my tears ricochet

Chapter Eighty Six

'𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕'𝕧𝕖 𝕜𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕡𝕥

'ℂ𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖'

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕛𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖 - 𝕋𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕗𝕥

It was too late to go back.

"Are we pissing our pants yet? Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close."

A man sauntered down the short steps of the RV and let the door fall shut with a soft thump. He had a baseball bat propped up against his shoulder and the lights from the cars around them made the barbed wire glow like liquid mercury around the wood of it.

Daryl looked down the line and saw his family there. It was always them. From the beginning to the end, they were the only pieces he had left. Ivy's bright eyes met his and he tried to hold her gaze but she was spooked, focus darting between where they knelt and the man who surveyed them feigned mild interest.

The night beyond the clearing was as black as pitch. He could taste smoke and iron on the wind as it shifted through the audience with a soft touch, coolness brushing over his face and throat, stirring at Ivy's longer hair. Rosita shivered and Abraham had one hand locked around her arm like it was the only thing keeping her upright, that without him holding her steady, she would burn out entirely.

"Which one of you pricks in the leader?"

"It's this one," someone said, pointing at Rick. There was an eagerness in the motion of it, that quick jab to where Rick was kneeling. People wanted to see violence. They were waiting for it, sharp with anticipation.

He drew close, a shark tasting blood, and stopped directly in front of where Rick was kneeling helpless in the dirt. "Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan."

Daryl tried not to think about how Ivy was stuck between Rick and Aaron, that the baseball bat was so close to where she was pinned to that space.

He shut his eyes and focused on the burning pain in his shoulder. Dwight had shot him and someone ruthlessly mended him enough to stand and feel coherence but the pain lingered, endless, like a sharp fire trapped inside his bones and skin.

"I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. You have no idea what kind of shit you started," Negan drawled. "But, I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah, you are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes."

Daryl opened his eyes and saw plain fear on Rick's face. It had been so long since the cards had fallen the other way, that the man was helpless against the odds. And Negan had the luck of people, of clear weaponry. It was the same as being caught on a road in the dark with Joe's wild men coming up on Rick and Michonne, dragging Carl out across the pavement.

Raw fear was poison. It made Rick look small. It made everyone look smaller.

Ivy's fingers trembled against her knees.

Negan smiled and edged down the line slightly. "You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here it goes," he dropped the bat down and the motion made Rick flinch. "Give me your shit... or I will kill you."

Ivy was supposed to be home. It was late and she should have been asleep. The walls would have protected her from this awful place and she needed to be there; needed to be safe. Daryl's mind was frantically trying to process the scene and kept getting caught on the fact that she wasn't wearing a jacket. It was cold and Ivy was wearing one of his flannels that she liked stealing because she thought he didn't recognize the theft, the oversized fit making her look even smaller. And she didn't have a jacket.