Any way you looked at it, the mess on the floor held your stare. Every which way you tried to scrape and pry your eyesight from it- you couldn't.

Bones and blood, gore splattered across the ground and across the open shelves. The images of your former friend, now hunter, tearing at the thief was ingrained in your mind- picture after picture of nothing but terror and hunger.

Yeah, you could have stopped him.

All you had to do was give him a tug on his chain- force him backwards.

But you didn't.

You watched.

The guilt gnawed on your head the same way Ted's screams rang in your ears.

That small part of yourself felt like he deserved it- he had tried to steal from you! He knew what was coming for trying that!

But the more you reasoned, the more you thought on the fact that he was still a human. Killing infected is one thing, but killing something that you can still reason with, and joke with... that's too far off your surprisingly still white moral scale.

Stock still on the ground, you spent the rest of the night. Even when a few strays that were drawn from the screaming wiggled their way through the window. No move did you make to grab your gun and kill them, but hey- at least you had your guard dog!

He uh- he killed the strays too.

Even though he wasn't hungry.

He left their bodies strewn on the floor, shreds of them spread around and mixing with a half eaten Ted.

What if he came for you next. Was one of your many depressing and cynical thoughts.

With the lack of focus you had, you simply sat there as the hunter trotted back to you, rubbing his chin onto your shoulder and effectively smearing blood all over your arm. His throat rumbled with a familiar growl- the one that was higher pitched, and almost akin to a jovial and happy sound.

He couldn't be happy.

He was infected.

It wasn't until morning began to come in through the window that you finally stood up, packing the tarp back into the hunter's bag and wobbling on your feet. Vaguely, you recognized the squelch of your boots in the blood.

You glanced it over, before a sick feeling passed you and you emptied your stomach on the floor. Nothing but acid- your granola bar didn't last long. Several minutes of simply staring at your own puke, and you finally flicked your gaze away.

Yes, Ted's body was blocking the exit.

You'd have to inch your way around it. If you could.

You really didn't want to though-

Just looking at it made you sick.

Taking the first uneasy steps forward, you began walking toward the exit, carefully stepping around your own puke, before stopping just in front of the body.

You couldn't take your eyes off of it, glued to the claw marks that ran crisscross along the tatters of his shirt and torso.

One deep breath in, and one deep exhale out, your breathing came out in heavy sighs. Long, and slow, with a hard heave of your chest.

Surely, the feet that were moving were yours. Surely, the falter in them was not.

One last puff of air through your nose, and you pushed forward, steeling yourself against the smell of decay and blood.

The hunter's slow pace beside you offset the eeriness, the pad's of his hands sounding almost gentle as you walked past the body, and neared the exit. In a way, you supposed it was calming. A gentle lull of footfall. The grumble he let out was even softer, as if feeling the tense shake of your hand against his chain.

You hoped you weren't walking yourself down a path of dependency. Dependent on the calmness he brought with him, despite the havoc he wreaks with every fleshy throw of his crimson covered claws.

But against your will, you felt yourself resign to whatever fate you made for yourself. Dependent on knowing that your friend, infected and forgotten within the depths of the hunter's mind, was the only thing keeping you from loosing yourself in this whirlwind of an apocalypse.

Stopping once you reached the window, you stood silently. As much as you would have liked to ignore daily hygiene, you needed to clean out your hunters wounds, else they get an infection. Coincidental considering he's infected.

Turning ruffly to the hunter, you knelt down and pushed his hood back.

His green eyes were already looking at you before you pulled his hood back. The murky depths felt too intelligent. Too inquisitive.

Pulling your backpack down, you began to rummage for the peroxide, pulling out a rag while you were at it.

He watched complacently, eyes half lidded as he blankly looked to you.

God, you wished he would stop staring.

Bringing the dowsed rag up, you began cleaning out the gouges under his eyes. He flinched, hissing out a garbled growl of pain. His fingers tense, but he doesn't resist your touch.

Silently, you finish cleaning, taking one more moment to look at his face. Greasy hair still looking the slightest bits fluffy, and face emotionless.

