A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
"Caught before I hit the ground // Tell me I'm safe, you've got me now." - Take Me Home. Jess Glynne.
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Daryl wasn't sure what to expect when he got back to camp, but this hadn't even crossed his mind. Up ahead of them, in front of the house, a small crowd was stood around, shouting about something he couldn't see in the centre of the circle.
He glanced at Merle, seeing a similar look of confusion and concern on his face. They both sped up their pace, the buck Merle had heaved over his shoulder making it slightly difficult. Daryl could only focus on the sense of urgency coursing through his body.
This wasn't good. None of it was.
They reached the fence, crossing it mere seconds before he heard it and his blood ran cold.
A scream of anguish.
His head shot up at the sound. Merle's followed, though his older brother quickly looked to him, the look of painful realisation in his eyes mirroring what Daryl guessed could be seen in his own.
"Erin," they both said simultaneously, confirming each other's thoughts.
His brain had barely caught up with him before his legs were carrying him towards the sound, his crossbow slamming into his shoulders as he ran. As he grew closer, the scene became clearer and all sound disappeared from his head besides a loud ringing and Erin's cries.
The crowd they'd seen was made up of Carol, Lori, Dale, and Andrea. The first was sobbing, the second was silent, the third was angry, and the last was shouting. The rest of the camp was nowhere to be seen. In the centre of the haphazard circle, prowling and attacking his prey like a lion, was Shane.
And Daryl's heart dropped as he saw who his prey was.
She was cowering on the ground in front of Shane, her hands held defensively around her head, but Daryl would recognise that figure anywhere. Her jeans were torn at the knees, what was visible of her skin ripped, grazed, and bloody. His shirt, still hanging loosely on her frame as it had been when he'd left, had ridden up, exposing her abdomen to yet more grazes.
What he could see of her face was bloody, her features obscured by blood, dirt, and her hands which desperately shielded her head. Every inch of her was injured, every part of her covered in cuts and blood, every piece of Erin destroyed by the brutal man that stood in front of her.
As Shane reeled back to deal another blow, one of many from the looks of things, Daryl's body went into autopilot. His heartbeat thudded in his head. He crossed the gap between himself and the scene. Andrea noticed him first, turning to shout something at him, but he roughly shouldered her aside, his eyes ablaze.
Grabbing Shane's wrist before he had chance to hit Erin again, Daryl swiftly yanked it towards him, pulling hard and twisting as he did. Shane cursed loudly as an audible pop emitted from his twisted wrist, his gaze meeting Daryl's equally furious one. He made an attempt to throw his other fist at Daryl's head, but he was halted in his tracks by the sound of a gun cocking behind him.
