Norman Reedus Imagines

Damaged (1) (Daryl)

- Imagine: Y/N's struggle with the world ending has taken a toll on her, but she's found ways to cope. Once Daryl finds out he becomes extremely upset. (Trigger Warning)

Ever since this all started, I've had to find some way to feel something other than constant heartbreak over losses and other mistakes. Whenever I could escape or fade away from the group, my trusty blade and I would hang out for a bit.

Tonight I was supposed to take watch in the guard towers, it was getting pretty dark out, so I figured that I would head over. Snatching my bag, I made my way for the tower.

Once I made it up to the tower, I set all of my things to the side and plopped down on the ground. My back was resting against the wall as I fiddled with my pocket knife. I kept opening and closing it, wanting to be sure if it was the right time. It was pretty dark out, so I assume no one would come up here. Being that everyone probably turned in for the night. I pulled my sleeve past my elbow on my right forearm, revealing my past scars. I flipped the pocket knife open and got to work.

All of a sudden, I heard footsteps coming up the stairwell. I panicked and accidentally pulled the blade a little to fast out of fear. My arm was shaking due to how deep I had cut. Before I would just graze my skin, but this was going to need aid.

Not wasting any time, I slid the pocket knife across the floor and watched as it hid behind a stack of boxes in the corner of the room. Out of sight, out of mind. I yanked my sleeve down past my wrist and pressed the fabric to the new cuts. I winced in pain a little, but quickly masked my expressions.

Daryl walked in and as he met my gaze, he slowly set down his crossbow. He looked to me like I had two heads. Meanwhile I was panicking trying to find a way to get the hell out of here before he noticed.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a hint of annoyance and curiosity hidden in his tone. I quickly tried to come up with something, anything to tell him without him asking too many questions.

"Keeping watch." I said in a sort of "duh" tone. He shrugged and started to move the boxes around. My nerves started to pick up as I could feel my heart ready to explode.

"Well, Rick said it's my shift, go get some sleep." He said. He paused and stared down at something that caught his eye. I didn't get a chance to see, but I had a good idea of what I might have been. He looked back to me with a look of shock, and then back to the spot he was investigating.

Before he could say anything, I grabbed my bag and started to head for the door. As I reached out for the doorknob, he grabbed my arm and yanked it towards him. I winced in pain and tried my best to break free of his grasp, but he was a lot stronger than I was. He then looked down to my sleeve and his hard, stern facial expression became relaxed, almost as if he was in shock. I followed his gaze and saw that a large patch of blood stained my sleeve.

"Daryl, I-" before I could finish my sentence, he yanked my sleeve down and saw the new cuts on my arm. Along with the old ones that have somewhat healed. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me with him down the stairs towards the prison.

"Daryl, stop!" I said trying my hardest to break free of his grasp. I kicked, yelled and even begged. No use, he wasn't letting up. As we neared closer and closer to the prison, I managed to worm my way out of his grasp.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yelled at him, clutching my arm and trying to soothe it.

"Me? I'm not the one tryin to kill myself!" He shouted and laced back and forth. Almost as if he had somewhere to be but couldn't make up his mind as of where to go first. I rolled my eyes as soon as he jumped to that conclusion.

"You don't get it, it's not like that!"

Then what was it, huh? Because it looked like you were cuttin yourself last time I checked!" He yelled as he stepped closer to me and made the motion of cutting his wrists with his hands. He got a little too close so I shoved him back and watched as he stood there, breathing heavy and enraged.

"Why do you even care? What's your deal Daryl!? After I said this, he looked away for a moment, but then stormed up to me just as before, but kept a respectable distance and his tone remained steady.

"Stop tryin to feel so sorry for yourself! People have it a lot harder than you. Tryin to cope with the world as it is, you think you're the only one? You don't get it! Everything is gone! Nothing will ever be the same! If you wanna check out, be my guest. Just don't drag the rest of us down with you." He finished and stormed off to the prison. Leaving me standing there with my soul shattered.

I held back the tears as best as I could as I quickly walked back to the guard tower. I climbed the stairs two at a time and practically threw myself in the room slamming the door behind me. I collapsed Into the small pile of old couch cushions and blankets that were left up here for those who had long shifts and let all of my sorrow out. My face was buried in all of the fabric, absorbing my tears and muffling my cries.

What Daryl said hurt, but I don't know what hurt the most. What he said, or realizing that everything he did say was absolutely true.

I curled up in the pile of cloth and slowly began to feel myself drift off to sleep. I placed my hand over where I had cut myself and pushed my sleeve down over my hand to hide them.

Within seconds, I was out like a light.