Keep Holding On ♥

Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth was off in her own little world, and she found herself enjoying quite the wonderful dream. In it, she was simply cleaning up after what appeared to be lunch with her mom. It was all normal, and they were chit chatting like they always did. Her mother thanked her, Beth welcomed her, and then Beth went off to explore the farm. After heading off to the stables to greet her favorite horse, Hollie, who was a caramel colored stallion, she decided to roam back out to the boulder underneath the willow tree where she once spoke with Daryl. She could see him from where she sat, working hard like he always did in the blazing sun. She smiled, remembering the small chat they had while they sat there. As she looked up to the clear sky above, she found herself wishing that things would always be this way. Peaceful, serene, and filled with nothing but happiness and joy. After a moment of being this way, she could hear her brother Shawn calling out to her.

"Hey, Beth!" He waved over to her, jogging to meet with her. She still had a smile on her face, but it faded as soon as she saw the expression on his own. "Shawn? What is it?" She questioned, for she could now see how wide his eyes were. He looked completely terrified. "I-It's mom," he stammered, pointing back to the house. "S-She--" he continued to say, though Beth didn't need to hear anymore. The entire place was crawling with the undead - the walking corpses that she saw on the news. "Mom!" Beth shouted as she made her way back to the house. However, it was too late. All she could make out was the kitchen floor covered with her mother's blood. Pieces of flesh were scattered about, and some of the undead were eating it. Meanwhile, her mother lied there, motionless and tattered. "M-Mom.." Beth began, completely frozen in shock. It was then that she felt her brother roughly push her aside. "Beth, watch what you're doing!" He shouted.

There were zombies all around them.

"Shawn!" She cried out, but all of the walkers around focused their attention on him upon pushing Beth out of the way. They got a hold of him, and he didn't have a weapon. She watched as they literally bit him, as though he wasn't human, but just one chunk of meat. "Shawn!!" She continued to cry out, but then her father came inside and dragged her away. "We have to leave, Beth! Come on!" He ordered her, but she felt like a lifeless rag doll as he pulled her out of the house. They began running, but Beth was so out of it that she ended up tripping. "Beth!" Hershel cried out, and Beth just looked behind her helplessly as she was suddenly surrounded by walkers. No.. She thought, feeling her entire body seemingly grow cold. No.. She shut her eyes tightly as one of them grabbed her by the arm roughly. Tears began welling up in her eyes, and the last thing she remembered seeing was the grotesque, pure white eye balls staring her down.

Thankfully, that sight was soon replaced with Daryl's handsome face.

As he gently shook her awake, she took note of that soothing sensation rather than the one she imagined whenever the walker took a hold of her. She slowly looked down at his arm that gently shook her, taking note of the comforting rugged texture she found herself developing an affinity for. She didn't even realize that there were tears actually welling up in her eyes until she blinked a couple times, and they fell down her cheeks. "O-Oh," she stammered out in surprise, wiping them from her face quickly. She hoped that Daryl hadn't seen them, though he probably had. Forcing a smile back unto her face, she attempted to push the gruesome nightmare she just had aside. It started off so nice, too, she thought to herself as she let out a soft sigh. "Is it time to go?" She called out, her voice still slightly fatigued because she just woke up. She let out a soft stretch, brushing some of the blonde hair that had come loose from her ponytail in her sleep aside.

"Was I asleep long?" She questioned, slowly sitting up as she gazed over at Daryl. She felt refreshed thanks to the nap, though the dream she had unnerved her quite a bit.
 
Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
Tears?

Daryl felt a strange pang strike his chest with the weight of a train wreck, and in the instant it collided with the depths of his heart it had disappeared mysteriously once again. He helplessly watched her wipe the stains of her sleepy sadness away from porcelain cheeks, trying not to stare too long in fear of blowing whatever cover he thought he had. Daryl pushed himself to his feet and pulled the towel off from thick shoulders, tossing it on the bed across the hall where he'd been allowed to sleep.

"Is it time to go?" she asked with that singsong voice of hers, light and airy though thick with weariness. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans.

"Just about," he answered. "The old man told me to take a shower and get ready. So I did. The sooner we leave, the better. Thought I'd let you sleep a little bit longer though, you know. 'Cuz you didn't get much last night."

"Was I asleep long?"

"Nah. Just a few hours. It's only ten right now." Daryl removed his hands from the denim and retrieved a small gray Hollister jacket, what he judged to be Beth's, and tossed it to her. "Do what you need to do," he advised. "Don't be longer n'five. I'll be in the truck."

He said nothing else to Beth as he pushed open the screen door, meeting the summer breeze with grace and pressing forward through freshly mowed grass. He yanked open the steel door to a sherbert-colored heap and clumsily gathered together empty beer cans and used cigarette butts. He hastily threw all of them, the evidence of his and Merle's damnation, in a small plastic bag and tossed it in the back of the truck to hide forever behind spare tires and old boards for some other use long forgotten. Satisfied with the makeshift cleaning he had done, Daryl set about the final task that seemed just as necessary. Unhatching the glove compartment and propping it open, the hired help pulled a Smith and Wesson 500 from the small space and stashed it in the back of his waistband.

Can't be too careful, he thought in justification as he climbed into the driver's seat of the old Chevy. The old man said I've got precious cargo after all.

Daryl would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
 
Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth nodded in response to Daryl's statement, a soft smile coming over her face as he stated he wanted to let her get a little more sleep. He's more considerate than he lets himself come off as, she couldn't help but think, though she refrained from saying such words out loud. She listened as he went on with speaking, stating that she had just been asleep for but a few hours. It felt like forever, she thought to herself with a delicate shrug. Maybe that's 'cause I was so tired, she assumed, her pale blue eyes widening in surprise as Daryl tossed one of her gray Hollister jackets to her. "Do what you need to do," he stated as he began making his way outside. "Don't be longer n'five. I'll be in the truck." She watched him disappear beyond the screen door, and she obediently began getting herself ready. First things first, she wanted to brush her teeth. She had already taken a shower earlier that morning, so there was no need for that. She did want to give her face a nice wash, though.

Once she finished cleaning her pearly whites, she splashed her face a couple of times with cool water. Even though she was well awake, she needed a little more of a push to get the thought of that awful dream to disappear. Afterwards, she patted her face dry with a soft towel, and she gazed into the identical set of pale azure eyes reflected in the mirror before her. Beth still looked a little tired, but that was to be expected. A few hours definitely wasn't enough to sustain a young teen like herself, but she could make do. She decided to just think of this as another day she stayed up too late studying or something. That thought now set in place, she began to feel a little better. With ease, she slipped into the gray jacket that Daryl had given her, and she made a few adjustments to her ponytail. It had come a little loose and tousled in her sleep, so she needed to fix it up a little bit before she felt prepared to head out. Not wanting to exceed her five minute limit, she quickly made her way outside.

"Alright," Beth began as she approached Daryl's trusty old truck, "I'm ready." She offered him a small smile as she made her way into the passenger seat, buckling up. With a subtle sense of curiosity, Beth's bright blue eyes took a look around the truck. It's cleaner than I expected it to be, she found herself thinking, feeling a little guilty at the thought. She didn't think Daryl was a total slob, but it did appear that he had a more rugged, edgy touch. She didn't take him for the clean type, though his truck wasn't exactly spotless. There were many objects and materials that Beth couldn't help but wonder what the use was for, but Beth refrained from asking about any of it. Perhaps it was just a "man" thing. "Does the radio work? What kind of music do you listen to?" Beth asked, glancing over at Daryl with another one of her innocent expression. She glanced around for any evidence of CDs and the like, though she didn't see any.

