Please hold my hand || Daryl Dixon

22.

"Home sweet home." Glenn murmurs, going off with Maggie to find a cell to set up in.

I go off on my own, on high alert. Since we've stepped foot into the building I've felt my gut twist and turn uncomfortably. I still have yet to find anything wrong with this place at all, but I'm not dumb enough to ignore a strong feeling when I get one. I should be happy about this, we just hit the jackpot. But something is gnawing at me. There's this twisting in my stomach, it makes me feel as if it's warning me. I've always listened to my gut feelings.

I find a cell, exactly like the others, only difference is the blood that paints the walls has a different pattern.

Daryl claims he's not going to be sleeping in a cage but I will. These cells have strong doors, if something were to happen I could shut the door and be safe enough to pick the walkers off through the gaps.

I kick my bag under the bed, Daphne squirms in my arms with a restless whine. I'm not the only who can tell the air about this place is wrong, Daphne has been more cranky since we got here. Like mother like daughter.

From my cell I watch the men leave to check the rest of the prison with my brows furrowed.

Every bone, every muscle and every fibre of my entire being has me tense as I fight the undying urge to run and not stop.

I turn back into the small room. Day and night I've scrubbed this cell. Now only previous stains mark the walls.

I need something to do as thinking drives me nuts, thoughts and emotions aren't a good mix- much like chasing vodka with beer. I asked, almost begging, to go with the others to check the premises of any blind spots. They argued how I don't have a gun.

You see I would have a gun if it weren't for the fact that Daryl was uncomfortable with me having one and then Rick joined him and they ganged up on me.

Trust me, I fought for one. Now I have a secret one in my bag and in my shoe beside my ankle. Did they really think I'd give them the guns that I got over to them?

It bothers me how much they baby me. I have a daughter, yeah, that should give me more of a reason to have one. What do they think would happen if I were to be trapped by walkers with Daphne in my arms? That they would kneel and whine for a treat?

Ryder is with Carl most of the day, he sleeps in the cell with Daphne and I some nights. I haven't expressed my worries as I want him to enjoy this for however long it lasts, but I have been keeping him closer in sight lately.

And I've taken both of the mattresses off the metal bunk beds. I had taken the bed frame out of the room yesterday. Now the foam sheets are stacked on top of each other on the floor.

My bag is still packed. I refuse to take anything out of it and set it down in here before this feeling of mine fades away.

Daphne wakes from her nap, peeking her head up with a curious gaze. Her sleepy eyes roam the room before they land on me, and in her drowsy state she smiles lopsidedly. She pushes herself into sitting and reaches up at me.

A grin breaks out on my face and I bend down to scoop her up into my arms. She fiddles with the neckline of my shirt, indicating her hunger.

Yes, she still gets breastfed. It's completely normal and healthy. There's nothing that could make me turn to formula and have her potentially go hungry because the stores have run dry.

I make a sound of what is a mix of a reverse gasp and choke when Daphne tugs too hard on my shirt.

She giggles at me. Oh this fucker.

I tickle her sides and she squeals an adorable laugh. "That was not funny, Aph."

I feed her and then scope out the rest of cell block C. I need to make sure there's a quick escape as I hear a cry of desperation.