Triggerfinger ➳ Daryl Dixon

t w e n t y t w o

In and out.

One moment she was sure where she belonged, the next, her legs were running away and her brain was telling her different. As if her body had been split into two different souls, she found her heart pulling in two different directions.

One side was right, the other was wrong; one side was the angel, the other was the devil.

The most difficult part of the entire thing was figuring out which was which.

While being alone was the only time she was able to think, her heart repeatedly twisted whenever she thought of leaving them all behind.

She trusted them, even though she hated to admit it. Her heart was happy when she was with Daryl. All the memories of the death faded away, and she found it easiest to smile. Daryl. The man who cared for her and protected her, who tried to shield her from the dangerous world. Himself alone was almost a big enough reason to stay there in Alexandria.

But the other side of her, the side who trusted her father, knew that more death would follow. It was easy to take the world for granted when she was with them. When she was with them, she let her guard down. She let herself believe that maybe the last death would be the last death of somebody she cared about.

But it wouldn't be.

She knew that each person she allowed herself to trust would die, and she would be left with a shattered heart once more.

And what if she lost Daryl? Losing Daryl would be like losing herself.

With an angry growl, she leaned back and chucked the knife forward, her anger sending the blade flying into the trunk of a tree. With swiftness and grace she lunged and rolled, coming up into a crouch and placing another tree as her victim with a knife she'd pulled out during her roll.

She turned sharply, raising her hand to let another knife fly when she heard a stick snap. She froze, adjusting her angle and sending the knife flying to the sound. It whistled through the air, never reaching its target.

Zeva simply lifted her head. Presley sank down lower, reaching for the gun holstered to her thigh.

"No need for that, sweetheart." Her eyebrows furrowed. The voice was rough and deep, yet very obviously sarcastic.

Worse than that, it was familiar.

Her mind flashed back to the memories of the watch tower when she had first met this man. She stood up and pulled the gun free as the figure emerged from the trees.

He carried himself proudly, with a devilish, cocky smirk that made her want to carve it right off of his face. This man had appeared in her life during a dark time in her life; because of this, she was unable to hold back the cold resentment she felt for him.

"Aww, you know my lil' brother wouldn' much 'preciate you doin' that." He clucked his tongue, and knowing he was right, she harshly lowered the gun to her side. Her jaw was set, though, and she was still poised for the kill. "It's been a long time, Presley. I can't say yer group is an easy one ta' find."

"I can't say you're an easy one to kill."

"Ahh, you're still a fiery little thing, ain't ye?" He chuckled, crossing his ar... Well, arm. His other arm was just as she remembered it; at the elbow, it looked like a futuristic cyborg part with a deadly knife curving out. "So, little missy, where is my baby brother?"

"Do you really honestly think I am a big enough idiot to tell you where he is?"

"Well ye sure do look like one, sugar."

Presley bit back a retort.

"Right... I'm sorry." He corrected himself. "I've been looking for 'im for months now, ye see. A little assistance would be very kind."

"Why would I help you?" She whispered. "You're the reason I... You know what, you're not worth my time. Leave and don't come back, and maybe I won't kill you."

"Presley." He took a step toward her. In return, she took two steps back. "I'm sorry about what happened to ye. Truly. I didn't know he cared about you like he did, otherwise I never woulda let the Gov touch ye."

"Leave."

"I screwed up--."

"Leave!" She screamed, louder than she meant to. Her knees began shaking and the world swirled around her. She couldn't take it-- the memories from the past were too much. Merle was like a statue of a man from a war, but he was the statue from the wrong side. She dropped to her knees, digging her hands into the dirt before she tangled her fingers in her own hair.

Memories flashed in front of her.

The Governor's hands on her.

The gun to Hershal's head.

His hands where they didn't belong.

The gun to Lori's head.

His hands taking advantage of her weakness.

Weak... I was too weak because I trusted them enough to keep that from happening.

But it happened anyways.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her. "Hey... it's alright." The voice was awkward and strained, as if he wasn't entirely sure what to do.

"Get away from me." She whispered.

"You're a tough gal, Presley. Ye will be all right."

She said nothing. Together they just sat there in silence.

"He took a lot from me, too, ye know. I... I trusted 'im. He said he wouldn't hurt Daryl... But he did. He hurt him by hurting you. He promised Daryl would have refuge. Ye wasnt supposed ta get hurt.

She cringed again.

"I am sorry."

Only a few days between updates... Are You guys proud of me? 💚

So I impulsively bought a rabbit and I need a name For her. She's white and Gray and has floppy ears. She's Only 6 weeks old.
Any name suggestions? Preferably unisex names (:

Comment if You want another quick update. Ilysm