If he's livin' in Georgia and workin' with us on the farm, maybe he likes country. Though, he is pretty edgy.. Maybe he's a rock kinda guy? She wondered, catching a glance of the AC/DC shirt he sported. She nodded in approval, a small smirk on her face. Yep. Definitely a rock kinda guy.

 
Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
"Whatever's on," Daryl replied to her question with little interest, revving the engine to life and turning the truck around to face the road. He didn't say much to Beth as they made their way down busy intersections and crowded streets. They passed the occasional speeder who drove with desperate rage, trying to reach the freeway ahead of any others seeking to leave the state. More than once, he shouted obscene language and threw up his middle finger at any who sought to barge his own path toward the nearest convenience store per Hershel's suggestion, though he wasn't entirely oblivious to Beth poking around the car with her eyes. The smell of beer and cigarettes was still eminent despite how long he'd kept the windows ajar to air out the scent. Giving in, he eventually lit one of his own cancer sticks and drew from it, blowing smoke to the outside.

This ain't no time to be self-conscious. She's just a kid.

The silent ride came to an abrupt end in a rather raucous, chaotic manner, when Daryl pulled up to Henderson's Grocery & Home only to find nothing but frantic pushing and shoving, shouting, a greater shopping massacre than the worst of any holiday. "Holy shit," Daryl muttered, watching an older man carrying a case of water have his purchase stolen right from his hands, two women arguing violently over a cart of non-persishables and a police officer trying to break up a group of men that had come to blows in the center of the parking lot.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

"Alright, listen." Daryl turned to Beth and made sure she met his gaze and held it. "We're gonna go in that store, get the things on your old man's list and haul ass outta here. Understand?" He pulled the gun from his waistband to show it to her, glistening metal in the sunlight. "Stay close. Don't go wanderin', this can only shoot so far." Daryl shoved the Smith and Wesson back in his jeans, ejecting himself from the truck and waiting for the teen to follow suit. If he wasn't so sure that they needed the supplies, he would have turned the truck around completely and found some other place to retrieve all that Hershel needed. But the place still seemed somewhat safe--chaotic and unpredictable maybe, but Daryl had certainly encountered worse and was never one to back down from a task given to him. When Beth was at his side, he kept a hand at her back and led her slowly into the store, keeping an eye out for any threat that would directly interfere with the task at hand. He grabbed a cart with his spare hand. "Keep a hold on it," he ordered her. "Your dad'd skin me alive for losin' you."

It didn't take long for the duo to toss all they needed into the plastic cart, avoiding trouble left and right through arguments over boxed food and other valuables. Daryl took it upon himself to remind Beth that whatever happened around them was none of their business, and if she wanted to make it out in one piece she would have to follow his isolated lead. Batteries, food, water, propane, spare clothes, supplies for the animals; Daryl had to be forceful to take what he needed at times, thwarting a threat made to himself or Beth by informing the assaulting party that he was carrying a weapon, but from that point onward the fights were kept to a limit.

"I think we're done," he said after a half hour of forcing through the masses of panicked citizens. "Better get goin' before--"

A piercing scream ripped through the chaos, followed by sounds of gore.
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth shrugged in response to Daryl's uninterested, "Whatever's on," response. There goes that opportunity for conversation, she thought with a gentle sigh. With that, she flipped on the radio, and it was playing your average country music. With a small smile, Beth listened to it in silence, spending most of the drive looking out of the window at the passing scenery. She noticed a few cars speeding past them, which would take her pale blue gaze off of the grass and trees and back to the road before them. She noticed that Daryl had a small bit of road rage due to this, but it was completely understandable. If she were him, she'd probably flip them the bird, as well. She was taken by surprise, however, whenever she saw Daryl light up a cigarette. So he was smoking the other day, she realized, for she had seen him put out something on the ground the day before. It hadn't clicked then, but it did now. She didn't quite know what to think of it, so she pushed the fact aside.

Everyone has their bad habits, I suppose, she thought with a shrug.

Soon enough, they arrived at the market that Beth's family frequented the most. Henderson's Grocery & Home was always a very relaxed store, for not many people visited unless there was some sort of sale going on. It was quite out of the way, so Beth was taken aback at the scene unfolding before them as they pulled up. A man got bottled water he just purchased stolen from his very hands, people were fighting over some items, and more. Beth's eyes of light azure widened at this, and she pursed her lips together in unpleasant anticipation. This isn't going to be easy, is it? She thought with a sense of dread, though she was knocked back to her senses as Daryl called out to her. "Alright, listen." He spoke as he turned his gaze over to her, and she obediently looked back towards him. She was slightly intimidated by the way he held his stare, but she didn't look away. "We're gonna go in that store, get the things on your old man's list and haul ass outta here. Understand?"

Just as Beth was about to respond, her pale pink lips parted halfway, Daryl pulled out a gun from his waistband. Her eyes widened slightly, and she immediately pursed her lips back together. Her irises reflected the shimmer the metal gave off in the sunlight. "Stay close. Don't go wanderin', this can only shoot so far." He stated, and Beth only offered him a rapid nod in response. She took in a deep breath before getting out of the car, feeling like she was fixing to enter a war zone. Henderson's was complete and utter chaos at the moment, though Beth decided to go ahead and think of it as a sale of sorts. Yeah, a sale is just going on. People are just freakin' out over the new items and low prices, she nodded again to herself, taking a small bit of comfort in the way Daryl placed his hand on her back. She felt protected and safe as she walked beside him, though not in a way that made her feel suffocated. All in all, she was starting to relax a bit.

She watched as he retrieved a cart with his spare hand. "Keep a hold on it," he began, and she obediently grasped onto it. "Your dad'd skin me alive for losin' you." He spoke, and despite the seriousness in his tone, Beth couldn't help but let out a gentle, breathy laugh at the statement. "He would, wouldn't he?" She stated, shaking her head gently as they began making their way through the aisles. As her family stated earlier that morning, Beth was quite the quick shopper. Daryl was on par with her speed, as well; perhaps even a bit faster, for he was just tossing things in the cart as quick as he could. Every now and then, they'd run into a bit of a quarrel with other customers over some items. Beth felt like her breath got caught in her throat at these moments, but, where her words failed, Daryl spoke in both of their steads. She was thankful for this, though she was also beginning to feel a little frustrated with herself. Why am I so useless? She couldn't help but think.

"I think we're done," Daryl stated as they went over the list of everything they needed. It took about a half hour just to get those few items, much due to the unnerved folks filling up the store around them. "Better get goin' before--" He began to say, though he was interrupted by the sound of a blood curdling scream. "W-What was that?" Beth stammered out, beginning to peep over the corner of the aisle they were currently in. It was then that she saw a woman holding a box of food, though there was a man hovering over her. He didn't look quite like a man, though. His skin was a ghastly grayish hue, and his hair was in complete disarray. It almost looked as though his entire body was decaying. However, what got to Beth the most were his eyes - those ghostly, fully white eyes without an iris or pupil to be seen. It was then that the nightmare Beth had came rushing back to her, and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to keep herself from trembling.

"D-.. Daryl--" She began to say, though she felt her breath get caught up in her throat again. It was then that she noticed another undead enter the scene, and everyone began running about the store in complete and utter panic. "D-Daryl--!" She spoke again, backing away from the edge of the aisle she was at. "Two.. Two of them--" She began, swallowing hard. "The things we saw on the TV.. They're here!" She spoke, turning her eyes back over to meet his own. They were as broad as the afternoon horizon, wide with confusion and fear. "Wasn't this supposed to just be in the north? Why are they down here in Georgia?" She questioned, her voice quivering along with her bottom lip. She had no idea what to do, for everyone was fleeing for the exits. One person actually pushed past her in the aisle, almost knocking her over. Before she fell backwards, she reached out to grab something - that something ending up being Daryl's shirt.

