Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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A sharp stabbing pain in my stomach woke me up, forcing me to spring upwards. My hand immediately clamped the skin of my stomach, a hiss of pain escaping me as the familiar feeling of bile climbed up my throat. Quickly untangling myself from the sleeping bag, I tore open the tent and hunched over, vomiting violently on the ground. My already empty stomach lurched again, more bile littering the earth beneath me. I groaned and felt tears stream down my cheeks from the exertion. As I heaved, a rough hand started to rub my back in an attempt to soothe me. I gagged again and looked upwards, meeting Daryl's pale blue eyes. They were still half-closed as he adjusted to the budding light around us, but he continued his motions. The sun was starting to rise in the sky, the dull light barely illuminating our surroundings. I faced down once again and gagged, my stomach knotting, twisting, and turning with each heave. After a few seconds, I slowly straightened up and sucked in a deep breath.

"You good?" Daryl asked, still half asleep. My answer was a groan as my uneasy stomach did cartwheels as I tried to return to the tent. Daryl helped me in, slowly lowering me as he carefully eyed me. "When was the last time you ate?" I glanced at Daryl, noticing he was now fully awake and worried about me.

"Probably the day before Carl got shot," I murmured, fully knowing that my sudden outburst of sickness was caused by not eating. Isn't it weird how the human body works?

"You mean to tell me you haven't eaten in three days?" Daryl scoffed.

"I didn't eat at all when Sophia first ran off, then Carl got shot, and yesterday was just a shit day," I whispered, knowing it was stupid for me not to eat, but who had the time with all this craziness? Daryl scoffed again and rummaged through the bags, producing the last bit of beef jerky he had given me on the highway. He shoved it in my face and ordered me to eat the rest bag, his angry eyes watching as I slowly took bites. I could feel my tastebuds sing in delight as I chewed, my stomach going into a frenzy as it yearned for food. I shoved piece after piece into my mouth, not realizing just how hungry I had been as I did so.

"Whatever is planned today," Daryl gruffly said, "I want you to sit it out. We don't need you being sick while we're out searching for the girl or you passing out cause you don't take care of yourself." I finished with the last piece of jerky and tossed the bag at Daryl, having heard this lecture millions of times before.

"You sound just like my mom." I groaned, laying back down and immediately sitting up as a wave of nausea passed over me. I placed my hands behind my head and breathed deeply until my nausea passed. Daryl sat there looking at me, his rugged face set in a scowl as he watched me struggle with nausea.

"We need to get a proper meal in you." He snapped as he shoved his boots on. He tossed me mine and climbed out of the tent, waiting on me. I tied up my boots and sighed, slowly crawling out and grabbing onto Daryl to lift myself. We walked towards camp, Dale already awake and making a batch of eggs in the skillet over the fire.

"Morning." Dale smiled at the two of us. I sat beside him and smiled, my stomach still groaning in hunger.

"Morning, Dale," I said as my mouth watered.

"Make sure she eats," Daryl ordered as he walked toward Rick. Rick leaned against the porch railing, his cool blue eyes lingering on the waking camp before him.

"You're alright?" Dale asked as he scrambled the eggs in the skillet.

"Just don't feel too good." I explained, "I haven't eaten in a while, and when that happens, I get sick."

"I've heard of that happening to some people. That they get nauseous when they haven't eaten and throw up." Dale nodded with a small smile as he looked up at me, "We better hurry up and feed you then." I nodded and felt my lips turn downward as I watched Rick and Daryl speak, Daryl pointing my way. Damn, he's telling Rick not to let me do anything today—stupid Daryl. Dale set aside a plate of eggs before serving me and handing me a plastic fork. I thanked him as I inhaled the eggs, feeling my stomach pain and nausea dissipate. "Don't be afraid to ask for more. Hershel gave us about two dozen." Surprised by how ravenous I felt, I held my plate out and chewed, desperate for more. Dale served me again, a chuckle escaping him as he did so, and watched as I inhaled my second plate of eggs. I set my plate down and swallowed, finally feeling normal as the last bit of food hit my stomach. Daryl and Rick sat on either side of me, Dale handing them plates and serving them. I looked over to Daryl and started to open my mouth when he interrupted me.