The Lucky One//twd

040. Everything Breaks

Madison's POV

I stopped sleeping.

If I closed my eyes, I saw Lori's face. Not smiling. Not alive. Just cold and open-eyed, mouth parted like she was about to say something but never got the chance.

That damn cell still smelled like blood.

I could feel it on my skin even after I scrubbed my arms raw.

People talked. Around me. At me. Like I was there.

I wasn't.

⸻

I stayed out of the common room. Stopped sitting with Blake. Ignored Hershel when he told me to eat.

Carl understood. He didn't say much anymore either. We'd sometimes sit in the hallway, backs against opposite walls, silence hanging like fog.

Rick hadn't spoken since the day he found out.

He'd picked up that hatchet and walked into the prison like he was hunting death itself.

We all knew not to follow.

⸻

The Prisoners

There were five of them, locked up in the kitchen wing. Living off stale food and rats, apparently. Didn't even know the world ended.

Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog found them during a supply run. Oscar. Axel. Tomas. Big Tiny. Andrew.

Shane would've shot them the second he saw them.

Rick... gave them a chance.

That's what Rick used to do.

⸻

I knew

Something about Tomas rubbed me wrong.

The way he smiled when people looked away. The way he watched me, too long, like he was measuring what he could get away with. Like I was something to steal, not someone.

He wasn't stupid.

He waited until no one was around. Just me and Blake. Blake was half-asleep, sitting by the main gate.

I was walking back from the showers alone.

That's when Tomas followed.

⸻
It happened in one of the old staff offices.

I felt it before I saw it — that chill. The kind of silence that means you're not alone.

He blocked the door before I could turn around.

"You're always so quiet," he said, smiling like he thought it was charming. "Bet you've seen some shit, huh?"

I didn't answer. Just stared.

"Girl like you," he went on, stepping closer, "gotta be strong to make it this far. I like that."

Still, I said nothing.

But my hand slowly slid to the blade in my waistband.

⸻

He didn't touch me.

He didn't get the chance.

When he reached for me, I struck — the blade flashed, quick and low. I got his thigh first. He stumbled. Roared.

I ducked under his arm and slammed him into the filing cabinet. The metal screamed.

Then I was on him.

I don't remember how many times I stabbed him.

I just remember the blood.

Sticky. Warm. Covering my hands. Spilling across the floor like red oil.

He gasped. I didn't stop.

Not until he stopped moving.

Not until my arms started to shake.

⸻

Blake found me

I heard him shout my name.

Then the door flew open.

He froze when he saw me — crouched over Tomas's body, hands shaking, blade dripping.

"Madison," he breathed, stepping forward slowly. "What the hell—"

"He followed me," I said, voice flat. "He wasn't gonna stop."

Blake looked at the corpse, then back at me.

He didn't say anything else.

He just took off his jacket and gently wrapped it around my shoulders, hands careful not to touch the blood.

I didn't move.

⸻

Rick and Daryl showed up next. I heard Glenn's footsteps, too.

Rick didn't ask what happened. Didn't need to. Just looked at the blood, the blade, the expression on my face.

"You did what you had to," he said.

But the look in his eyes said something else.

Like he saw something in me he hadn't wanted to see.

Something that reminded him of the man he was becoming.

⸻
I scrubbed my hands raw again. The blood was gone, but I still felt it. In the cracks of my skin. Beneath my fingernails.

Carl passed me in the hallway.

"Was it bad?" he asked.

I paused.

"No," I lied.

He nodded. Then we both kept walking.

Like it was normal.

⸻

Blake tried

He found me in the watchtower later, sitting with my knees to my chest, eyes locked on nothing.

"You okay?"

I didn't answer.

"Madison."

I finally looked at him.

His eyes were soft. Like he still saw someone worth saving.

"You should be scared of me," I said.

"I'm not."

"You should be."

He sat down beside me, quiet.

Didn't say anything else.

Didn't try to touch me.

Just sat there.

And somehow, that made it worse.