Sequel to: As one. (I recommend reading that first.)
[SEASON 4 ONWARDS]
[UNEDITED]
In which the group have been split up after the attack on the prison.
I do not own any of the twd plots, scripts or characters other than my own. I do not own any GIF...
As we hopped out of the vehicle i stretched my arms above my head embracing the cold air before I pulled out my hunting knife and took a deep breath.
"Everyone ready?" Rick asked.
As we all nodded we began to split up and make our way into the compound like we had planned but before I could take one step Daryl grabbed my hand and leant his forehead against mine.
"You sure yer gonna be okay on yer own?"
"I work better on my own don't worry about me."
Nodding his head he softly pressed his lips against mine. I would have loved to continue this but it was too risky so squeezing his shoulder did I slowly pull away.
"In case something happens. Remember I love you asshole."
"I love yer too Mrs Dixon."
Smiling i pecked his cheek one more time before I made my way through the compound.
It was quite a big building with rooms and corridors that felt like a maze with all the twists and turns.
Jesus, Glenn and Abraham took the other wing of the compound whilst Rick and Daryl handled the guards. Maggie and Carol were keeping watch and I was taking care of this part of the building.
I entered the first room on the left and slowly opened the metal door to see a man who was no older than 50 sleeping peacefully on his bed. I watched as his chest rose and fall and swallowed harshly as I gripped my knife.
I slowly made my way over there, step by step, dangling the knife over his head I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes bracing myself to kill this vulnerable man who had not caused me any harm directly.
But I couldn't do it and I threw my arms to my side, huffing in frustration Until...I looked to the right to see on the wall he had Polaroids of beaten and bloody dead bodies and I made a sound of disgust.
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How could people admire this sort of shit?
These people were messed up. Like so fucking messed up.
I hadn't been quiet enough when I made a disgusted noise because the man began to stir making sleep noises, his eyes were beginning to open and I put my hand on the side of his temple as I plunged my blade into his skull.
Crimson began to stain the white bedsheets red, his lifeless body now still and quiet. He looked nothing like the people in the Polaroid pictures though. Lucky bastard got a quick death.
"Shut up." I hissed removing my knife and making my way to another room.
In the second room there was a girl who was no younger than 20 and even she had pictures of beaten bodies and the remains of human insides. These people were fucked up, and I mean seriously fucked up.
