Shawn Walsh...
For someone who was the son of a cop, he didn't exactly play by the rules, he was a uncontrollable force like a hurricane, a tornado...a tsunami.
When he was young, it was only a slight tremble in the ground, a small wind, a tiny wave...
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•°A FATHER'S TEARS°•
. . . .
SOME SAY DEATH was the worst curse, but to live was actually a far worse of a curse.
When you die... your pain, your worries and everything else goes away, but when your alive, you have to feel pain, you have to worry and something will always hold you down.
And in that moment...Shawn REALLY wanted to die. Luckily the gods spared him and at least let him pass out.
. . . .
As they descended the steep staircase, just moments away from freedom, disaster struck. In an instant, Shawn lost his footing, his foot sliding on a slick pool of blood. Time slowed as he flailed, trying to regain control, but gravity had other plans. He hit the ground hard-the unforgiving floor and a sharp rock jutted out at an angle collided with his lower back and abdomen, a sickening sensation spreading through him as the jagged end of a broken rod stabbed deep into his flesh.
"Shawn!" Merle shouted, panic flooding his voice as he rushed to his friend's side. Blood seeped between Shawn's fingers as he instinctively pressed down on the wound, his vision blurring around the edges. Groans intensified, the walkers growing closer as they sensed their prey.
"You have to-" Shawn's voice was strained, the words barely escaping his lips. "Get out of here, Merle. Just go!"
But Merle would not leave him behind. Not now, not ever. "I'm not leaving ya!" With fierce determination, he hoisted Shawn into his arms, careful not to touch the protruding rod, and carried him with strength fueled by desperation.
Shawn whimpered, eyes fluttering closed and darkness took over.
. . . .
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the abandoned road, Merle's heart raced, a wild combination of adrenaline and fear surging through his veins. He cradled Shawn's unconscious body against him, the familiar warmth now replaced with an unsettling chill. Blood matted Shawn's hair, and as Merle glanced at the darkening sky, he knew they had to move before the night brought more horror.
"Hang on, buddy," he muttered, teeth clenched, urgency punctuating his words. The echoes of the recent scuffle still rang in his ears: the snarls of the undead, the crunch of bones underfoot, and the desperate gasps of his friend. If Merle hadn't acted fast, they would have been one more meal for the ravenous horde.
Remembering Shawn telling him where Snickers was locked up, he headed towards the destination.
When he took the chains off the shed door, it creaked open, Snickers had stepped out, her coat shining dimly in the faded light, an embodiment of grace and spirit. As the world crumbled around them, she had knelt, a silent acknowledgment of the burden they carried, allowing Merle to climb on her back more easily as he held onto Shawn.
