my tears ricochet

Chapter Thirty Two

It was like standing in the quarry while Rick tried to explain how his brother didn't play or work well with others again. He felt the heat from that summer burn his neck, felt the way his world collapsed in on itself. Daryl hadn't taken the easy shot out by the granary because he was trying to play along with a team, trying to see what options they had to survive the worst of it.

He should have just been selfish.

Daryl rushed for the stairs, trying to clear the passage to get to their portion of the courtyard that was still safe from snipers. Ivy had been down there with a rifle checking their sight lines in the daylight. She wasn't much good with the kick back it gave but it was good practise for her, checking her aim and positioning herself around a target.

The pistol was fine but eventually she would have to learn the art that went into real shooting, the way to lean into the wind and calculate distance with gravity and force.

Rick tried to grab him and Daryl hit blindly, his fist connecting with the man's shoulder and forcing him backwards. He took that space to move faster, drawing in on his daughter from where she looked up, dropping the gun down to the ground.

It was worse than when Michonne had arrived to the prison fence like a wraith of death, carrying a token of his daughter. Daryl knew that monsters were coming and he wasn't going to wait for someone to drag her away again. His heart was a drum in his chest and he was moving faster than he could properly comprehend.

"Start walking," he warned Ivy, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her to move with him. His mind was locked somewhere between fight and flight and it made his hand squeeze tighter, suppressing her reflex to pull away.

"Hey!" Rick snapped, coming up at his heels. "We're not done talking."

"Don't care," he muttered, moving along the reinforced guarding. Oscar had shoved up metal benches to help layer the pallets upright, a good zone to shoot from. It was better than when the Governor had first laid fire into the prison and they had all been ducked behind weak little defences. Carol had been pinned down on the ground behind Axel's body with nothing better to block the bullets with. Time had given them the possibility to reimagine the space, dragging out old computers and filing cabinets, anything to strengthen their position.

The two of them would would nothing but the clothes on their backs. Ivy had a gun and her knife which was better than nothing. He knew the woods enough that they could plant real distance from the danger at their heels, push far enough out that the man would become an afterthought. They didn't need walls and they didn't need to trust anyone else to keep them safe.

No one would be turning Ivy over.

Michonne was clearly a petty grudge for Phillip. The woman needed to start running sooner than later.

Ivy was different. His violence had been preverse, drawn out. It went beyond a physical brawl to the death. Daryl wondered for the second time how far down the darkness went, how many girls existed between Ivy and the first. He couldn't save Michonne but he would his kid.

When Rick got close enough, Daryl hauled Ivy into his side and yanked out his piece. He turned and aimed it at the man. Shane wasn't around to knock him back in a chokehold and Daryl felt that particular absence, his finger hovering over the trigger.

"She ain't going back there," Daryl swore, sliding the safety back. "I'll put a bullet in her first."

Ivy went stiff, her nails digging into his arms. He didn't care if she tried to fight him. It would be easier to drag her along kicking and hitting than it would be to mercy kill, to let that man take her again.