She yanked on it slightly, bringing her body back upright. "Ah!" She cried out upon the impact, her body going from falling backwards to flinging forwards into Daryl's own. Her face was buried into his shirt for a moment, though she quickly backed away as soon as she regained her balance. In a flustered, fearful, and even slightly embarrassed and ashamed fashion, she hooked some stray strands of her blonde hair behind her ears.

"W-.. What do we do?" She asked, her tone soft yet unnerved as she hesitantly looked up into Daryl's eyes.

 
Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
Panic rose like lava through the simple country store, and all desire to scavenge needs and necessities was lost to the drive of survival. Daryl and Beth were jostled and shoved this way and that through the chaos, and for an instant he felt panic in his heart come to a boil as he temporarily lost sight of a blonde head in the crowd, but the tragedy was averted as he felt the pressure of her slamming against his chest. Beth was clearly shaken and shocked, a look of terror nesting itself in bright blue eyes, yet he allowed the trepidation to subside as she appeared unharmed.

"W-What do we do?" she stammered.

"Run." He let go of the cart and pushed her carefully toward it, retrieving the gun from the back of his jeans and cocking it into firing status. "Take the stuff and go for the truck. If I ain't there in five minutes don't wait for me!" He pulled the keys from his pocket and tossed them to the teen before making a mad rush across the aisles, down various paths and through the hysteria of the masses. Most had fled the area which granted him easier movement to reach the woman who had screamed, and Daryl continuously cursed himself for the mistake of leaving Beth to her own devices when there could clearly be more of the infected awaiting her near the truck. But if there were more out there, we'd've known already. He took that small thought as a small sign of comfort.

Any feeling of relief fell rapidly through his fingertips.

The two creatures parallel to the ones he'd witnessed through reports in New York and Boston, the manifestation of the sins of man, feasted on the woman who had screamed such a short time prior. Tendons and organs were shredded and smothered the floor in scarlet, lodged in the creatures' teeth as blood dripped from dead skin. He gripped the gun in fear he might drop it, taking a slow step back, unable to capture an immediate reaction that seemed appropriate. "Wh...what the fuck," he stuttered, more whimper than words, and the dead lifted their decaying heads to bring Daryl as their target. The right course of action seemed clear, then. He lifted the gun and fired twice, shooting both in the head and standing in vexated distress. Wide eyes observed the scene a moment longer, memorizing every detail despite how little his stomach could handle it, but there wasn't much time to investigate. He heard a second scream come from the outside, a voice he recognized. He instantly ran over the piles of gore and burst through the now shattered glass to the outside, searching frantically for the girl he possibly had sent to her doom.

Beth was pressed against the side of the Chevy and an empty cart, the back of the truck filled with its contents. A stranger's hand gripped her shirt as he raised the other to strike her.

"Beth!" Daryl shouted, lifting the gun again. "Let 'er go or I'll kill you, ya hear me?! I will kill you!"

"Shit!" came the stranger's curse, and he ran off with nothing but his own fear. What he was trying to do with Beth remained a mystery--touch her, take her, steal their possessions, it made no matter. Daryl frantically rushed to her side and made sure she was alright with nothing but some stares and and a pat on the shoulder.

"Get in the car," he ordered. "We're leaving. Now."
 
Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth watched Daryl with careful eyes as he took out his gun and told her to run. Even though he seemed capable enough, she was still reluctant to leave him in the store by himself. "Take the stuff and go for the truck. If I ain't there in five minutes don't wait for me!" He stated before rushing away from her and leaving her by her lonesome. Before she could utter out a single word of protest, he was out of her sights, and she reluctantly swallowed down her hesitation and quickly bolted for the front door. She ran with the cart ahead of her, trying her best to avoid hitting other people in the process. By the time she was outside, most of the people in the store had fled, so it wasn't too hard for her to get to the truck. She quickly began unloading everything, throwing them all into the back. As she finished getting everything settled, she allowed herself to take a breath, though the subtle relief she felt immediately disappeared once she heard the sound of gunshots echo.

"Daryl!" She shouted out, finding herself turning away from the truck and towards the store. It was then that she could hear a small ruckus going on behind her, for a man had begun to rummage through the back, attempting to take some of the items. "Hey, stop!" Beth exclaimed as she approached him. "Sorry, but this is ours!" She stated, trying to sound as firm and stern as she possibly could, though her voice still slightly trembled. Hearing that, the man simply smirked and stalked towards her with diabolic intent. "A little thing like you tellin' me what to do? I don't think so," he began, his voice deep and raspy. With pursed lips, Beth attempted to find some courage. With as much bravery as she could muster, she shoved the man away from the back of the truck, putting her body between him and the items. "Go!" She shouted, her voice a little more steady that time around. Irritated and mad with the chaos erupting around them, the man snapped at Beth.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" He shouted at her, approaching her and leaving but inches between them. It was then that he gave her the look down, a sinister grin beginning to form over his chapped lips. "You are a lil' looker, though," he began, letting out a chuckle that sent shivers down Beth's spine. However, she pushed her fear aside, replacing it with irritation and frustration as she smacked him right across the face. "Leave!" She shouted again, though this made the man rage at her even further. "You bitch!" He spoke, pulling at her ponytail and tugging her head backwards. She let out a scream at this, and it made the man laugh. In a panicked flurry, Beth shoved at the man with all that she had, knocking him off balance for a split second. She hit his arm, making him release her hair, and she bolted for the passenger's side of the truck. He caught up to her, however, pushing her up against the side of it as he took a hold of her shirt.

Just as Beth shut her eyes and prepared for impact, she heard Daryl's voice. "Beth!" He called her name, and she reopened her eyes and set them on his figure. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave. "Let 'er go or I'll kill you, ya hear me?! I will kill you!" He spoke sternly and surely, holding his gun and aiming right at the man. From one look at Daryl's face, one could tell that he meant business. While Beth found herself relieved that he came to her rescue, seeing him like that also struck a little fear in her. The fact that he seemed to ready to kill someone sent shivers up her spine. His not so idle threat worked like a charm, though, for the guy let out a curse and scurried away. "Get in the car," Daryl ordered after making sure she was okay. "We're leaving. Now." He stated, and Beth nodded rapidly in response, breathing a little heavily after what she just went through. She quickly made her way into the passenger's seat, buckling up and taking a moment to catch her breath.

For a moment, she was left there in complete and utter shock. She almost forgot to hand Daryl back his keys, though she quickly gave them to him as soon as she remembered. After the old truck hummed back to life, Beth brought her knees up to her chest, placing her feet on the edge of the seat she sat in. She hid her face in them, as if burying them in her shame. I could have been seriously hurt if it wasn't for Daryl, she thought to herself, remembering how she couldn't do anything but wince and wait for the man to hit her. She felt like a complete good for nothing, and the subtle sense of depression was beginning to sink in. She was starting to feel the strongest urge to cry, and it took all she had to keep the tears from falling. I'm so pathetic, she thought to herself, hugging her knees tightly as she attempted to keep the tears at bay. A small sniffle escaped her, though, and she secretly hoped that Daryl couldn't hear it.

I hate this. I hate it.
 
Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
Daryl gripped the steering wheel with such strong intensity that his knuckles paled under the stress, his teeth clenched and his heart felt like dead weight within his body. He couldn't think more than a few feet at a time, forgetting the turn signal, forgetting to stop for red lights, all memory of how to properly function seemingly cast away on the whims of the living dead. In a fit of rage, Daryl slammed his hand on the wheel and shouted indistinctly at the top of his lungs, an indignant cry that ended with cracks in his tone.

"I couldn't save that damn girl," he muttered, and his jaw clenched. "I was too late. As fuckin' usual." And that was all he was willing to say on the matter.

He turned at the junction onto the Greene property, driving through the open gates and up toward the hueless farmhouse. Daryl slammed on the breaks and forced the car into park, yanking the keys from the ignition and tossing them carelessly on the floor. He hastily broke out of the car and grabbed the bags of Hershel's request, fuming, storming across the yard and dropping them angrily at the old man's feet.

"Take your damn shit," he shouted in pure vexation. "Be thankful we got any of it, and be thankful we got out with our fucking lives."

"Hey man," Shawn spoke in his father's defense, putting a hand on his shoulder in attempt to calm him, but Daryl interrupted him and immediately shrugged off the touch. He jabbed a finger toward the truck where, in Daryl's mind, Beth sat weeping and curled up in his passenger seat. "Beth was attacked. I saw a woman get eaten alive by two dead things, and you're tellin' me that some batteries and water was worth all that?!"

"What's going on here?" Annette called from the deck, having heard the shouts from within the house, but Daryl was seething with too much anger to address her properly.

"Oh, nothin," he barked. "Jus' get back to your cookin' and cleanin' and pretend nothin's happening here, like all y'all are. Happy go luck in a world gone to shit. Fuck that. I ain't doin' nothin' and waitin' to get eaten alive."

Daryl stormed back toward the house, moving past Annette Greene without offering her any sort of acknowledgment. It was unclear what he intended to do--looking for his brother would be redundant, as regardless of what happens in the world he'd still be behind bars. Driving out of Georgia was unsafe since the whole damn plague spared nothing in the country, or the world by Daryl's understanding. He went into the guest room and snatched the crossbow from the floor as well as his small bag of things, exiting the house once again and ignoring the shouts of protest from everyone.

He would spend the night out in the woods if he had to, or at least hunt something to bring to the table. The plan wasn't important. What mattered was that the tempest within his heart and mind calmed somehow, some way, and he lived long enough to see someone smile again.
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth didn't take one look towards Daryl out of the fear of him seeing her tear filled eyes. All she wanted was for them to dry, but they were defying her wishes with all their strength. However, she did peep over her knees whenever she heard the sound of his voice again. "I couldn't save that damn girl," he began, and Beth couldn't help but notice that his tone was filled to the brim with remorse and vexation. His jaw was clenched, and his knuckles paled with how hard he was gripping onto the steering wheel. "I was too late. As fuckin' usual." He continued, and Beth lifted her head a little more. Her pale pink lips parted slightly, and she found herself wanting to say something - anything - to help him feel better. Still, despite this overwhelming desire, Beth was at a complete loss for words. There wasn't anything she could possibly say to make any of this better, and she knew it. She could feel a lump growing in her throat; a lump that always came when she was holding back crying for too long.

Hanging her head in shame once more, Beth hid her face in her knees as she finally let the tears flow.

Even though they had finally reached the farm again, Beth was reluctant to get out of Daryl's truck for a moment. She kept her face hidden in her knees until the tears decided to stop flowing like a river. She didn't want her family, or anyone for that matter, to see her this way. They'd only want to suffocate her with protection even more, and she was beginning to grow tired of feeling so useless. I hate this! She continued to scream over and over in her mind. She was sure Daryl felt the same way, even though he had protected her from being attacked by that man. Beth didn't have nearly that much under her belt, and it made her chest ache. She felt like a total good for nothing, and the sobs just kept stacking on top of one another. The shouts coming from outside of the truck didn't make it any better, for she knew that Daryl and her family were probably getting in another tiff. She couldn't quite make out their exchange of words, but she could hear the frustration in their tones.


After a good few minutes, the ruckus quieted down, and Beth soon heard a knock over the passenger window. "Bethy?" She heard her mother's soothing, gentle tone. It swathed her in reassurance, though, right now, she didn't have any desire whatsoever to feel better. She found herself just wanting to wallow away in her sorrows, though her mother's voice made that difficult. She hesitantly looked over towards her, her tear stained cheeks now painfully visible. Her mother offered a simple smile, not saying anything more for a moment. She merely gestured a backwards wave, as if telling her to come to her. "Let's go inside," she coaxed her, and Beth reluctantly, but obediently, obliged. She unbuckled herself, stretched out her legs, and then opened the passenger door. As soon as she was back on ground level, her mother wrapped her arms around her tightly, and Beth could feel a subtle tremble coming from her. "Oh, my baby girl," she spoke, her voice barely above the volume of a whisper.

This gesture only made Beth want to cry even more.

With tightly pursed lips, Beth wrapped her arms around her mother, squeezing her tightly. "It's alright, darlin'. You're safe now," Annette reassured her with the kindest and most comforting sense of sympathy. "You're safe now," she repeated once more, and a few sobs escaped Beth's lips. "I-..I was so scared," Beth admitted underneath her breath, burying her face into her mother's torso. Annette gently stroked her beloved daughter's hair, trying to calm her down despite the fact that she was trembling slightly herself. The thought of losing her daughter, and now knowing the fact that the undead were far closer than everyone thought, sent shivers up her spine. However, knowing the role Beth needed her to play, she tried her very best to remain stable. After a moment more of their soothing embrace, the two of them finally made their way inside. Annette gave Beth a reassuring pat on the shoulder before giving her a gentle push towards the stairs.

"Go ahead and get some more rest, sweetheart," she suggested to her kindly. "You've had a rough day."

With a nod, Beth continued to obey as she made her way over towards the stairs. She looked into the guest room before she did though, and she noticed all of Daryl's things gone. This made that ache return to her chest, though she found herself unable to blame him for taking off again. With a heavy sigh, Beth made her way up the stairs and back into her room. She didn't even have the energy to ask her family what happened.

Instead, she allowed sleep to take her away once more.
 
CHAPTER TWO:
PRISONERS
Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
Days passed, birds chirped above him, a warm breeze blew and the groans of the dead trampled over them all.

Daryl reloaded his crossbow with the few seconds he's spared, plunging forward into the mass of undead that collected around the gates of the West Georgia Correctional Facility. With the driver's door of the old Chevy wide open, he leapt out of his seat and let the adrenaline do the work, all while what was once Bon Jovi blasting over the radio switched to a barely audible emergency broadcast.

"...refuge in Atlanta....Fort Benning....please........stay in......disaster....."

He ignored it all. Daryl let loose an arrow that dug into the skull of the nearest walker, shouting through air that was thick with the smoke of fire from the prison ahead. "Merle!" he cried as loud as his voice box permitted, whipping the face of another undead and using the crossbow as a club. "Merle! Merle, where the hell are y--"

The explosion rippled through the ground like a tsunami upon the land, so hard it knocked Daryl clean off his feet and shoved him on his back. He scrambled to catch a glimpse of the brick prison and form a plan of action in the back of his mind, but it was far too late for such wishful thoughts. Bathed in wrathful flame, half of the building was reduced to nothing but rubble as the heat of the fires licked the fuel lines and slobbered on chemicals in a fatal mix. The walkers, distracted by the noise and the distractions of consuming orange light, turned toward the site and stumbled in the general direction.

Daryl fell to his knees and wept.

