chapter fifty-five : the night before { season four - episode five }
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"YOU LOOK LIKE shit," Daryl Dixon started, his left hand holding onto the strap of his crossbow as he stood in the entrance to the cell Kloe was in.
Kloe let out a small, chesty laugh - a cough flaring up in her throat. She turned her head to the side, setting her brown eyes on the man, who wore a cloth over his nose and mouth. "Thanks."
"How're you holding up?" he queried.
"Never been better," she responded sarcastically, barely able to stick her thumb up to the man. She lowered her hand back down to her side when she noticed the amount of blood stains on her hand.
Daryl, who seemed to notice the unfamiliar color painted on her hand, frowned at the woman, "You've been coughing blood?"
Kloe blinked, "Yeah, I guess." She shrugged, parting her lips to breathe more clearly through her airways. It felt like she was breathing pure dust when she inhaled through her nose.
Daryl shared a glance with the ground in front of him before looking back up at the woman who watched him. "Thanks for not dying on me yesterday," he said, sending her a single nod.
She returned with a tight-lipped smile, her lips chapped and discolored. "You're welcome, Dixon. This bitch right here is immortal," she pointed at herself, weakly smirking as she watched Daryl chuckle.
"Your brother wants to see you. He wants to see that you're okay," he informed her, remembering that the second reason he went up to her was because Zayn had asked him to. Little did he know Daryl had already planned to visit her anyway.
Kloe sighed, realizing she was going to have to find the insufficient strength within her to work her way down to the prison's visiting room. She bopped her head, signaling that she would go see him.
She slowly threw her legs over the bed, setting herself up and steaded her hands beside her as she let out a shaky breath. "Need any help?" Daryl offered, extending out his arms - ready to hold her.
"Nah, I got it," she replied. "Why don't you go check on someone else? I'll be fine." Kloe gripped onto the sink beside her, pushing all her weight onto it as she raised herself.
She caught a glance of herself in the mirror in front of her - except the glance lasted for at least five seconds. Kloe stared at herself. She almost looked...dead.
The bags underneath her eyes were jet black - not matching her insanely pale skin that would match the color of the clouds. Blood stained her lips from where she had coughed blood up previously; almost matching the scar that ran to her chin.