"Jeeze..." you sighed, "You need a shower."

Hypocritical, as you both needed one. Bringing a hand up, you ran a quick swipe through his locks, observing his expression.

His eyes squinted as you did that, lips giving a small twitch just as you touched his scalp.

You didn't want to deal with this, not this early, so with a quick motion, you flipped his hood back on, before standing up from your crouched position.

Legs aching, you stood for a moment to gather yourself, looking to the door and taking a few uneasy steps toward it.

So, with no sleep, an empty stomach, and the putrid burn of acid in your throat, you started off, tugging with half the enthusiasm you could have had.

The small bell at the door jingled as you left, the click of your hunters claws following from behind you.

You felt claustrophobic, in a sense. A strange mix between the guilt closing in around you, and the hunter from behind making you wish you could go back to your old life, in your old room, and in your old blankets.

Your stomach grumbled sorely, yet you didn't stop for food. With the images still in your mind, you'd probably just puke again.

Walking, walking, more walking- a drift of thoughts passing you by. You faintly remembered thinking you were all but immune to the sight of blood now, but apparently not when its someone you had become acquainted with.

The walk passed in a dull haze of your own remorse.

When you finally reached the right street, you took a left turn, looking down the street and seeing a billboard next to a store.

'ENDLESS DISCOUNTS!!' Was as far as you read before glancing around the store from a distance for infected. You could have been more careful in checking, but you didn't even bother to glance into the alleys.

Padding to the door, you pushed it open, door squeaking and bell jingling. Food- you needed it, but did you really need it right now? Did you really need to keep up the thin and wet sheet that kept you alive?

The familiar grumble of your friend sounded, claws ticking gently as he lumbered in through the door you had held open and been staring at for the past few minutes.

Right.

Ahem.

Food, that's what your aiming for.

Huffing a breath, you walked in, feeling the customary and gentle brush of his shoulder against your leg.

At least some things will never change. Even if they weren't as reassuring as you currently needed them to be.

God you wished your siblings were still with you. Anything to help you cling to your humanity.

Pondering existence was a dangerous thing to do, but you continued to wander and think on such things. The aisles of the store felt long as you drifted them, boots clunking with your apathy.

You didn't flinch when an infected cried out, standing up and running towards you. He was pounced on, dug into quickly, and killed.

Turning the other way, you heard your companion follow after you, the sounds of his steps a white noise as always. Several more cried out, darting towards you. They fell as did the others.

In spite of everything, you felt a twisted sense of safety. The infected were too dumb to reason that running triggers jumping. They couldn't reach you.

By the time you got around to clearing out the store, morning was over, and the afternoon sun was held high above the city. You sat in the back of the store, backpacks filled with the new abundance of food. It'd last you a good week, which should have been comforting, but again, you were wallowing in your own self pity.

With nothing else to do, you pulled out a bag of skittles- the ones you had found near the cash register- and began eating.

A bad breakfast for a bad state of mind, though it did ease your pain a slight bit. Slight.

Your hunter sat crouched an inch away from your shoes, staring at you intently. The blank look portrayed by his mouth was ominous as always. The shadow and the blood from previous kills all but sent a shiver down your spine.

You needed to clean his wounds- as to not let them get infected- but sitting there, a hand full of skittles in your mouth, and a hand full of skittles in your hand, you didn't quite mind procrastinating.

In your own annoyance of his blatant staring, you flicked a skittle at him, watching as it hit his hood before falling to the floor.

A curious one he was, stooping his head down to sniff at the candy you tossed.

As you expected, he licked it off the floor, crunching on it for a few seconds before swallowing. Honestly, you were expecting a bit more of a reaction from him. Against all odds you supposed that maybe sugar would make him do anything other then stare and growl.

Unfortunately, he did just that, staring, growling, before placing a claw closer to you.

A different growl from the usual ones. Strange, long and, drawn out.

Deep? You supposed, but all of his growls at their base were deeply toned, so you couldn't find that to be the proper way to describe it.

An in between of high and low growls, silky- one that almost implored you to take a gamble and so much as twitch your fingers.

