Red // Daryl Dixon

Aftereffects

We waited until the dinner hour rolled around, Sherry letting me know that's when the Sancturay hallways were the quietest. She also knew of Dwight's whereabouts, having been out all day on a mission to retrieve a resident who ran in the middle of the night. From what little Sherry had known, Dwight was the main man appointed to break Daryl in, getting him to conform. From what she had caught glimpses of, most of his day consisted of tormenting and draining Daryl from the confines of his cell. Based on all that I had known, it made sense that Dwight was chosen or maybe even volunteered to be the one to handle Daryl. There had been history between the two, much deeper than the only other time I had come face to face with Dwight.

That was one aspect that made this entire situation strange to navigate. I was putting my trust into the ex-wife of the man I tried so hard to kill on those train tracks all those weeks ago. I doubt Sherry had known that for herself, but she does know that her ex-husband, in some sense, is a traitor. It was strange, this feeling in my chest when it came to Sherry. I don't know her well, but I can already see there are so many sides to her. When she speaks about Negan, there is fear in her tone, but that fear is not reserved for herself, it is for those around her. But then when she speaks about Dwight, there is longing in her eyes, as if she is remembering what once was, but then her voice cracks with so much disappointment in him as well.

I try and push those thoughts to the back of my mind as I walk alongside Sherry. She chats away about nothing in particular as she leads me through the central room of the Sanctuary, making it look as if we are lost in a world of gossip, not drawing anyone's attention. She speaks to me about how excited she is about the new seeds that were brought in for the gardens. A Saviour passes us by as Sherry drones on about how great it is going to be to now have some sweet strawberries growing. No one gives us a second glance at our mundane conversation. Although, they do have my curiosity. I pay close attention as we walk. It seems as if the area we are walking through now is momentarily set up similar to a small market. I see one stand in the corner where a Saviour drops down a fresh basket of tomatoes. I watch as he sifts through the basket, handing to best of the tomatoes to only a few lucky residents, while the majority of them get either not yet ripe or dented produce. The room is fairly loud as people pass by each other's stations, looking for things to trade one item for the next.

I heard Frankie bring it up briefly earlier, how most of the people living here spend their lives working for points. Their days are consumed with doing hard labour, only to be rewarded with a few points to get them by. It looks like a system setup where the more points you have the better the things you can come by are. For example, fresher fruits and vegetables, or a larger space to call your own. However, I see the system for what it is, a tactic to keep this many people under Negan's control. Give them hope and a roof over their heads, but never enough room to actually get anywhere but remain at the bottom.

I pay close attention to the hallways and stairwells Sherry leads me down, taking inventory of standout indicators I wasn't able to the last time I had been dragged down here. For 24 hours I may have been right beside Daryl without even knowing. But, then the thought of his living conditions slowly crept in and I pushed Sherry and I into a faster pace. When I had been tossed into that cell my knees hit the numbing cement floor first. There was nothing but the four stone walls and brass metal door to keep me company. I remember the air was dry and so cold that even curling into a ball and hugging myself close was not enough to shield me from the ice that had seeped into my bones. The room had been so dark that I could not even make out my hand as I held it before me. The only light that seemed to seep through was the crack under the door when I assumed it was morning. To think that has been Daryl's reality for the last two weeks when I could not even handle 24 hours was enough to make my heart thump inside my chest as we reached the final stairwell to the cell block.