Future Ghosts • TWD

87. Maybe.

Rosita was able to patch up Eugene, which was very much a relief. The bullet had only grazed him, and the antibiotics that Denise picked up saved his life. Abraham and Eugene made up. Daryl hadn't said a word to Rosie, and Rosie was too scared to say anything to him. Once they knew that Eugene was ok, Daryl went to bury Denise's body, and Rosie went straight home.

Daryl wasn't there when Rosie eventually fell asleep, and he wasn't there when she woke up, either. So, Rosie carefully made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Maybe if she just acted like everything was normal, he would, too. Probably not, though. She sat down at the table with a glass of water, but she wasn't really thirsty. She just sat there at the table with her chin in her arms, unsure of what to do.

That was when the door swung open. Rosie jumped when it slammed back shut, and she looked up to see Daryl. He looked at her for only a moment before walking straight past her, going up the stairs to get something from the bedroom. When he came back down the stairs, Rosie was still at the table, but now sitting up straighter and tapping her hand on the table anxiously. Daryl almost just walked right past her and left, but he let his anger get the best of him.

"You lied to Abraham," he started with. He wasn't yelling just yet, but the anger he felt was made clear by his heavy breathing and intense glare.

"'M sorry," Rosie murmured, unsure of what else to tell him.

"I told you I don't want you goin' out there no more. Next fuckin' day, you do the exact thing I told you not to do," Daryl was nearly shouting now. His voice was tense and angry, and it made Rosie's stomach hurt.

"I just wanted to help Eug-"

"It's dangerous, Rosie!" Daryl snapped.

Rosie didn't know what to say. "I'm tough," she said. It was dangerous, but she was tough, and she made it.

"You're a fuckin' kid. You're tough for a kid. I know ya like to think you're just as capable of handlin' yourself as Rick, or Maggie, or me, but you ain't, Rosie! You're a fuckin' kid! You need to understand that!" Daryl lectured. Rosie listened with her eyebrows furrowed, trying not to let the lump in her throat melt into tears.  "Any a' those guys coulda' killed you, or taken you, or done whatever the hell they wanted to do! They obviously want somethin' to do with ya; they were askin'  for your name."

"I didn't know they'd be out there," Rosie reasoned, her voice shaky.

"You didn't know who or what the hell coulda' been out there, and that's why you don't fuckin' go out there!" Daryl shouted. He looked away for a moment, shaking his head and rubbing his face. "Ya know how selfish that is, you doin' that?" he asked.

"Goin' out there don't hurt nobody but myself," Rosie argued, her voice raising a bit now, too.

"Yes, it does!" Daryl yelled even louder this time, slamming his hand down on the counter and making Rosie flinch. He didn't seem to notice, though, because he only continued. "You think I wanna see my kid get shot in the head like that, Rosie?!" Rosie didn't say anything. "You think we'd all be just fine after seein' that?! That what you fuckin' think?!"

"Stop it! You're scarin' me!" Rosie shouted as loudly as she could. Surprisingly, Daryl actually did. He stopped saying anything and just stared at the bruise on her cheek, taking in heavy, angry breaths. After a moment, he turned and started heading towards the door. "Wait! Where're you goin'?!" Rosie shrieked.

"To do what I shoulda' fuckin' done in the first place," Daryl replied before slamming the door shut. Rosie ran after him, but by the time she got outside, he was already on his motorcycle. She shouted for him to stop! and wait! but he didn't stop or wait. He just kept going.