𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

56 | OVER THE EDGE

The sun had barely risen when Tori woke up, in her old bed, her old apartment. For a moment, it was like no time had passed. The world never fell apart, and she was still in her small corner of it, settled in her lonely life. It was only the gentle dip in the mattress next to her that brought her back to her reality. This was not the old world. Time had passed. Her life was not lonely.

Daryl's arm was loosely hung over her stomach whilst he lay on his side, and she lay on her back. The dawn made the city glow, the orange light seeping through the curtains, illuminating Daryl's face. He looked so peaceful when he slept; like all of the stress of the world, of what happened at Terminus, of searching for Beth, didn't exist. His breathing was deep and even, and Tori knew he needed the rest.

A very gentle kiss was left on his forehead as she carefully got out of bed and silently changed her clothes. Her knife was tucked into her belt as she buckled it around her waist and headed out of the apartment, heading down the stairwell that led straight into a green door.

Punching the code into the lock, the four numbers still memorised at the back in her head, it opened up for her, and she found herself behind the counter of her old store. Dust floated around within the rays of the sun, the deep yellows just reflections through the window, the light barely reaching the walls, and bouncing back again.

Records lined up on the shelf like books in a library, each sleeve a different colour, a different artist. Punching the side of the cash register, it popped open, revealing a few quarters and a couple of dollar bills she must have missed the last time she'd ever cashed up at the end of a working day.

The windows that panned across the shop front were dirty, covered in hand marks and scratches. All on the outside, which felt strangely comforting. Knowing that somehow, in all the chaos that filled this city, her little part of it hadn't been obliterated like so much around it had.

She wished she could have said the same for herself. She wished she could look at herself in the mirror and know that the world hadn't ruined her. It hadn't just yet, but it was definitely trying. More and more pressure every day to change who she was, what she believed in. Two lives. That's all she kept thinking about. Two lives, taken, by her hands. The girl that refused to push a bully when they threw the first hit.

Underneath the counter, Tori felt her bad thought begin to fade, and her heart flutter at the sight of her acoustic guitar; the first item she had brought for herself when she got her first job at sixteen. Fifteen years later, the instrument was still in pristine condition. She always made sure it was as perfect as it could be, replacing the strings, getting the small scuff in the mahogany wood.

Her hand wrapped around the neck, and she picked it up, sitting down on the high stool behind the counter. Holding it in her lap, she let her thumb lightly strum over the strings, an A chord echoing.

The corner of her lips curled upwards, just for a split second, as she played a few more chords. Careful not to be too loud. The notes began to form a tune, one that she recognised. Humming the tune, and whispering the lyrics under her breath, she let her mind wander. Back to the days she'd sit in this very spot and play any tune that came to mind. Sometimes they were random, just songs that she liked. Other times, the tunes were more fitting to her day, her mood.

She remembered one of her favourites...

"Every man has a right to live. Love is all that we have to give. Together we struggle by your will to survive. And together we fight just to stay alive."

Her voice was just above a whisper, slightly raspy, the melody slow and soft. She failed to hear the very light, almost silent footsteps descending the staircase behind her.