"Daddy ... I got bit." Alex was breathing hard, bloodied, as she showed her father her arm. She swallowed hard, looking to the axe on his belt. "Da-Daddy .. you have to do it. Please." ( HI CYN HAVE SOME FEELS )
Rick’s eyes lower to the gruesome bite on his daughter’s arm. A split second and he feels like his heart might’ve stopped entirely, before it drops hard into the pit of his stomach. Mouth dry, vision fogged, he tries to pull himself together quickly. There’s still time to help.
He’s her father – it’s his responsibility to be strong for her, to take care of her. Even if that meant— he inhales sharp, then nods.
❝ Alex, baby, it’ll be okay, ❞ he promises. Before he withdraws the axe, he pulls the belt from under his tactical belt, unclipping and unhooking it and instead grabbing his daughter’s arm to make a makeshift tourniquet. ❝ It has be tight, alright? Just breathe, don’t hold it. ❞ His hand is shaking as he tightens the belt on her arm, reaching to pull the hatchet from his belt.