my tears ricochet

Chapter Forty Seven

Daryl knew where he was going. The smoke and ruins hung in his shadow as he stormed the yard, kicking one walker hard before driving a rock through it's head. The motions were almost mechanical, death and destruction, that comfortable violence wrapping tight around his fist.

His daughter was gone. The man below had terrorized her; cracked her open just to enjoy her screams. Daryl had sworn a promise to return the pain and he wouldn't fail her this time.

Memories rose in his head. A burning barn, reuniting on a roadside. Opening the door and finding a reflection of his own heart tangled up with a switchblade. Carrying Ivy's body and feeling her blood plaster his shirt to his chest, those stubbornly desperate fingers reaching for his own knife.

Gunfire had lured dozens of walkers in from the roads and woods. The explosions had sent them into a wild frenzy, shuffling as an eager mass over the gardens, uncaring where their feet stepped. Fresh dead offered him some leeway as he crossed the distance, undisturbed while walkers gorged themselves on bloodied offerings. Home was wherever they planted their dead and his were all buried in the yard, disturbed and violated by the attack.

Rick was on his back with Phillip pinning him, both men howling from pain and rage. Daryl swung his crossbow out and caught a walker across the chin to send it backwards onto the ground before stomping his foot down on it's throat. The mouth stretched wide as the force severed the skull from the body and Daryl pushed closer, feeling helpless darkness creep over him.

The bus was gone. The friendly fire was fading out.

Daryl had pushed the line as far as he could; tossing a grenade, shooting a man with his arms raised. The tank itself was a smouldering ruin left in the courtyard. Whoever was still fighting was on their own, clinging to the remains of a life they had spent so long building.

The last time he had seen Ivy was when she was running away, ducking behind the low fence as she went. He had sworn that he would find her after but she had been silent, unnerving in her cool anger.

He didn't blame her.

He knew where the blame laid. It was on his shoulders like the weight of the sky, but the chain also extended to Phillip's own decayed heart. The crossbow dropped and Daryl grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him backwards off of Rick. "That was my fucking daughter," he snarled as he drove his fist into Phillip's face. He did it again, breaking the man's teeth with the force of his punch. "I fucking told you, this day was coming."

Phillip had been cool arrogance that day, carelessly dismissing Daryl like he were no better than a dog.

He wanted to see the man's teeth on the ground. When he came back, he wouldn't be capable of damage to anyone. The air was alive with screaming and Daryl savoured it, throwing him hard onto the grass and kicking his face. A new shriek of pain wrenched the sky, that pale bruised blue, dividing it right through the horizon. Rick peeled himself off of the ground and staggered across the yard, oblivious to Daryl's revenge. 

The ribs cheerfully broke when Daryl switched his focus. He was sitting on top of the man and had him pinned, striking down with effective punches that Merle had once taught him. 'Kidneys, lungs. You wanna make a fucker regret breathing when you finish up. You got that?'

Ivy had suffered for his interest. She was going to be a trophy in his mind. Daryl was going to leave his face looking like a grave. He wanted to look back and see a hole; broken teeth, a dented face. His daughter had thrown a chair at him to try and escape and it hadn't been enough. How afraid had she been when she realized the wall was at her back, that the fight kept going when she had nothing left to arm herself with?