Chaos for the Fly [The Walking Dead Fanfiction]

Chapter 8: Resign to oblivion

        It's been seven years to the day; I wonder if he remembers me? I feel so pathetic to even be thinking about it. He's just another boy who let me down. Still I can't stop myself from looking for him. I wonder, what does he look like now: that mess of brown hair, hiding those bright blue eyes. I took another drag of my cigarette, waiting for Mick to come out of the high school doors. I was still one year off, and he was a senior. Guess I never got over my interest in older guys. 

        Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't all a dream, and he doesn't even really exist. I wouldn't put it past myself. But sometimes, if I think really hard, I can still feel his arms around me, smell his musky scent. In fact, I barely can stand any guy who smelt too much like soap or cologne.

        A familiar feeling of being watched washed over me. Was he here? No he couldn't be. I had already made up my mind about hating him, and if I ever saw him again, I would shove a knife through both of his eye sockets. "Don't come for me. I don't want you anymore." I whispered to myself, thinking he'd somehow hear it. And then, I suddenly felt so incredibly alone; the feeling disappeared. I took another drag as Mickey slid down the rail to me. He took my cigarette, took the last drag and crashed his lips to mine. 

        "Hey there my little sweet pea. I'm hungry, so how's about the usual?" The usual. It involved a drive to a small town outside Atlanta, Lien's Gas. We stole hot dogs and soda while the woman behind the counter pretended to not notice. I always thought it was strange she let us get away with it, but mostly it made me angry. I hated to have people pity me. She deserved to lose that five dollars or so we got away with. Mick wrapped his arm around me talking up a storm about some blonde skank teacher, but I wasn't listening. 

        A shuffling in the distance caught my attention, as I ripped myself away from him. I only just caught a mess of brown hair and a sleeveless shirt. "What the hell, Alice?!" Mick yelled, but I walked further away from him. There was a familiar aching in my chest I thought was gone forever, but it was so fragile that a mere glimpse of someone that might have been him opened up the scar. I wanted to scream out to him again, but I couldn't find my voice. 

        My boyfriend's hand roughly found mine, and I was ripped away from my fantasy. "See somethin'?" He wasn't protective as much as he was possessive of me.

        I shook my head. "Not anymore." We walked to his beat up corvette, but I kept looking back. What if he did come back for me? This isn't some fairy tale, and I sure as hell wasn't anything worth coming back to. And still, if I would have called out to him again, would he have turned around? I have a feeling I'm going to regret my prideful silence. I'd never see him again. 

        Daryl couldn't sleep, and before he knew it, it was morning. Alice was the girl in the courtroom, the girl in the park. She was the very thing that threatened his way of life. He thought he was over his guilt, but her eyes dragged him back down again. How was it that she'd find his way back in his life? To continue protecting her now was such a cheap consolation to the promises he broke. There was nothing worse to him than breaking his word. But he did go to her. She couldn't have wanted him. 

        He was a hot headed twenty-one year old who let himself get jealous over her boyfriend, that let her hardened exterior ward him away. Daryl didn't know what he really expected: to have her wait for him patiently like a good little girl, that she'd be left unscathed? That wasn't Alice, though, and at the time, he hated her for it. 

        He got out of his tent, face to face with Shane. "What do ya want?" He asked gruffly, not making eye contact. 

        "Rick's organizin' a search. So why don't ya pretty yourself up and c'mon." There was a little hostility between the pair since Alice's bold words against him at the Vatos. He was uncomfortable knowing that someone knew his secrets, and that those secrets might have been passed down to her guard.