You don't control me, Dixon

➊ 16: Not Even Pre Med Student in The House

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"Hey Jim, how are you? Good? Ok. I'm gonna help you with what I can. On a level of 1 to 10 what is your pain?" When he mumbles a 3 I sigh and tell him to lift his shirt.

As I start to clean the wound a hand grabs my wrist, making me freeze.

"Don't waste materials on him" Shane's cold voice sends a shiver down my spine as his grip tightens and as does my throat.

I try to pull my hand from his but his own just tightens. I start to pant as anxiety seizes me.

Flashes of my father flash my vision. I pull away sharply and whisper "Go away"

He smiles as his grip tightens to a point I know I'm gonna have bruises.

My breathing goes ragged as my dad's face replaces Shane's.

I close my eyes and shove him from me yelping "Get the fuck away! Let me do my job!"

Shane's shocked face is all I need to get back. Jim's worried expression makes me shake my head and clean his wound. That's all I can do for him without wasting everything.

"I'm sorry that's all I can do" I apologize as I finish wrapping his wound. "Let me ask you this, do you want to be put down? I'll do it so it's painless" I ask.

As he answers I pat his leg "I don't know, I'll let you know." I nod.

"I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it." I hear Daryl say, annoyed. I barely crack a smile and retreat behind the said man.

"Is that what you'd want if it were you? Or Luciana?" I flinch as Shane says my name and hide further behind the rather large man. That was the same tone my dad used.

" Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it." He responded snarkily after he looks back at me as I nod. I'd want to be put down if I was bitten. I don't want to go through that shit.

The old man that I have grown to respect this day speaks up hesitantly "I hate to say it... I never thought I would... but maybe Daryl's right."

Rick apparently isn't having any shit, as he is shaking his head before dale finished and state very firmly "Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog."

I have to disagree, technically, the symptoms are very much like rabies as they lose control of their own mind and go after the flesh, the only difference is there's foaming at the mouth and that rabid animals and humans are still alive.

"I'm not suggesting... " he meekly corrects. I feel like his words came out as harsher as he said them out loud, I wanna help.

Rick moves his hand as if he was about to place his hands flat on a table as he says firmly as his eyes dart to each person "He's sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

This is where I come in! Inhale and go-

I step out from behind Daryl to the side of the man and answer Ricks question "Yes they are sick, but you haven't seen them turn. They are in agony as the infection spreads. That little girl you shot at the gas stations I saw her turn, I tried to help. I couldn't kill her. I asked Jim what he wanted, he said he'll tell me when he made his opinion"

Daryl nods slightly at me and scoffs "The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be." Why does he always need to keep us his macho male persona? It's quite funny.

Rick the ever leader suggests "What if we can get him help? I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure."

That man still thinks that there's hope. Maybe it's pessimistic Lucy talking but I don't think theres a cure. If so what would be in?