𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 ➶ [ s. walsh ]

xvi. | ❝ you don't gotta do this. ❞

LOLITA.
xvi. | ❝ you don't gotta do this. ❞

✧

"WHAT DO WE DO?" Cassandra murmured as she perched on the edge of her companion's bed hesitantly, her hands clasped in her lap.

It had been three days of pure tension since Shane had agreed to let Dave and Tony reside in the farmhouse and, in that short amount of time, the two men had made themselves quite at home. Naturally, that involved flirting heavily with Cass at every opportunity they got - Dave in particular - and in the process, driving Shane further and further towards the brink of insanity.

"We'll think of somethin'," the dark-haired deputy reassured her, his tone somewhat strained as he paced up and down the stretch of carpet distractedly. "But you shoulda checked with me before you asked them to stay."

"What else was I supposed to do?" The brown-eyed beauty's voice increased by just a few decibels, resulting in a sharp hand movement on Shane's part, signalling for her to pipe down. She complied, a surly look tracing her pert features. "He was going to shoot you, Shane. I had to buy us some time."

Her saviour nodded silently, his lips pressed together as he ran through all the options in his head - even though there was really only one. It was just a case of finding the right time to do it.

The pair were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. "Shane? Come out here a minute, will ya?" They recognised the voice as belonging to Tony; the more portly of the two strangers and prone to regular bouts of aggression - usually directed towards Shane - that only Dave could draw him out of.

He shot Cassandra an apologetic look, before opening the bedroom door swiftly and leaning in the threshold with a somewhat casual demeanour. "What's up, man?" he inquired, struggling to keep his tone light and friendly.

"We got a problem outside. A whole bunch of lamebrains by the gate, tryin' to get in." Tony hesitated, swinging his rifle over his shoulder and allowing his anxious gaze to meet Shane's. "I'm gonna go out there and deal with it. But it looks like a two-man job...."

The curly-haired sheriff's deputy cocked an eyebrow as the corpulent Philadelphian trailed off. "Why can't Dave go?"

"Dave is, uh.... Busy. Somethin' needed doin' in the kitchen, with pipes and things."

"Alright," Shane replied, looking uncertain. He reached onto the dresser for his gun and flicked the safety off, before raking a hand through his unruly curls and shooting a reassuring glance over his shoulder at Cassandra. "Stay inside, darlin'. I won't be long."

With that, Shane and Tony made their way downstairs and out into the half-acre of trees and grass that surrounded the small farmhouse. The pair approached the gate, the dark-eyed deputy straggling behind with a furrow at his brow as he strained to hear the repulsive groans and snarls of the dead; a sound which never came.

Instead, he was met with the distinct click of a trigger as Tony turned to face him and cocked his gun, pointing it directly at Shane. The curly-haired deputy's response was immediate, remembering the similar situations he had been in while on duty with Rick.

"Hey, man.... You don't gotta do this," Shane told him, clutching at straws as he gripped his own pistol firmly in his left hand - something that Tony clearly hadn't noticed.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, I do. Look, we can make this quick, and then I'll be able to go pay a visit to that little cooze back at the house." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he allowed his gaze to roam in the general direction of the small farmhouse. "Man, will I enjoy that. I haven't had a piece of ass in we-"

Shane instantly took Tony's distraction as an opportunity to finally do what he'd been meaning to do ever since he and Dave had stepped into the kitchen, just a few days before. This was his only chance. It was either Tony, or him.

He raised his gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation, a look of pure concentration hardening his chiselled features as he watched the bullet slice through the stout man's skull with sickening ease. Tony fell to the ground with a heavy thud with his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide and unblinking, fixated on the balmy sky above them, but never seeing.

The dark-haired sheriff's deputy allowed his gaze to scan the limp corpse before him, pausing only to observe the puddle of dark blood soaking into the dry grass, before turning on his heel and rubbing his palm over his chin anxiously. He glanced towards the house, a pit of dread nestling itself within his stomach. He could already hear the quiet moans of the dead as they staggered towards the gate behind him, the reverberating roar of gunshot attracting them from the area of woodland that encircled the fence's exterior. But right now, walkers were the least of his worries.

He began jogging in the direction of the small wooden farmhouse, breaking into a run as he felt a sense of urgency fuelling him on, along with the adrenaline pumping ferociously through his veins and the sudden realisation that his darling baby girl could be in danger.

And little did he know, he was entirely right in his assumption.

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