Fight With You - Daryl Dixon TWD

Chapter Six

What Now?

We had retreated up the stairs from hell to the roof, where T-dog was still trying to get a hold of their group on the outside and Merle...

Well, he was just being Merle.

I had honestly never heard a man spew so much shit in my life, and I'm from England. Our Prime Minister was a hands-down bull-shitter and we all knew it. David Cameron was a twat, but at least he wasn't as bad as Boris Johnson. That's a grade-A cunt if you ask me, which nobody did.

Anyway, back to the point.

Merle made more passes at me, getting dirtier and dirtier until Andrea told him to can it.

"Merle just shut the fuck up, no woman with the slightest hint of standards would ever consider sleeping with you."

I mean, it's true. I would've worded it differently though. He just turned around, called her a 'rug muncher' and kept quiet.

Walking away from them, I leant on the ledge and watched the dead stumble through the street.

As I looked down at them, I had the weirdest feeling that I'd forgotten something.

The worst part about forgetting something. You can't remember what you'd forgotten.

I sigh, shaking my head and walking from the ledge to my bag, rifling through the pouches until I grasp my roller and Bacci. Sitting on the ground just out of Merle's reach, I begin the action-filled task of rolling a cig.

"Hey, girlie."

I turn to Merle as I put the paper in the machine, eyebrows raised in question.

"My name is Meg."

He nods his head, grinning like a fool.

"I know that." He said, "I jus' like winding ya'll up. You's about as easy to get all riled up as it is to make Darylina stroppy like a lil bitch."

I had no idea who this 'Darylina' was, but the son of a bitch must've had it rough dealing with this cunt. Seriously, it felt good to bring him down a peg or two.

"So, how's 'bout you roll me a lil smoke, eh Megsie?"

"Are you serious?" I scoff, turning to him with the freshly rolled cig in hand. "Why in the fresh hell would I ever give you anything after you not only elbowed me in the jaw but called me a whore and a rug muncher too?"

He looked me in the eye and all I could see was fake confidence.

Not the kind that changed their whole person when it was gone, but the kind that showed that he was scared. Just as scared as the rest of us here, trapped on a roof in the blazing sun, in the middle of Atlanta with no way to get out and no way 'home'.

Merle laughed and looked away, clearly not knowing what to say other than insult me again, which surprisingly he didn't.

I lit the cig and kicked Merle.