The Wanderer (bethyl)

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Beth jumped backward in shock to see Daryl Dixon before her, sitting on a lawn chair and re-stringing his crossbow. She hadn't realized he was staying out here, away from the rest of the group. She didn't know what to say. She had hardly spoken to the man since his group arrived on the farm, and now of all times...

"G-going... for a walk..." she stammered dumbly, realizing how unconvincing it sounded as soon as it came out of her mouth.

"Uh-huh," he grunted sarcastically. "You're the girl who tried to off herself today, right? Word travels fast 'round here."

"I guess..." Beth blushed, feeling humiliated and at a loss for words. "I mean, whatever."

Daryl stood up and took a couple of strides toward her. "Whatcha got there? I'm bettin' you ain't out here to pick daisies."

She didn't respond. She tried to turn away, but Daryl firmly grabbed her arm. He stared at her for a moment, and she didn't fight back as he pulled the pistol from her pocket.

"Protection?" he asked gruffly, tossing it to the ground.

Beth's defenses left her, and she burst into tears, wondering what she was doing. She crumpled to her knees. "I-I don't know, I just couldn't take it anymore."

Daryl's face softened a bit, but he still stood frozen in place, looking a little uncomfortable. Part of him - the raw, wounded part of him that was still hurting so badly that he would never acknowledge - wanted to push her away, tell her that he didn't have time for her sob story and he wasn't gonna coddle her and tell her everything was okay. But the more rational part of him saw something in Beth that he recognized in himself, and he knew that he didn't have it in him to turn her away or lash out right now.

"What do you care anyway?"

Daryl exhaled impatiently and tried to carefully choose his words. "Well, somebody else dyin' is the last thing we need, don't ya think? Ain't like nobody else can afford that luxury."

"Haven't you ever thought about it, though?" Beth asked shakily, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. "You know... suicide?"

A heavy silence hung in the air. Daryl turned his head and muttered, "Before or after?"

Had he thought about it? Yes. It had crossed his mind when he was a young boy, stuck in the hellhole of his dysfunctional family and constantly being told he was a worthless piece of shit. And after everything happened... He remembered the dumb bastard who hung himself in the tree, and Jacqui and the crazy doctor in the CDC all those months ago. He remembered himself, soon after they found Sophia in the barn, going so far as to bring out Merle's old stash and stare at it between his hands, before throwing it to the side and feeling disgusted with himself. He would never admit to the weakness though, because that's not what Dixons do. Surprisingly though, the whole "world coming to an end" thing had increased his drive to live - if for no other reason but stubbornness.

"Wouldn't that be a trip?" he scoffed. "Survived an arrow in the side, a shot in the head, getting chased by those ugly things day and night, waiting to eat me alive, and whatever other damn surprises are in store... Only to die by pussying out. Yeah. Not me."

Beth chuckled through her tears. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't imagine it for you. You're just so strong... tough. From what I can tell, I mean."

"Well, don't think you know nothin' about me," huffed Daryl. "Some of us just don't take the easy way out." He paused. "Look, if you're waitin' for some sappy bullshit about how life is sacred and everything happens for a reason, you're talkin' to the wrong guy. And we're fresh outta therapists these days."

"No, I get enough of that from my dad. But just... how do you manage? How do you keep going, knowing that it's probably all just hopeless?"

"Well, maybe we're all just wandering around like a bunch of dumb suckers, marking time before we become worm food. But I know that there ain't no honor in suicide, not now, not ever. I ain't gonna fill your head with pretty words about how things are gonna get better, cause I don't know. But it's all we got. And that's how I do it. I don't think I have a choice."

Beth took in everything he had just said. "Yeah... I know. It's just so overwhelming. Sometimes I just don't think I can deal with it all."

"Listen, girl. You're seventeen. You have your daddy and Maggie and a whole bunch of people looking out for you. You still got some good in your world. You have more'n most folks out here, so count your blessings. And you don't get to walk out on us - understand?"

The young girl was silent for a few moments. The "us" in Daryl's statement stood out to her. Their eyes met, and she could see Daryl's genuine concern. Beth nodded slightly. "Yes."

His voice turned serious again. "You ain't gonna... do nothin' to yourself when you leave, right?"

"No. I'll be okay for now, at least."

After studying her face for another long moment, Daryl nodded once and walked away from her, back to his own tent. Beth watched him go, before finally stuffing the pistol back into her pocket and meandering toward the house, deep in thought.