Don't Be Scared

S.1 E.13 ~ Doctor of the Dead (Ch. 102)

What the hell is going through his mind? Just because she made a noise of pain from me touching the wound, doesn't mean he can just bring more pain to her. I slipped the pants over her feet, but a clammy, delicate hand settled on top of my knuckles.

I followed the tan hand up to a half smiling Cassandra, "He didn't mean to drop me, (Y/N). Just like you didn't mean to graze the infection. I'm fine."

She's only covering for him, because she likes him! I denied her any kind of vocal reply and settled with replying by shrugging my shoulders. He still shouldn't have done it, even if I brought the first groan of pain from her voice.

He's the adult here!

"One."

I had the waistband of her shorts hovering over the wound, leaning my head down to make sure not an inch was close to touching the infection. 

"Two. Keep her up long enough for me to make sure I miss the wound this time." I muttered towards him, refusing to gift either one of them with eye contact.

Why am I acting like a child? Because he hurt Cassandra and Cassandra's got enough shit on her plate. We both made a mistake, though. His was just the biggest one out of the two.

"Three."

I watched as Cassandra was slowly, but looked to be better stabled than last lifting operation, lifted from the floor our bodies began to warm up during our time settled here. Carefully, and making sure to take my time, I slid the makeshift shorts over the infected thigh.

Successfully, I had wrapped the rough fabric around her hips and zipped up. She buttoned her own pants once 10K had settled her down. All three of us did it without making the mistake of touching her infected thigh.

"All done." I confirmed to everyone that was listening.

A full smile broke from my frown as I finally looked into the dark orbs of Cassandra's eyes. The emotions that orbit around the windows to her soul told me she was more than exhausted. The infection's getting worse by the minute.

Why can't everything just sit down for a moment and relax? Give Cassandra a well deserved break. She deserves it. Wait, it's the apocalypse and it works in favor of the Devil, who enjoys wrecking havoc on the survivors of the apocalypse.

"Murphy."

We all removed the spotlight from Cassandra to look over at Warren, who had called out for the experiment.

"Your scars. It looks like they're spreading." Warren finished her hook of a sentence once she gained the attention of the individual she wanted.

Concern laced every word in her sentence as her brown eyebrows dipped down in confusion. I followed her view, catching a glimpse of the ashy-colored scars that littered his back. They truly didn't look like the way human scars should look. 

The tissue looked like something from a comic book; a piece of art artists from a Sy-Fy channel dedicate their lives to perfecting.

"That's what I wanted to talk to Merch about."

He knew about the odd healing process his body was going through? I know it doesn't seem rational to get upset over this, but why didn't he tell us of these discoveries? It's not like we'd throw him out of the group; he's the reason we're even considered a group.

I shook my head at the negative reasons as to why he'd not reveal this to us sooner, not understanding his logic to this day. He should've at least given us clues that something about his physical state wasn't normal.

His mental and physical conditions are important to us. Even if it is zombie shit, he's still a friend. He may be the mission, but he's also a good friend. I slipped Cassandra's socks and shoes over her feet before tapping her good knee, praying it didn't somehow effect her bad leg.