The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

fortyfive.

I scowl upon seeing that the familiar voice belongs to none other than Dwight the blonde fucking asshole; he saunters out of the forest with his hand on a very terrified Eugene. The bastard comes to a stop in front of us, barely a few feet away, forcing Eugene to his knees. I hang my head, glaring while I lower my gun. Memories of the burned forest resurface, playing on a reel in my mind. I should've aimed a little higher.

To top off my great mood, Denise just fucking died because of me. Maybe Daryl and Rosita were right; it was a bad idea. I've been too fucking reckless and stupid.

"Well, hell. You got something to say to me? You gonna clear the air?" Dwight gestures to Daryl and me, waiting for either of us to speak, "step up on that high horse? No. You don't talk as much as your girl does. Whew, she's annoying. Women, am I right?" He grins, motioning for his men to disarm us. I raise my hands, not fighting back. Though everything in me is dying to tell this douche bag exactly how his new burnt face matches his ugly soul. But I'm learning there's a time and place, and now isn't the time. Anger for Daryl and Rosita has flamed out, while it's ablaze for Dwight and it's begging for his blood. Dwight points to my archer's crossbow. "Still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch, but--"

"I should've done it." Daryl silently snarls.

Dwight cocks his head, "oh, what's that? Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I should've killed you."

I raise my chin, scowling, "I should've killed your bitch. How's she doing by the way?"

For a second, I observe as he falters under my questions. Trouble in paradise, perhaps? Dwight considers our words, grinning. "Yeah, you probably should've. So, here we are. Kind of begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. It was your girlfriend. Like I said, kicks like a bitch. It's nothing personal. Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but, well, you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?" His eyes find me, "oh and Vanessa? Someone you know very well asked me to deliver a message: 'I'm here and I'm coming for you.' He was very interested in learning about our little adventure with you and Daryl."

My eyes widen, peering at each person standing in front of us, searching for his face. I relax a little upon discovering that he isn't before us. Though, it doesn't stop the color from draining out of my face, the blood in my veins turning ice cold like someone has splashed me with freezing cold water, and fear creeps along my spine. Any retort I had dies on my tongue. My hand trembles under his words while I stay rooted in place, unable to move. Shaking my head in denial.

"He's not here, but he's looking forward until he gets to see you, again." Venom drips into the bastards tone. "Soon."

Owen stands before the judge in his orange jumpsuit as the guilty verdict is met out and the sentencing is being read. The weight of the world falls off of me, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Kelly drags me into his arms. I sob into his chest. It's finally over. "It's okay. You're finally safe." He rubs my back, "you did it. You're so fucking brave, babe."

I glance up for a brief moment, my blue eyes meeting his green eyes. "I will be back," he mouths, grinning as the police forcefully remove him from the courtroom.

"Who the hell are ya talkin' bout?!" Daryl snarls, dragging me out of my memory and back into reality. Daryl's questioning blue eyes find me.

Dwight cocks his head at me, smiling and laughing, pointing to me with my archers crossbow. "She knows. Awe, what's wrong? Not so cocky now, warrior princess, are ya? Or should I say, minx."

"Vanessa, what is he talking about?" Rosita's concerned eyes meet mine.

"No one." I whisper, swallowing the lie. "A ghost is all."