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-Chapter sixty eight; East-
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TAYLOR
DARYL NEVER DID COME HOME that night.
She sat at the dining table for half an hour, hoping he'd walk through the door and have dinner with her, but he never showed up.
Sighing, she wrapped his plate of food in tinfoil and placed it in the fridge before writing on a sticky note and stuck it to the door.
Daryl,
Your serving of dinner is in the fridge. Just warm it up in the microwave, it's your favorite. Just so you know, whenever you're ready to come talk to me, I'm here. I'll always be here for you.
Taylor
The following morning, she sought out her father, finding him on guard duty at the gate, asking him where Daryl currently was.
"Don't know. Haven't seen him this morning. He uh...came to me last night; crying...drunk. Had a whole bag of empty whiskey bottles. I...I haven't seen him like that in a long time..." He replied.
"...He's like a father to me...I'm worried about him. I...I haven't seen him like this since Merle's death..." She mumbled.
"...He'll be okay...it's just...he gets stupid when he's like this...so...so just make sure he doesn't do anything he'll regret." He explained.
She nodded, "Mhm. Thanks, dad.".
So, for her morning, she just at her and Daryl's house working on more paintings.
Jordyn and Kenny came over to hang out a bit before leaving, and she then decided to take a walk and get some air.
She saw Daryl out on their driveway, getting on his bike.
"Daryl! Are you alright!? I haven't seen you since yesterday." She said, rushing up to him.
He didn't respond, downing anoth one of those Jack Daniel's bottles.
"...Have you eaten? Your dinners still in the fridge." She pointed out.
"Yer comin' wit' me. Grab yer stuff." He muttered, tossing the bottle to the concrete, it smashing into tiny little pieces.
