bad. But I'm more worried about how my actions will affect the way I and others think of myself. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the blood continue to trickle down my chin. I open them again to look up at Daryl, who every now and then will cast his angry look towards me. A new wave of anxiety had begun to form in the pit of my stomach after seeing how just these three had started to look at me. What- what are they gonna do with me?

My biggest worry was the possibility of being exiled from the group. It wouldn't be the first time the person I loved the most cast me away. After all.. the lady who first took care of me did that.