Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

|18|

The bed was nice and cushiony, but I couldn't enjoy its comfort as I held a blood-soaked rag against the side of Daryl's big-ass head. Occasionally, I let my eyes divert to Hershel as he stitched Daryl's side. Rick sat beside the bed on a wooden chair, pointing to the terrain map and marking down where Daryl had found Sophia's doll. Shane leaned against the farthest wall close to the door and watched Daryl recount his eventful day. See, this is why I should've gone with him! The one day I don't go, and he nearly dies. Hershel cut the thread and pursed his lips, his eyes landing on me. He's annoyed, and I understand why. We came in and made ourselves at home, using his resources and taking his property.

I'll offer him a proper apology later, but right now, my main focus is the dirty, crazy man beside me. I examined him, my bottom lip catching between my teeth as I tried to compose myself. I know loss in this world is inevitable, but to lose Daryl? I don't even want to think of it. He may not know it, but he's my rock. He's my brother, and I love him dearly.

"How's he looking?" Rick asked Hershel, catching my attention.

"I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly," Hershel said, not bothering to answer Ricks' question. "Any idea what happened to my horse?"

"Yeah, the one that almost killed me?" Daryl scoffed, still pissed at the horse, "If it's smart, it left the country."

"We call that one Nelly." As he washed off his hands in a water basin, Hershel explained, "As in Nervous Nelly. I could've told you she'd throw you if you bothered to ask. It's a wonder you people survived this long." Yeah, sometimes I wonder too. But here we are, alive and kicking.

"So, we gonna talk about how June almost killed Andrea?" Shane asked roughly. I pursed my lips and diverted my attention to him, my stare hardening as the thought of putting a knife to his neck crossed my mind. Hershel, Rick, and Daryl turned to me, expecting an answer. "What was that?" Shane spat at me. I wanted to turn the question on him, ask him if we should talk about the incident at the CDC or the night Otis died, but instead, I said:

"Not my fault she doesn't know how to listen. If she would've listened, none of this would've happened."

"Doesn't mean you just up and slit her throat." Shane scoffed, his brown eyes burning holes into me. I bit my tongue, not wanting to dig my hole with Shane even deeper. We're already on bad terms. I don't want to make it worse.

"Point is, she's alive, and I only scared her. Maybe next time, she'll think." I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to Daryl, dabbing at the graze. I could feel eyes upon me, but I didn't need to explain myself. I don't regret what I did; this will be a lesson for her. I could hear the men around us move toward the door, closing it behind them to give Daryl and I privacy. Daryl lay on his back, his pale eyes staring at me the entire time as I held the rag against his head.

"That's the first time I've seen you that pissed." Daryl finally muttered after a few beats of silence. I tried to smile but failed and, instead, gripped his bicep, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.

"She could've killed you." I whispered as my voice cracked, "Then I would've been all alone again." Tears escaped my eyes and landed on Daryl's bicep, refusing to meet his eyes. I haven't felt this scared of losing someone in a long time. I thought that nothing could affect me like this ever again after the loss of my family.

"Would you have killed her?" I looked at Daryl teary-eyed, trying to think about what he had just asked me. Would I have? I don't think I would've.

"I don't think so." I cried, "Probably would've buried you and then packed up my shit. Get as far away from here as I can." Daryl placed his hand on my knee, squeezing it as he watched more tears flow from my eyes. Usually, I would be weirded out by this out-of-character touching, but this is what I needed. "You mean a lot to me, Dixon. I love you like family... You are my family."