❝HEARTBREAK IS ONE THING MY 𝗘𝗚𝗢'𝗦 ANOTHER❞
In which it no longer matters that Evangeline Waters was a hot shot lawyer with a nice apartment and the best daughter she could've asked for. Because if you don't know the right way to stab a dead...
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"I say we put a pickax in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl said, his voice cutting through the air with a grim finality.
The adults, excluding Andrea, gathered in a tense circle around Jim, who was slumped against Dale's RV. The weight of the decision was palpable, and the mood was heavy with unspoken fears and moral dilemmas. Daryl's suggestion seemed straightforward to him, but to Lily, it was anything but. Amy, she reasoned, was already dead. Putting a knife in her head would only prevent her from harming anyone else. But Jim was still alive, breathing, and the uncertainty of how his fate would unfold was agonizing.
The thought of ending a life that was still living, even in the face of infection, twisted Lily's stomach. Would Jim turn suddenly, in the middle of a conversation? Or would he die first and then reanimate? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making the prospect of killing him even more disturbing.
"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane asked, his question hanging in the air with a mix of challenge and introspection. It was a question Lily couldn't help but find profound because the reality was that any of them could find themselves in Jim's position.
"Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it," Daryl responded without hesitation, his words a stark declaration. Yet Lily couldn't help but wonder if Daryl truly meant that—if he would accept his own end with such stoicism.
"I hate to admit it, but maybe Daryl's right," Dale said reluctantly. His agreement seemed to sway the group's sentiment further towards Daryl's viewpoint, increasing the pressure on Lily.
Rick, however, resisted the notion, his face etched with concern. "Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog," he argued. The idea of putting Jim down because of a bite felt inhumane to him, a line they were hesitant to cross.
"But he will be, won't he?" Lily interjected, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and logic. "There are more humane ways than a pickax to the head. If it were me, I'd want to go before I turned into one of those things. Before I hurt someone." Her suggestion of a gunshot to the head seemed quicker, less brutal, but Rick wasn't convinced.
"No, he's sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?" Rick's voice was firm, reflecting his discomfort with the idea of deciding who lives or dies based on their condition.
"The line's pretty clear," Daryl snapped, his frustration evident. "Zero tolerance for walkers or those who are about to become them."
Rick countered, "What if we can get him help? I heard the CDC was working on a cure."
Lily's attention snapped to Rick. The mention of the CDC was new to her, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. But after the power grid collapsed, she had heard little to nothing about ongoing efforts to combat the outbreak.
"I heard that too," Shane said, his tone skeptical. "Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell."
"What if the CDC is still operational?" Rick persisted.
