•A DARYL DIXON STORY•
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you leave and you don't look back."
"Daryl," she sighed softly, shaking her head.
"No, I mean it," he argue...
'I am not my worst days, I am not what happened to me.' -rupi kaur
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TIME is a fickle notion. It goes by the same as always, yet somehow it always feels different. Zeppelin knew it was passing, though there was nothing in the cramped, dusty train car to give her any sense of it. The survivors barely let their voices travel above a whisper as they huddled in their small groups together.
They could hear guards walking by every now and then, though Zepp only counted two pairs of feet at any given time. Veronica finally broke the silence between them, her voice cracking from disuse.
"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you.." she murmured, swiping a stray tear dripping down her cheek. "I just- I thought you were just scared to trust people."
Zeppelin grimaced and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Now you see why," she retorted. Even in the dim light, she could see Veronica's face drop, though she quickly tried to hide it. Zepp had never been good at biting her words.
Thankfully, Veronica pushed on, straightening her shoulders against the cool metal wall. "What are we going to do?"
Some of the others turned at the tentative question meant only for Zeppelin's ears.
She cleared her throat, searching for anything that could resemble an answer. "We'll fight," she finally settled on.
Veronica breathed a laugh, shaking her head at Zepp's questioning gaze. "You've always been the fighter."
Is that true?
Yes, she had a reputation in school. Too quickly swallowed by anger, her first reaction was always the physical. Bullies, mean girls, racists, even some idiot just doing what idiots do, it didn't matter. They all looked the same when she saw red. Her mother was called to meet with the principal and guidance counselors countless times in the hopes they could find the source of the problem, though she never once showed up.
But if she was being honest, Zepp never wanted to be the fighter. She just always wanted someone to fight for her, too.
She rapped her fist against Veronica's calf halfheartedly and turned back to stare at the door. The people of Terminus had taken their weapons, unsurprisingly, and she glowered at the fact that one of them must have dipped their fingers into the waistband of her jeans to find the dagger she had kept hidden there.
Her gaze switched to a wooden beam in the center of the train car, the bottom corner cracking and splintering, and she scooted over to untie her boots. Looping the laces around the jagged edge, she began sawing away. She could hear Rosita's soft, admiring chuckle from behind her as she peered to see her work before plopping down next to Veronica.
