•A DARYL DIXON STORY•
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you leave and you don't look back."
"Daryl," she sighed softly, shaking her head.
"No, I mean it," he argue...
'There is a stubbornness about me that can never bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.' -Jane Austen
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DARKNESS surrounded her. Deep, unforgiving, consuming darkness. The pungent, dusty smell of old wood filled her nostrils, accompanied by the stark iron fragrance of blood. Hers? It seemed too old to be hers. Her skin itched from the pinpricks of moldy hay tickling her neck and arms.
As Zepp's eyes accustomed to that insufferable dark, and she returned to consciousness, she could make out that it wasn't actually that dark at all. The tall wooden walls were strewn with holes from old age where the golden sunlight filtered in. Milk pails sat in the corner along with rakes and a rusty pitchfork. Too small to be a barn, it had to be a shed of some kind.
Hands tied behind her back, she scooted into the corner farthest from the door. The only escape route she could see was the one door, more than likely watched by god knows who. Did the men she killed have others? Did they see the carnage she left behind? She struggled against the binds on her wrists until her skin was rubbed raw.
A man's gruff voice just outside kept her frozen in place. "Why the hell would you bring her here!? We don't know if this girl has a group that's gonna come looking for her and you led them right to us! Having the kid in the barn is dangerous enough, what were you thinking!?"
They had to be with those men. They found her, followed her tracks and found what she did to their people. This was their revenge. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood to keep from screaming in rage.
"She ain't got a group, she's on her own. Wasn't gonna let her die in the road like that." That rough, yet quiet voice struck some sort of familiar chord in her ear.
"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?" The other one grunted exasperatingly.
"Mmm." The only response before the door flung open, blinding her with that golden sunlight.
She scooted farther into the corner as the two men watched her from the door way. She was so close to breaking her wrists free, just needed a little more time.
Then she recognized that face. That piercing, burning gaze. The man she met at the creek just yesterday.
Daryl.
If the world was small before, she supposed it's even smaller now. She felt so stupid for not connecting that he was with those men, the sheer fact that she ran into to them in the same day should not have been lost on her.
Now he stood in the doorway, more relaxed than when he was across the creek. Almost soft, hesitant. Next to him was a thick, muscular man, his eyes dark, glowing with something she couldn't place. Like he was out for blood. He ran a too large hand over his shaved skull and shook his head, gritting his teeth as he looked her up and down. She sneered at his accusatory gaze and strained at the binds of her wrist.
