ᴀɴɢᴜɪsʜ » ᴅᴀʀʏʟ ᴅɪxᴏɴ

{33} I Found You.

[ warning: self-harm mentioned in the chapter. it is brief but thought I warn my readers ]

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"Find them."

Daryl stabs his long hunting knife into the fallen tree near his tent site. Jodie stood behind him with her arms crossed. The last ten minutes spent insisting Dixon go search for Glenn, Willow, and Rick. The sun was starting to dip in the horizon and Glenn's calculations of how long they should be out expired.

Anyone knew that being out after dark wasn't the best idea. Jodie didn't want yet another worry of Willow possibly not coming back.

"I came way out here to be away from you people. Y'all ever heard of privacy?" Daryl barked, stomping back towards his motorcycle. Snatching the oily red cloth from the seat. "I'm not your damn errand boy, Princess. You go do it."

"She's the only thing I've got, Daryl."

Angered, Daryl threw the cloth towards Jodie's feet. His patience with her shattered. "Then maybe don't tell her shit as ya did earlier. Good lord, do you only think about yourself? The woman ran off to get away from you!"

"You mean us..."

Daryl stopped what he was doing at Jodie's words. The truth behind them even he couldn't disagree with. With an irritated growl, Daryl spun around and stomped towards his crossbow. He snatched the weapon up and threw it onto his shoulder.

"Don't ask me to fix nothin'. I'm done," Daryl spat towards Jodie whilst gathering the rest of his gear.

"Daryl -"

"Stop!" Daryl says, his voice is hoarse. Emotions running high. "I need to go find that little girl y'all keep forgettin' about. Maybe, your sister should be searching for her instead!"

Before Jodie could continue her pleads, Daryl began for the treeline. This time doing what he felt was right without someone telling him otherwise. Jodie stood in silence, running her fingers through her curly hair. This day couldn't get any worse.

***

His fingers touched the shark tooth wrapped around his neck. The thought of Willow came to mind as he paced along a small pond. The kiss from before bothered Dixon. Not because he disliked the touch of Willow's lips, but the fear of having someone like her taking interest in him made Daryl recoil. Merle would call him a pussy. For once a woman he desired for years - showered him with inventiveness.

Here, Daryl was pushing Hunter away.

"Get it together," Daryl whispers to himself, removing his touch from the good luck charm. He held his crossbow in hand, moving towards an area he hadn't searched quite yet. But wanted to just yesterday.

In the opening, a small abandoned house sat alone. It appeared to be old, a broken chicken coop sat on the side. Along with some other farm material that sat in time for decades. Daryl ceased at the treeline opening, studying the home with narrowed brows. If anyone wanted to escape from the dead, they'd find refuge here.

After searching around the outside of the home, Daryl gently pushed open the worn wooden door. The blues of his eyes scanned the dark hallway, sniffing the mildly dank air for any signs of death. With his crossbow pointed, Dixon continued inside the kitchen. A single table sat to his left while the stove, broken cabinets, and an outline where the refrigerator once stood to his right. The bottom of his boots caused the floorboards to squeal loudly.