Merle, his blood, was swallowed ruthlessly in a sea aswirl with the rages of fire. Daryl had been too late as he had before, as he had so many times previously, a failure to anyone he ever dared to call family. There was nothing left for him, nothing but a blonde teen he'd abandoned, a father dead, a mother burned along with his brother, a life that no one should be forced to live. Oceans of the dead. Scars in his skin. A horribly fucked up Chevy that he could never get rid of now. He slammed his fist against the concrete once, twice, three times, so many that the cracking of his bones couldn't stop him from the punches. Shocks of agony rippled through the nerves of his right hand and none of it mattered, none if it could make Daryl Dixon give a shit again.

In the distance, he heard little cries. His bloodied, useless hand lay motionless against the pavement, and he gave a glance to the woods as the figure of a terrified child emerged, clutching a Hello Kitty doll and a little pink backpack. Their eyes met, and for an instant he was crazy enough to believe he recognized her from somewhere, some better memory of another life. An angel come to bring him away on swift wings

"Merle..." stated through her whimpers. "Merle Dixon?"

"Daryl," he growled out brokenly. "Daryl Dixon, what's it matter to you?"

The girl sniffled and wept. "Please, take me with you Mr. Dixon, please, please! My momma and my daddy, they--"

"Shut up!" he barked, rising from the ground and gripping the girl by the collar of her shirt. "How the fuck do you know my brother's name, kid? Speak!"

"I--he--"

There was no time for her to explain. The shadows of other dead littered the forest lines, attracted to the sounds of the blast, began to stir and emerge from thick firs and evergreens and Daryl had no intention of dying just yet.

"In the car," he ordered. "Now!"

"W-Where are we goin'?!"

"A farm." Daryl climbed hastily into the driver's seat and slammed the door, punching his foot on the gas and spinning the car around to face the opposite direction of the highway. "Stay quiet and I won't kick you out."
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth awoke suddenly in one of the storage closets within her house, the smell of blood and dust filling her nostrils.

What.. time is it? She thought in a daze, her eyes gazing about the small, suffocating space. She had been locked in there for three days, unable to find a way to get herself back out. It all came back to her in flashes at a time. Just a few days ago, she was simply napping in her room, mourning over what had happened at Henderson's Grocery & Home and Daryl's departure. However, she awoke to the sound of screams later on that evening. In a panic, she rushed out of her room, climbing down the stairs as fast as she could.

"Mom? Dad? Shawn? Maggie?" She called out to her family, and suddenly Shawn came into her sights. "Beth! What the hell are you doing down here? Get back upstairs! Lock the door tight!" He ordered her in a stern, loud voice. Beth's eyes grew wide with surprise and confusion. "W-What are you talking abo--" She began, but then Maggie rushed in through the screen door. Her eyes broadened as soon as thy set on Beth. "Hide!" She ordered her, grabbing her younger sister roughly by the arm and attempting to push her back up the stairs.

"Stop it! What are you--! You're hurtin' me!"

"Quit your yappin' and hide!"

"No! Get off of me!" Beth snapped, pushing her sister's arms away. "Where are mom and dad?" She questioned, and Maggie's face immediately darkened. She turned towards the back screen door, her lips pursed together. Beth shook her head back and forth, the worst beginning to enter her thoughts. "No.. No.. They're okay, right?" Beth spoke out in disbelief, rushing towards the screen door. "Beth, no!" Shawn called out, reaching out for her but missing her ever so slightly. Right there in the middle of the fields was her father's body, covered in blood.

Eating his flesh was none other than her mother herself, along with five other walkers.

"MOM! DAD!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, fixing to make a bolt through the door. Before she could, however, Maggie grabbed Beth by her shirt and yanked her backwards, knocking her off balance. "Stop it, Beth! They're attracted to sound!" Maggie warned, but it was too late. Annette and the other undead with her perked their heads up at Beth's shouts, soon limping their way towards the home. "Dammit!" Shawn cursed, loading the shotgun he had in hand. Afterwards, he made his way outside, Maggie shaking her head in stress and disapproval.

In a rush, she opened a nearby closet, tossing Beth inside. Before Beth could retaliate, Maggie shut and locked the door, for it had a lock on the outside of it. Beth pounded on the wood, looking through the small spaces between the wooden blinds of the structure. "Maggie, let me out!" Beth cried out, but Maggie was already making her way out of the house. "You stay put, Beth! Let us handle this!" Maggie shouted, and soon only the sound of the screen door resonated through the house. Meanwhile, Beth was trapped along with a mop and a broom, nothing more.

Sounds of the undead groaning could be heard from outside, and Beth could also hear the sounds of guns firing. Each shot made her wince, and she covered her ears with her hands. Why did they just lock me in here?! I wanna do somethin'! I wanna help! She cried out internally, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks once more. She rocked herself back and forth, trying to drown out it all. Once she got fed up, she'd continue banging on the door, wanting to get out. She stopped as soon as pain surged through her hands, however. Her palms began to bruise, and her fingers began to bleed. She attempted to fit them through the small spaces in between the wooden blinds, trying to squeeze or scratch her way out. Ultimately, it was no use, and she immediately grew quiet as the sound of raspy groaning echoed through the home. Beth could see shadows passing over the closet door, and she knew that it wasn't Maggie or Shawn. Any hope she had immediately disappeared.

Ultimately, the few walkers passed through, and she was left in suffocating silence.

Now, she was still locked up in that space, and she woke due to the subtle rays of sunlight peeking through the wooden blinds of the closet door. With furrowed brows, Beth sat up and rose to her knees, attempting once more to break one of the wooden blinds. The structures were thick, though they had grown tired thanks to Beth's past attempts. Finally, one of the blades snapped, and it made it easier for her to grasp a hold of the others. One by one, she broke them into halves and twisted them off. Soon enough, there was a big enough hole in the door for her slender body to fit through. Thanks to her not having an ounce of food or water in a few days, she was slightly thinner than before. She didn't even dare look into a mirror, for she was sure that her eyes were sunken in slightly, probably blessed with dark circles underneath them. With a grunt, she made her way through, gaining a scratch on her side thanks to the sharp bits of broken off wood. She let out a cry of pain, looking down at her now bleeding hip. In aggravation, she quickly brought the rest of herself through, simply laying there on the floor for a moment.

Her lifeless pale blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, her expression blank and emotionless.

I don't want to do this anymore.
 
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Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
"So let me get this straight," Daryl forced out, his voice still cracking under the stress of his loneliness. The only sound between them and the engine was the blow of air raucously flooding through half-open passenger window. "Merle. Merle Dixon. The second ugliest piece a'shit on this planet, my brother. He's your dad?"

"Mhm," the girl at his side hummed with a gentle sadness on her face. "That's what my mama said. My birthday was two days ago. I turned nine. I wanted to meet my real daddy for my birthday, so my mama arranged for me to see 'im at the prison." She looked hopelessly down at the little doll in her hands. "I met 'im. He laughed and said I wasn't his and that my mama was stupid. He said lots'a bad words. We left an' I was very sad, then those things came."

"Jackass," Daryl muttered. "Sounds like him. How'd you survive out there for two damn days?"

"The snacks mama packed me." She opened her little backpack, revealing what remained of her breakfast, lunch and dinner. "There was an office thing in the woods I slept in. We drove all the way from South Carolina to get here, and my daddy was so mean..." The girl looked up to him with red, puffy eyes that showed the despair reflected in both their souls. "You're not mean."

"I am," Daryl ground out. "You just ain't seen it yet."

"Uncle Daryl?"

