Daisy | The Walking Dead

15. Cranky

~Day sixty-two~

Daisy's voice quivered with fear as a resounding "No!" sounded from her shaking lips and echoed through the small, auditorium-esque room that the rag-tag group of survivors found themselves in. 

Her tiny fists were clenched so tightly in front of her that her knuckles had turned bone-white, her whole body rigid with tension. Slowly, she found herself retreating, her back pressing against the cold, unforgiving wall of the room.

"I won't do it!" she huffed, frustration dripping from her words as she stomped her foot in defiance.

Dr. Edward Jenner, the CDC doctor responsible for opening the shutters, let out an exasperated sigh, weariness etched into the lines on his face. "Sweetheart, I understand your fear, but we must ensure your well-being. We need to examine your blood for any signs of infection."

"It's just a tiny prick," he reassured, gesturing toward Sophia and Carl, who stood at the back of the room. "Your friends have already gone through it. They can tell you it's not as scary as it looks."

Daisy glanced at Sophia and Carl, their faces radiating comfort and encouragement. Yet, fear clung to her tightly, clouding her judgment, refusing to release its grip.

Having witnessed Andrea nearly faint after her blood was drawn, Daisy Linette adamantly refused, shaking her head vigorously in protest.

Glenn stepped forward, his voice gentle yet persuasive. "Daisy, we were all scared, but we had to go through with this. It's for our safety and the safety of everyone else. Dr. Jenner knows what he's doing."

Daisy's gaze scanned the room, searching the faces of all the adults who surrounded her. To her, at that moment, it felt as though nobody was on her side. 

"Come on, Dais," T-dog approached, standing beside Glenn. "You have to do it, little friend."

"Miss Daisy," Rick said, "everything is okay, it wont hurt."

Lori, Jacqui, Shane, Carol—each of them echoed similar sentiments, their pleas blending with their attempts to provide reassurance. However, their patience wore thin, evident in their strained expressions and rolling eyes.

Exhaustion and hunger gnawed at Daisy, intensifying her defiance and eroding her usually composed demeanor. With an uncharacteristic rebelliousness, she resolved to raise hell if necessary. That needle would not touch her.

To say she was merely cranky would be an understatement. She abandoned her usual coping mechanisms of fidgeting with her fingers or withdrawing into herself. Instead, she found herself in full-blown tantrum mode.

Her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for an escape or a hiding spot. They scanned the nooks and crannies beneath chairs and desks, darting between the two doors.

"Please, Little D," T-dog pleaded, his voice filled with earnestness. "It'll only take a couple of seconds, darlin'."

Growing increasingly frustrated with the continuous stream of requests, Daisy's frantic gaze finally landed on Daryl. With a burst of determination, she hurriedly dashed towards him, her steps clumsy and uncoordinated. She hoped that he would act as a protective shield, guarding her from the intimidating needle.

Regardless of whether he would genuinely defend her or not, Daisy didn't care. In fact, she doubted he would speak up in her favor. Yet, with his crossbow resting behind him and his stern expression, he appeared the scariest person in the room—a figure she herself had found intimidating until their encounter in the terrifying, dark forest when his warm hand had found hers.

Surely Dr. Jenner wouldn't dare approach her with the needle if Daryl stood by her side, his mere presence radiating a potent mix of protectiveness and quiet fortitude.