Bitter Murmur | Abby Anderson x Male Reader

Chapter 13

Abby's eyes searched his, the anger in her expression wavering. She could see the strain on his face, the sheer effort it took to keep the horde at bay. But she was a soldier, and she didn't back down from a fight. "We can't just leave," she said, her voice firm. "We have to make a stand."

Y/N felt the whispers in his head swell, the pressure threatening to split his skull. He knew he was pushing his limits, that the control was slipping away. "Abby," he pleaded, his voice strained. "You don't understand. If I lose control..."

But she wasn't listening, her eyes blazing with a mix of fear and anger. "We're not leaving without a fight," she insisted, her hand tightening on the grip of her rifle. The walkers shuffled closer, their moans a symphony of death that seemed to crescendo with each passing second.

Y/N's chest tightened, the whispers in his mind growing to a deafening roar. He knew he couldn't control them forever, not like this. He looked around desperately, searching for any way to get her to understand. "Abby," he tried again, his voice strained. "Please, you have to trust me."

But Abby's eyes were hard, her jaw set with the same stubbornness that had kept her alive in this nightmare of a world. "We can't just run," she said, her voice like steel. "We have to fight."

Y/N's eyes searched hers, the whispers of the dead swirling in a tornado of sound in his mind. He knew she was right, that running was only a temporary solution. But the power within him was growing too strong, too unpredictable. He didn't know if he could control it much longer. "Fine," he murmured, his voice tight. "But we do this my way."

Abby nodded, the tension in her body easing slightly. "Fine," she agreed. "But if things go sideways..."

Y/N's grip on her hand tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "They won't," he promised, his voice firm despite the whispers that continued to swirl in his mind. "But if they do, we stick together. You cover me."

Abby nodded, her eyes searching his. "Fine," she said, her voice tight. "But you're not fighting alone."

The walkers closed in, their moans a chorus of hunger and pain. Y/N took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts. The whispers grew quieter, a silent nod of respect for the determination in his voice. He turned to Abby, his gaze steely. "Stay behind me," he murmured. "And do exactly as I say."

Abby's eyes narrowed, but she nodded, her rifle at the ready. The trust between them was still new, but in this moment, it was all they had. They stepped forward together, their boots sinking into the soft earth as the dead stumbled closer. Y/N whispered again, the words a gentle command that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the world.

But then, without warning, Abby's gun roared to life, the sound shattering the delicate silence. Her shots were precise, dropping walkers with cold efficiency. Y/N's eyes snapped to her, a mix of anger and fear. The whispers grew louder, the dead reacting to the sudden assault. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice tight with the strain of keeping his control.

Abby's eyes were cold, her aim unwavering. "I said we're fighting," she snarled. "And I meant it."

The death of each walker was like a physical blow to Y/N. He could feel their pain, their confusion, their final moments of existence being snuffed out. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard, the whispers in his head becoming a cacophony of screams. "Abby, please," he begged, his voice thick with agony. "You're killing them."

Abby paused in her rampage, her eyes wild. "They're already dead," she spat, the gunsmoke curling around her like a noxious cloud. "You said we're fighting."

Y/N's vision swam with the pain of the dying whispers. "But they don't have to be," he managed to croak out, his voice barely audible over the din of the approaching horde. "We can use them."

Abby's eyes narrowed, the barrel of her gun still smoking. "Use them?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "They're monsters, Y/N."

But the whispers grew louder in Y/N's head, the dead begging for his help. He knew he was pushing the boundaries of his gift, but desperation made him reckless. He focused his will, the whispers coalescing into a single, powerful command. The remaining walkers stumbled, their eyes glazed over as they turned on the ones attacking them.

Abby's shots faltered as she watched the unbelievable sight unfold before her. The walkers she'd been fighting turned on each other, tearing into their comrades with a ferocity she'd never seen before. She looked down at Y/N, his face a mask of concentration, his eyes squeezed shut.

"What the hell are you doing?" she murmured, her voice barely audible above the snarling and tearing of flesh.

Y/N's eyes snapped open, the whispers in his head now a cacophony of pain. "They were controlling me," he gasped, his body trembling with the effort of maintaining his grip on reality.

Abby's gaze remained cold, her eyes hard as she surveyed the carnage around them. "They're dead," she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion. "And we're alive."

Y/N pushed himself to his feet, his body shaking with the aftermath of the battle. "But at what cost?" he whispered, his eyes haunted. The whispers in his head had faded, leaving behind a profound emptiness that echoed with the loss of the walkers he had just killed.

Abby's eyes searched his, her expression unreadable. "What cost?" she repeated, her voice hard. "They're the enemy, Y/N."

Y/N's jaw tightened as he stared at the carnage around them. The dead lay torn apart, their lifeless forms a gruesome reminder of the power he wielded. "They were never the enemy," he murmured, his voice thick with grief. "They were just... lost."

Abby's eyes searched his face, her expression one of disgust. "They're monsters," she spat. "They don't feel anything. They're just flesh-eating machines."