"Don't call me that."

"O-okay. Mister Dixon. How much longer until we get to the farm, and the girl that's there?"

"Ten minutes. Maybe."

"Okay." The girl curled up on the seat and cast her eyes out the window, and Daryl was content to revel in the silence, however short a time that may be. His focus was primarily on reaching the Greene family and making sure they were still in once piece, and perhaps giving his so-called niece a place to sleep for the night.

Beth would let 'er stay. Daryl ground his teeth and pressed harder on the gas.
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth allowed her blank and emotionless gaze of ice blue to close. For a while, she just lied there on the floor. She was breathing, but she had never felt so lifeless before. It was as though her entire being was numb, though she did feel this subtle ache growing in her chest. What was once just a small ping of pain soon felt like a hurricane corrupting her soul, and the sensation was growing into something Beth could only describe as sheer torture. Why did everyone leave? She couldn't help but think as tears began to well up in her eyes. The moisture almost stung, for her eyes were already worn out from her past sob fests. She was also dehydrated, so the liquid escaping her body from her eyes only increased the migraine she had already developed. With a sniffle, Beth finally sat up, wiping away at her reddening eyes.

I'm done.

Beth slowly made her way back up to her feet, staggering a little as she did so. She hadn't been up and walking for a few days now, so the action almost felt foreign. Her stomach ached and rumbled, and she felt sore from being in a single position for too long, but none of that could compare to the sensation whirling in her chest. It felt heavy, like a thousand bricks were pulling it down. It felt hurt, as though someone stomped on her heart a million times. Not to mention, she felt completely and utterly broken. As she began making her way up the stairs and into the bathroom, she slowly began feeling as though she was some sort of void without soul - like a doll simply moving but not quite alive. The feeling was driving her over the deep end, and she wanted nothing more than for it to disappear.

She wanted to disappear.

She made her way into the bathroom, grabbing one of the razor blades kept in one of the drawers. She looked down at the shimmering metal, her eyes that were once filled with tears now completely dry. She grabbed the blade, holding it up against her wrist. For a moment, she hesitated. She felt a subtle sting as she pushed the blade into her skin, and the sensation made her freeze. However, thinking of her father's mangled body, his blood and flesh corrupting her mother's once angelic and warm face, her resolve came back. She didn't want to be here anymore; and, if she was useless, she might as well end it all now before she becomes someone else's burden. I'm done. She repeated to herself, bringing the blade down vertically. She created a four inch slit all the way from her wrist down her arm.

The blood began flowing like a river.

She put her hand over the self inflicted wound as she made her way into the bath tub. She simply lied there, draping her bloody arm over the side. There was a small pool beginning to form on the floor, but Beth could care less. Nobody else was there with her anymore, so what did it matter?

Who needs a useless girl like me around, anyways?

I'm.. I'm done.

... See you soon, daddy.
 
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Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
Daryl slammed harshly on the breaks, coming head to head with the steel force of a new reality. Two walkers made a feast of Hershel Greene and his step-son, tearing at organs and flesh, while four others hovered over the corpse of Maggie's favorite horse. "Oh, shit," Daryl cursed. "Stay down, kid. I'll call t'you when it's clear."

"My name's Abigail."

"Don't matter." Daryl pulled out his gun and rushed from the truck before the undead could gather together too closely. He fired three shots and slaughtered one with his crossbow, making sure to kill the brain as that seemed to be the only thing that effectively took them down. He snatched his crossbow by the neck and slammed it brutally into the skull of the last remaining walker, panting, eyeing the scene of strewn bodies while the familiar sensation of unadulterated failure sank in his bones. Hershel and Shawn were strewn in multiple areas of a bloodbath, laying beside the undead body of Annette Greene, the woman who never hesitated to treat Daryl with a pure heart and kindness. His last words to her were cruel. He would never forgive himself for that.

"Beth..." he muttered suddenly, looking up to the tattered farmhouse. "Beth, Beth!" Daryl scrambled to his feet, freeing the crossbow from bone and making a mad dash for the house. "Beth!" he called again, searching every room, every closet and nook and cranny that she could possibly be hiding in, tossing furniture aside carelessly in his hasty search. "Beth! Maggie, Beth!" He clambered up the stairs and broke through several bedrooms, taking down a stray walker that had followed him in search of a meal. He lifted beds and shoved clothes aside, pulling them from closets and shouting in frustration as he came up absent of the teen he was desperate for. Frantic, he made a final stop at the bathroom adjacent to the girl's room and kicked down the door, opening his mouth to give another cry of her name.

The word fell uselessly from his lips.

Daryl Dixon would never forget the sight. Beth's torso was smothered in her own blood, streaming from the cut on her left arm while the razor blade rested in her right. The pain in his knuckles seemed to spike with the urge to hit something again, deciding that the wall was the perfect victim. He gave a hard smack through the drywall and a sharp cry of agony burst forth from his lips, one that cracked his voice and made his eyes water, but it made the sight of the dying girl easier to deal with. He dropped the crossbow and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, shouting and whimpering, "The hell is wrong with you?!" The words came forth as a sob, one he quickly masked with rage. "Dammit, dammit! Damn you, Beth." He scooped the bleeding girl up in his arms and moved her to the comforts of her own room, keeping her arm elevated, tearing at the sheets to make a hasty tourniquet.

"You're fuckin' stupid," he told her mostly unconscious body, wrapping up her arm and holding it tight, though the sheer agony of his right hand made keeping a straight face difficult. "You're just some dumb girl. I don't know why the hell I came back for you at all."
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth could faintly hear the sound of what seemed like someone calling her name. Walkers don't talk.. I'm probably startin' to imagine things.. Maybe it's 'cause I lost so much blood.. She thought, feeling incredibly weak and hazy. Her eyes rolled backwards just before she shut them, and she let out a single, exasperated breath. "Beth!" She heard the voice much louder, clearer. It was then that she recognized it. Daryl..? She thought, rolling her head over to the side of the bathtub, facing the door. Soon after she did that, the door broke down, and Daryl stood right there. Her eyes were barely open; one would probably mistake them for being closed unless they really paid attention. She could barely make out the image of him striking the wall, then crying out in pain. Soon, he was right in front of her, the collar of her shirt in his grasp as he stared her down in fury. His eyes appeared watery, his expression tormented. "The hell is wrong with you?!" He cried out.

She tried to open her eyes fully, though everything was getting far too hazy. Her body wasn't listening or responding to her, her eyes simply rolling about, not able to maintain a stare in his direction. She could hear him cursing and screaming, though soon everything sounded fuzzy. It was as though she was underwater, drowning underneath the surface, and Daryl was attempting to pull her out. She felt like dead weight as he lifted her, returning her to her room. She was drifting further and further away, though she caught him calling her stupid. Perhaps I am, she thought, tears welling up in her eyes once more. "You're just some dumb girl. I don't know why the hell I came back for you at all." She heard him say, and, for a split second, the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

But, you came. She thought before finally drifting off into unconsciousness.


A few hours went by before Beth finally awakened. She woke to the sound of what seemed like a small girl speaking. "I don't know your name, but now you're Mr. Rabbit, and you're Mr. Bear." Beth listened, and soon the sound of humming came from the same source. Lazily, and with a severe migraine, Beth turned towards the young girl. Her pale blue eyes set on her lazily, and she watched as she played with a couple of Beth's stuffed animals. They had been laying on the shelf for quite some time, neglected but still loved. W-.. Who is--, Beth began to think, and then her gaze of pale gray and hazel set on her. "Oh, she's awake!" She declared, making her way over towards Beth with the stuffed rabbit and bear in tow. "Say, what're their names? Can you tell me?" She questioned, offering Beth a small smile. For a moment, Beth began to sincerely question whether or not she was in some alternate universe or twilight zone. "W-What?" She stammered out in confusion.


