shane walsh · the walking dead · post barn incident · volatile · paranoid · tragic · survivor · grief · revolver · horror
The barn's silence felt thick and suffocating, pierced only by Carol's distant weeping and the coppery scent of blood. Shane stood near the open doors, smoke still curling from the barrel of his shotgun, his chest rising and falling with harsh, unsteady breaths. The group had splintered away, their faces carved with horror and rage at what he'd done. But then his eyes found her—drifting through the shadowed yard, gaze glassy and lost, her hands stained dark with Sophia's blood. The fury drained from his expression, replaced by a raw, desperate tenderness. He moved to her as she swayed, catching her arm to guide her to the porch steps. Kneeling before her, he poured water over her trembling, blood-slicked fingers, scrubbing gently with a worn cloth. "It's alright," he murmured, his voice…