Sad Rick Grimes Novels & Stories

The rottens don't appear to recognize the onslaught either, and they do not even surrender. Ricky took off when Justine pointed to a neighboring hardwood garbage can, scrambling up quite easily. He regained his composure and fired his first gunshot before even the remaining of us had even arrived at the swarm. A rotten grasping for one of the boys' feet fails, resulting in the loss of a portion of his cranium. Blood and bone shards splattered the lavatory wall, appearing thick like hazel-coconut jam. Justine then went for a partially-decomposed infected man on the group's edge.

Williams pleaded over the microphone. “Now you want to talk?” A deep laugh rumbled from Rick’s chest. “You arranged this stupid party to get me married to some bitch, I don’t even know. How am I the Alpha if I have to do what a bunch of old hags say?!?” He shouted and kept shooting until his guns ran out of ammo. Then he threw them on the floor and reached for his pockets. He took out more magazines, and he was reloading.

Mr Rick was the devil himself. The one they preached against in churches and other places of religion. "He's very loyal, Esme," Rick mused, his voice smooth as slik. "Which makes what I am about to do to him so... delicious." Rick stepped back, pulling a heavy brass key from his pocket. He didn't unlock the chains. Instead, he tossed the key onto the small corner of the room. He turned to face me, his eyes burning with a sadistic intensity that made the air in the room feel instantly hotter.

Damon's pov Sunday 4th July 2021 ***************************** I don't enjoy going to see Orion but it's a necessary evil. If I stop going Marcus will kick me out of the club and then I'll have nothing that I enjoy. I enjoy hurting people. That's really the only thing that makes me happy. I'm diagnosed with a severe form of Antisocial Personality Disorder. Which means I'm a psychopath. I lack empathy and remorse which means I have no issue in manipulating people for my own gain. All Orion's words of course, I don't see how that's a bad thing, I think more people in the world should be selfish to get on top.

They ran down her cheeks in streams. “Don’t cry,” Rick sighed. He wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, to feel her hair in his hands one last time. “I deserve to die, Mercy. I’m just happy I got to see you again.” Rick winced then and a low growl escaped his lips. His wolf was desperately trying to heal him, but the blood loss was too quick – the wolf could not keep up. So instead, the wolf was starting to die.

"I'm sorry, Willow. I know everything now. It's my fault. It's always been my fault. Can you please come back? I'm begging you—please come back." In the end, he clutched my urn tightly, his lips bloodless and his voice trembling. He sounded so humbled that it made me wonder if this was really the same Anthony who used to tell me to sacrifice myself for Maisie at the drop of a hat. "Tony, the dead can't come back. You can't keep destroying yourself like this. If Willow could see you now, I'm sure she wouldn't want you to be like this." At some point, Maisie had shown up. The familiar way with which she moved around the house made it obvious that this wasn't her first time here.

"Good. Different. Better. He is staying in Seattle. Not forever. Just for now. He likes the internship. He likes the city. He likes being close to Matthew." "That is good." "It is. He asked about you." "What did you tell him." "I told him you were sad. Not depressed. Not broken. Just sad. The November kind of sad." "There is a November kind of sad?" "There is. It is the kind of sad that comes from the dark. From the cold. From the absence of things that were there and are not there anymore. It is a reasonable sad. A sensible sad. A sad that makes sense." "And what did Rick say."

Judgment. Damon’s POV I had fought wars. I had killed kings. I had torn through armies without hesitation. But this….. This was something else entirely. Rick wasn’t an enemy on a battlefield. He was a fracture point. A man collapsing between truth and corruption while holding my daughter in his arms. That made everything complicated. And dangerous. Aurora spoke quietly. “He’s losing it.” I nodded once. “I can see it.” Rick lifted his head slightly. His eyes were red. Not from rage. From exhaustion. From breaking.

Rick threw himself over her, his body becoming her shield as rubble pounded down on his back. Something heavy - a massive piece of concrete - slammed into Rick with a loud bang. He grunted in pain but didn't move away from her. "Rick?" Valerie called out when the debris finally stopped falling. Silence. "RICK!" She tried to move, to push herself up, but his body was dead weight on top of her. Panic shot through her veins as she realized he wasn't responding. "Rick, please," she whispered, her hands finding his face in the darkness. He was breathing - shallow, pained breaths - but his eyes were closed, blood trickling from a gash on his head.

Each cry carried the weight of a name, a memory, a life taken too soon. Hugo’s shoulders sagged under the burden of leadership, the responsibility of protecting the family that looked to him for strength. Ryker’s death was a wound that cut deeper than any physical injury. He could still see it—his loyal friend and soldier, lifeless in his arms, the blood soaking into his clothes as the storm raged around them. In those final moments, Ryker’s wolf form had shifted back into his human body, his face pale and streaked with blood but filled with a quiet resolve.