Never Close Your Eyes

TC 🔒 : C. 43

| Chapter Forty-Three |

It was either in that moment or something worse to scar her to the point of no return. She was grateful she didn't see everything. Only heard.

"Ah, our little doll seems to know 'Dawn of the Dead', 2004."

"Now, this one I did see." Murphy smiled at the nostalgia, remembering the first time he saw it in theaters, "Scary and funny. That's how I liked my zombies."

Now, these zombies weren't 'World War Z', but some of them were close enough to it that it made everything on high alert.

"A satisfying remake of the Romero classic and a stinging rebuke of America's consumer-driven society."

"I get it; zombies as consumers driven by the mindless desire to obtain useless shiny stuff, blah, blah, bl—."

(Y/N) heard the noises of shock before she even heard Murphy's stiff cries from the electricity running rampage on his muscles. Her own body stiffened but it wasn't from the crazed collector.

He just kept holding the button, making (Y/N)'s anxiety soar. Without thinking about it, (Y/N) turned to look at the assaulter as he felt pride in what he was doing.

She went to him, shoving him away from Murphy and trying to get him to release the button. Nothing but his own shock covered his eyes as he stared down at his doll.

When he was about to shock some obedience into her as well, Murphy stayed back on his rambling.

"An-And go set it in a suburban shopping mall? Genius." Murphy quickly spoke after such waves before anything could be done to his female companion.

He owed her that. (Y/N) took her eyes off of the vengeful soul in front of her, almost looking like she was 12 again and needed someone to save her.

He knew better than that. (Y/N) didn't need saving, she saved people.

"The knowing is pretty horrifying, too." Murphy kept the conversation, never taking his eyes off the collector.

"I get the feeling you were often misunderstood," the stringy hair that needed a good clipping tilted back as he looked up at Murphy, smiling.

He seemed to have forgot that anger flashed across his face when his Rosie shoved him, but calmed down when he went back into conversation.

Murphy continued their walk down a corridor, trying to move on from the incident, "First impressions were never my strong suit. Not very good at second impressions either."

(Y/N) thought back to their first time meeting. They didn't really say much, and when they did, they were nothing short of hostile. He always had a resting bitch face, and he was the reason for her arms to be so scarred up.

She thought of him as only a mission, but somewhere in that time, she had began to put more faith in their relationship. He was terrible at first and second impressions, because he had the type of personality that just needed to grow on you.

Like black mold. The bridge had been burnt after her brother died, after Cassandra's passing. Could they attempt at being friends again?

"You are unique, Mr. Murphy. I can see you are revered. I can see you sitting on a throne dispensing wisdom of men, zombies and all that will come after men."