You choked on your spit when you drew its resemblances to that of a whine.

Another hand closer to you, and at this point he was beginning to hover over your legs, tips of shoes meeting, and hands either side of your knee. He tilted his head to look at his chain, before flicking his head back to observe your face.

Was he expecting you to push him away by then? Because the more he stepped, the more you began to want to shove him. You felt uncomfortable to have him almost on top of you like this, even if he held his own weight up.

Better yet- you should. Who knows when he'll target your throat.

Reeling, you shoved his shoulders, forcing him back to his spot at the edge of your shoes.

His lips curled into a frown, one that you found surprising to be there.

"Oh what- are you mad now?" Your eyebrows furrowed deeply, and you couldn't stop the snarled tone that came out, "Deciding on whether or not I'm lunch? Because that's real shallow of you."

The next look he made had you questioning if you really were hallucinating.

A snide look stretched his frown farther, canines becoming visible as he opened and closed his mouth with a sharp click. If someone didn't know any better, it was almost akin to a mute, two year old child trying to argue that bedtime wasn't meant to be at seven.

The annoyance he seemed to be trying to convey being shocking considering he's... infected.

You openly gaped at him, staring as he finally shut his mouth and simply frowned at you.

That freaking monotone hunter- who suddenly got sassy- just sassed you. Sassed you.

By clicking his teeth. Teeth.

Huffing, you did the same as he did, clicking your teeth and making sure it was audible.

His frown lessened a smidge after you did so, claw tapping the floor several times.

Being the being of resistance he was, he made his way back to you, this time taking heed of your personal space, and instead crouching next to your hip instead of over it.

You reluctantly let him keep sitting there, side eyeing him for the longest time before shrugging off his observing.

Down the hatch goes another hand full of skittles, and again, you heard that grumbling coming from him. The weird low pitched whine from before.

You ignored it, waiting until he stopped to stuff another hand of sugar down your gullet.

He whined as you did so, and by now you could guess why.

Flicking another skittle at him, your eyes followed him as he scurried around to catch the round candy.

The bags under your eyes felt dense, any wiping and rubbing you did failing to keep them from dragging your face downward. Did you think that if time went back, things would be different?

Would you have held the chain back?

The saliva in your mouth made you gulp, eyes squinting with your frown and emotions spiking. You felt like an asshole- a prick who didn't care about what happened to other people.

And you didn't care.

That's what scared you.

Clenching your teeth, you drug the palm of your hand down your face for the umpteenth time, letting out a groan of displeasure. Screw feelings. Skittles is life.

Shoving another hand of skittles in your mouth, you chewed, glancing up when your hunter growled before flicking another candy at him.

By the time you finished the bag of skittles, it had to be at least twelve o' clock, but with all the rain clouds out, you couldn't be sure.

The gloomy overcast seemed to only accent your bad mood.

Shuffling around to get more comfortable on the floor, you thought back on the memory- the corpses laying ever so limply, narrowing in on what used to be Ted.

Your hunter tried to paw at the empty bag in your hand, clearly begging for more sugar, so you tossed the plastic at him, watching him rip the bag up. His disappointment was silent and he stared at the ripped shreds with a frown.

Your legs were beginning to feel achy from sitting on the ground for this long. The numb feeling the both of them felt was a surefire promise that they fell asleep.

Huffing, you stood up, almost stumbling when you couldn't feel if they were stretched or not.

Standing there for a moment, you felt your hunter's chain wiggle as he silently crawled around.

"Let's get a move on." You spoke, ready, and feeling much more confident now that you've had time to ponder on everything that's happened.

A few quick and consecutive steps forward, and you were met with resistance. The chain tightened around your hand, and the hunter remained firmly where he sat.

Stopping, you looked to him, squinting your eyes, "Come on. We need to keep moving." Your voice came out grittier then expected.

Still, he sat, lips in a firm frown of displeasure.

Rolling your head and eyes, you huffed, giving the chain a tug. He moved an inch or so, but on his haunches he remained.

"Ugggghh- come on! We need to-" you froze mid sentence.

Not because you had wanted to.