It was then that she heard someone exhaling a breath on the other side of the room beside the window. Beth turned to face it, and soon Daryl returned to her sights. He was there smoking a cigarette, exhaling the smoke out of the open window. Beth's pale pink lips parted, and, for a moment, she felt like she was going to cry again. However, the tears just wouldn't come. Perhaps it was because she had cried too much already. "Daryl.." She spoke his name under her breath, her voice almost as hushed as a whisper. He really did come back.. She thought, a weak, gentle, and extremely delicate smile coming across her face. It was then that she noticed the makeshift treatment he gave her arm, wrapping it up in bandages and effectively stopping the bleeding. For a moment, she felt a sense of gratitude, but then a subtle irritation began to grow within her. She sincerely wanted to disappear, and Daryl ruined all of that for her.

"Why are you here?" She questioned him, her expression still soft, but darkened ever so slightly.

"Why are you here now?"
 
Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
Daryl refused to turn at Abigail's cries, exclaiming that the girl had woken from her stupor. He tossed the dead butt of his cigarette out the window and down into the bushes before lighting another, losing track of how many he'd brought to his lips in the past several hours. He breathed in the poisonous chemicals and exhaled the remnants through cracked lips, looking down to his right hand which was progressively turning darker than the bruised night sky. The smallest twitch in his fingers sent agony through his wrist that shot all the way to his shoulder. He let it rest, resisting the urge to clench his fist upon her words, and instead kept his eyes cast out toward the stars.

"Why are you here now?"

"Someone's gotta babysit." He flashed her a look of tempered rage. "Someone's gotta keep the two a'ya from doin' somethin' stupid. More stupid than that bullshit right there." Daryl gestured to her sliced arm and scoffed. "A thank you would be damn appreciated."

"I put some water and a sandwich on the table for you, Miss Beth." Abigail held the stuffed toys close to her chest. "You look hungry."

"Go downstairs." Daryl flicked the ashes of the cigarette onto the rug, seething, the anger clear in his face.

"Are you gonna hurt her, Mister Dixon?"

"No." He scoffed. "I ain't gonna hurt Miss Beth. She don't need me for that." Daryl pointed to the door with his good hand. "Go on, girl. Make somethin' to eat, I don't care. Don' make any noise."

"My name's Abigail!"

"Whatever." He waited until she was gone, hearing her little feet trudge down the stairs in defeat before he rounded on Beth. Angrily, he jabbed his finger at her, any remnants of a peaceful demeanor faded into a greater indignance.

"I saved your life," he barked towards her. "I stopped that piss-awful pity party you were throwin' in the tub and I fuckin' cared for you. Don't make me regret it now." Daryl picked up the plate and shoved it so hard toward her that the contents spilled on the blankets, to halves of a sandwich stopping at Beth's trembling fingertips.

"Eat."
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth's face immediately darkened whenever Daryl responded to her. "Someone's gotta babysit." He spoke, her expression falling flat. "Someone's gotta keep the two a'ya from doin' somethin' stupid. More stupid than that bullshit right there." He stated, gesturing to her injured wrist. She pursed her lips together tightly at this, returning his scoff as he suggested her thanking him. Before, if he had been kinder to her about the matter, she would have gladly thanked him. However, with his current actions, she was only growing more and more vexed by the minute. Even though she knew that she did something reckless, selfish, and stupid, she still didn't think Daryl was right in treating her this way. In her mind, if he was going to be this cruel to her, then he should have just left her to die. Torture and heartache were the precise things she was trying to escape from, and Daryl was only bringing it all back to her. Even though she knew it wasn't right, she was still frustrated.

He was the one who abandoned them to begin with, after all.

Why did he decide to come back now?

Beth looked towards the young girl before her as she notified her of the food and drink she had prepared for her. Forcing a reassuring smile across her lips, Beth nodded towards her gratefully. "I appreciate it, sweetie," she spoke, giving her a small pat on the head with her uninjured hand. Soon after, Daryl ordered her to go downstairs. Beth shot him a look, her pale blue gaze filling up with fire as she braced herself for what was to come. She could already tell that he was planning on lecturing her, yelling at her, or blowing off some sort of steam. No matter which option it was, he was planning on starting something he didn't want the young girl with them to hear. Beth shook her head at the thought of that, listening to their exchange of words. She shut her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh as Daryl stated that she didn't need him to hurt her, for it was truly starting to feel like he was rubbing salt in her wounds. Her brows furrowed slightly.

The young girl revealed her name before going back downstairs, and Beth made a mental note to remember it. Abigail, huh? At least there's one kind soul around here. She thought to herself, reluctantly turning her gaze back to Daryl as he began to speak again. "I saved your life," he started, "I stopped that piss-awful pity party you were throwin' in the tub and I fuckin' cared for you. Don't make me regret it now." Beth winced at his tone, feeling a small tremble beginning to course through her body. As he tossed the food towards her, ordering her to eat, she looked down towards the spilled contents. She took up one half of the sandwich, taking it into her hands. After a moment, rage slowly began to fill her up, and she slammed it back down unto the plate. "Did I ask to be saved?!" She finally snapped, her eyes beginning to water. "You left, Daryl! You left! My family was gone, and I was all alone with those.. Those monsters! What did you expect me to do?!"

After letting out a cry, trying her best to keep her welt up tears from falling, she went on before he could interject. "What do you want from me, Daryl? Some thanks? An apology? Fine! Thanks for savin' me and carin' for me, and I'm sorry for being so "stupid" like you say! But, I didn't ask to be saved! I wanted to disappear! If you didn't want to come back, then why did you bother?! I don't want a babysitter! I've had enough of 'em!" She ranted on, throwing demanding questions as the tears she tried holding back finally fell down her porcelain cheeks. She pushed the plate of food aside angrily, placing her trembling hands over her face. If you're gonna make me feel worse about it, then just go! I don't need a guilt trip from the likes of you! She screamed in her thoughts, though she couldn't manage to say the words out loud with how choked up she was starting to feel. That annoying lump was returning, and she hated it.


Please, just stop makin' me feel worse than I already do!
 
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Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21
"You left, Daryl! You left! My family was gone, and I was all alone with those...those monsters! What did you expect me to do?!""

You left.

It was a phrase that was painfully familiar to his past, only it had fallen from Daryl's own lips directed at the brother he'd lost. You left. The words stung and twisted like a hot knife in his flesh, a reality he couldn't face, words he had told himself repeatedly in the back of his broken mind since the moment he bore witness to her drowning in the bathtub. You left, Daryl. You left. He clutched his skull in fear it might crack open. She continued her rant, shouting meaningless daggers that pierced the both of them, spewing her idiotic content as if trying to convince him to let her pass to the next life. To let her disappear. He heard nothing she told him, not even the context, not even the meanings of her useless utterances. The only words that mattered stuck with him like his shattered knuckles. Nothing could change that reality.

You left.

"Nah, nah. Shut up, girl. Shut up!" Daryl slammed his hands against the lamp and shoved it to the ground, ignoring the high cries of shattered glass and shattered resolve. "You don' get to do that! You don' get to walk into somebody's life and then check out like you don' care, it's bullshit!" He scoffed, the cigarette wedged between his fingers long forgotten and burning out. "It ain't right. Your daddy sure as hell never wanted you to do that an' it don't matter if he ain't here nomore, you tellin' me you're gonna shit on 'is memory like that and end it? Ain't nobody here to weep over you, Beth. Ain't nobody gonna give a shit about your stupid need for attention. I sure as hell don't. I don't care." He jabbed an accusatory finger at her, his voice on the verge of a dangerous tremble.

