Claimed Memories

1/4

The effect of the alcohol was leaving him, and though his heart had still felt heavy while the booze clouded his mind, although the sadness, bitterness, and pain hadn't left him since they lost the prison that was their home, now it started to grow even more, to become unbearable again, as if someone was ripping his heart, as if he could drown in pain.

Daryl welcomed it, though. That's how he should feel, he didn't deserve any relief from it, not after losing his home, his family, his wife, without him doing anything to stop it.

Beth had fallen asleep there on the porch of the tattered cabin, drunk. It was the girl's fault that he was drunk too, she hadn't stopped until he'd found them booze.

He'd been a prick to her, he knew, but it seemed Beth didn't hold it against him. He just hadn't been able to hear her talk like that anymore, like if their family might be alive, somewhere, like they weren't dead, like she hadn't seen her own father beheaded in front of her, talking about tracking them, about how he could find Y/N, it felt like too much.

Y/N.

She was gone, he knew she was. Even if Beth was right, even if she might have been able to run away from the prison too, he wouldn't see her ever again. How was he going to find her? He couldn't just track her and the others like that, it didn't work that way, no matter what Beth believed. Either way, Y/N was gone, and probably dead. He left his wife die. He had lost the Governor when tracking him down, had stopped searching for him, and then he'd come back, destroyed his home, killed his people. He'd lost Y/N.

Daryl bit his lip to stifle a whimper, rubbing his eyes furiously, ashamed, he didn't want Beth to wake up and see him like that again, but he couldn't help it, he felt nauseous, he felt as if his heart were being ripped out of his chest and devoured by walkers.

Rick was gone too, he had gone out to try and talk with the Governor, even though Daryl had known that wouldn't work, and when the shooting started Daryl hadn't seen him anymore, he didn't know if he'd been killed. Carl...he had given the kid one of the riffles, but he'd lost him too during the shooting.

Judith...he didn't even know where she had been, with the other kids, he guessed, he thought the kids had gone to the bus but he wasn't sure, maybe the baby was gone too, maybe all them were...

Daryl couldn't take it anymore and he rushed onto his feet and stumbled a few steps away from the porch before throwing up. He stumbled back to the porch, flopped down again, reached for the jar of moonshine, swallowing greedily the few drops that were left inside, begging for it to make him numb, he couldn't deal with this anymore, he didn't want to feel anymore...

Y/N... She'd be so upset seeing him drunk like this. She never drank. He hadn't drunk during all their time together. But he didn't feel like he could be sober anymore.

Y/N...

He met her at the quarry...but they didn't get along back then, damn, he didn't get along with anybody of his group back then.

He hadn't talked much with her back then anyway, though she had, a couple of times, showed interest in tracking and hunting, asking him about it, as she seemed eager to learn anything useful to surviving, which he'd respected. He'd tried, told her a few things, showed her a couple, but he hadn't been sure of how to act around her, and it had ended up in them arguing kind of often.

Besides, her arguments with his brother made her soon stop asking anything to him too. Daryl knew Y/N couldn't stand his brother, and in his eyes, back then it'd been enough for him to be annoyed by her. She'd snapped every time Merle said something racist, sexist or homophobic, arguing with him every time that he was...himself.