"I don't care because you don't care."

He left and slammed the door, ending all further conversation.

You left.
 
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Beth Greene; The Innocent , #ffcc99

Beth cringed at the sound of Daryl's voice, ignited with fury and frustration. "Nah, nah. Shut up, girl. Shut up!" He shouted, slamming his hand onto her lamp and sending it down to the floor. She jumped at the sound of it shattering upon impact, and she peeped her icy blue eyes over the hands that covered her face over towards the newly found mess. You don' get to do that! You don' get to walk into somebody's life and then check out like you don' care, it's bullshit!" He continued, and she pursed her lips together at this. She wanted to return that statement right back to him, for that's exactly what he did to her and her family, but he went on before she could say anything in return.

"It ain't right. Your daddy sure as hell never wanted you to do that an' it don't matter if he ain't here nomore, you tellin' me you're gonna shit on 'is memory like that and end it? Ain't nobody here to weep over you, Beth. Ain't nobody gonna give a shit about your stupid need for attention. I sure as hell don't. I don't care." He stated, and Beth could feel more and more tears welling up in her eyes. Her entire expression screamed torment and depression, the face of a completely and utterly broken soul. D-Dad.. She thought to herself, pursing her lips together tightly as her brows furrowed. She tried to hold the tears back, but they kept flowing down her cheeks like a waterfall. She turned her tear filled eyes towards the accusing finger Daryl jabbed towards her, her gaze of pale blue flickering between that and his own stare.

"I don't care because you don't care."

She watched as he left her room, slamming the door hard behind him. Upon that sound resonating through the space, Beth jumped again, and she finally couldn't fight back the breakdown. She threw herself over her pillow, completely ignoring the food on her bed. She kicked it aside, though, in a fit of fury, she grabbed the plate and threw it against the wall. "It's not fair!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, her eyes beginning to burn with how many tears she has shed. If you don't care, why the hell do you even bother?! If you don't care, why can't you just leave me alone?! She screamed in her thoughts, throwing her body back over her mattress. If you don't care, why do you have to make me feel worse than I already do?! Why couldn't you just let me be?! She continued to cry, her sobs growing to the volume of screams and shouts for a moment. She couldn't hold them back anymore; this breakdown was three days overdue.

Ain't nobody here to weep over you Beth.

That's why I wanted to go.

Ain't nobody gonna give a shit about your stupid need for attention.

That's why I wanted to go. I don't want to be a burden anymore. You just.. don't get it.

Your daddy sure as hell never wanted you to do that an' it don't matter if he ain't here nomore, you tellin' me you gonna shit on 'is memory like that and end it?

... Daddy...


Beth couldn't help but think as she repeated those last words in her head over and over again. I'm.. I'm sorry! She thought, burying her face into her pillow as she continued to cry. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.." She sobbed over and over, her head, throat, and stomach beginning to ache like never before. She had never been in such bad shape before, and she truly did just want to disappear. However, those words from Daryl were slowly beginning to seep in. She didn't want to "shit on" her family's memory like that. If anything, she wanted them to be proud of her. She always wanted to show them that she was capable of taking care of herself, that way they wouldn't have to smother her with protection all the time. She wanted to grow stronger and more capable, that way they wouldn't have to worry. She wanted to be better; she wanted to be able to take care of them to make up for all the times they spent taking care of her.

It may be too late for some of those things, but it wasn't for all of them.

After a while longer, Beth looked up towards the ceiling, her violent sobs finally coming to an end. Now, only a few silent tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was beginning to catch her breath. As if she was trying to find a sign of heaven, Beth looked up longingly.

Wherever you are.. Dad, Mom.. I'll show you.

I'll show you the girl I can be.

I'll make you proud.

I promise.
 
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Daryl Dixon; The Archer, #234a21

Droplets of golden sunshine oozed through wooden barriers and spilled all over the floors, bathing the Greene living room in an eerie orange glow. Light cast across Daryl's face and still he did not stir, groaning a bit in his frustrated slumber before rolling out of the sun's sight. He allowed himself a few moments more to rest in his already wakened state, rubbing his tired face in exhaustion, but the simple habit caused for a rude awakening. His swollen right hand throbbed the instant he moved a finger, so violent and agonizing that Daryl slammed his good hand on the table and cursed colorfully at the ceiling. Overnight, the swelling had gone from bad to worse and it was clear that the painkillers he swallowed before bed had worn off. Exasperated and paralyzed, he looked to the twice-swollen set of knuckles and found himself cursing again.

I really fucked it up this time.

There was only one option. At-home care had always been necessary for his survival as a child, and it would certainly help now. Daryl pushed himself off of the couch in the living room and trudged groggily through the kitchen, opening drawers and scavenging through various cupboards in search of what he was looking for. A towel, a cloth, anything. When he came up empty and agitated, he moved into the nearest bedroom and pulled out drawers of clothing from the base of their shelves, rummaging through until he discovered a white scarf that was as close to gauze as he was going to get. He looked up from the contents of his discovered treasure, noticing a picture of Annette and Shawn in a mahogany frame that showed mother and son on a Florida beach, with their arms wrapped tight around each other and beaming smiles on their faces. "Sorry," he muttered to the happy faces. "Need this." Daryl took the scarf and exited the room.

His second stop was the kitchen again, specifically the wine closet Daryl knew was hidden somewhere. Beth said he liked booze. Ain't no one like that gonna get by without a stash. He fumbled through more of the Greene's belongings and grabbed the neck of a glass bottle, reading the label, chuckling at his auspicious findings. Chardonnay. Fancy stuff. He took the cork in his teeth and yanked it out, spitting it back atop granite counters. He took several long swigs of the white, sweet wine before carrying the bottle and his injured hand to the sink. Daryl drew in a deep breath in anticipation and slowly released.

One. Two. Three.

He dumped the pale contents over his knuckles and instantly felt the consequences. Daryl shouted as quietly as he possibly could, kicking the side of the cabinet in aggression that he couldn't give voice to in danger of blowing their fragile cover. He uttered a long stream of heinous curses, ones that would make even a truck driver blush in shame, and wrapped the black and blue knuckles with Annette's cotton scarf. It took all he had not to chew through his bottom lip. When the deed was done, he held the fracture in the air above his heart and continued to drink from the bottle, knowing he couldn't slip into a drunken stupor, but the small buzz of liquor would help dull the pain.

"Girl," he barked. "Hey, you. Eat somethin'."

"I don't wanna," Abigail replied from where she sat at the table, swinging her feet over the edge of the chair as if it were a game. Her cheeks were wet with tears. "I'm not hungry."

"What is it with the two of you and eating?" Daryl scoffed. "This is the damn apocalypse. I'm stuffin' myself 'till I die." He pulled open the fridge and retrieved a leftover casserole in a glass dish, sliding it on the counter before kicking the powerless refrigerator door shut. He grabbed a fork from a drawer of silverware and sat on the bar stool, looking down at the foil-wrapped breakfast of unknown content.

Annette probably made this. His pounding heart sank. Daryl unwrapped half of the leftovers and sighed, looking down at a perfectly made chicken casserole that would have been the finest dining he'd ever eaten, but he pushed it away and searched for something different.

I can't take 'er mom's cookin' from 'er. No one will have it again.
 
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