Life I Left Behind (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Chapter Forty-Eight

Author's Note:

Hello once again! Just a reminder, I am dedicating a chapter of LILB to one new follower every update. I have a list of you! So if you follow me, you will get a dedication and forever be loved by yours truly! So yay here it is!

***This chapter of Life I Left Behind is dedicated to the ever incredible follower of mine uniqueunited  

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The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the concrete floor. I was slouched over in a rickety wooden chair, my head bowed against my chest. My vision swam and I squeezed my eyes back shut, waiting for the world to stop spinning. My stomach clenched as a wave of nausea rippled through me. I breathed deeply and in a minute, the feeling had passed and I was able to open up my eyes. I lifted my head up, though it felt suddenly too heavy for my neck. The right side of my head was throbbing in pain from where my face had been smashed against the bumper of a car. I wondered for a minute if I would ever stop finding myself in situation where I would stop being hit in the head or knocked unconscious. It seemed to be happening far too much lately.

A chill rippled down my spine as I surveyed the dark, dismal room. It was all concrete and cement, much like the prison. Judging by the coldness in the air, though. I guessed I was in a basement of some sort. The room was bare aside from the scratched up table in front of me and a chair matching the one I was currently tied to on the other side. I struggled with the bonds on my wrists, the skin feeling raw and sore from the tightness of the ropes. As if that wasn't bad enough, my ankles were securely tied to the chair legs. It was clear I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Every fiber of my being screamed panic, but it pushed it down below as I did my best to remain calm and think about what I did know.

I knew I was being kept hostage somewhere, though I hadn't the slightest clue where. I knew that it had to have been the Hispanic man with the gun that had brought me here. And I knew that I had no idea where Glenn was. That thought almost sent me over the edge. As long as I had no idea where he was, I had no way of knowing if he was safe. Whether or not he was alive. It made my skin crawl. We were in a bad mess. How would the others know what had happened to us? Sure, they would come looking but Glenn and I hadn't even gone to the same town we had planned on. They would be looking in the wrong place. Even then, the chances of them being able to figure out that we were basically kidnapped…well, it was worse than bad.

My throat tightened and I swallowed hard. I wouldn't cry. Not now. That wouldn't do any good. I needed to keep it together. I quickly surveyed the room again. There was only one exit, which was the door directly opposite me. As far as I could tell there were no other doors and no other windows. There were no tools, no glass shards on the ground, no weapons. Nothing that could even remotely help me get out of this. I took another deep breath as the urge to cry swam over me again. I needed to get out of this. I needed to find Glenn. Because we had people waiting for us. We had people relying on us. And I didn't think I could bare the idea of spending a second longer in this chilling, empty space not knowing what was happening, or whether or not I would live to see the next day or more importantly, whether or not I would see Daryl again.

His face swam into my memory. His exact words had been that he had a bad feeling about me going out. I hadn't listened, though. Because that's what you do when people tell you they have a 'feeling'. It's just a feeling. There's not fact to it, or any reason. You can't make decision based off of a feeling that something might not go right. Yet right now, I was really wishing I would have listened harder to him. Maybe then I wouldn't be tied to a chair in a dungeon room, trying to convince myself that I wouldn't die here. I felt like maybe, for a second, I could relate to Rick. How the hell was I supposed to now that I wasn't going to come back to camp? Maybe if I would have known that, I would have looked at Daryl harder and memorized his face. Maybe I even would have kissed him, right there in front of everybody else. I had tried to so hard to wait for the right time that maybe I hadn't realized that there might never be a right time. How do you know when it's the right time to look at somebody and tell them you love them?

The door to the room suddenly swung open, yellow light from the hallway spilling inside. I went rigid in my chair, eyes locked on the familiar, sickening figure that walked inside. He shut the door behind him and wordlessly took the seat opposite me. I wished, more than anything, that I could have wiped the smug smirk from his stupid face. This idiot that had held a gun to Glenn and a knife to my throat and was the reason I was stuck here, contemplating all the things I wished I would have done differently.

"Sorry about your head." He said, in the least apologetic tone I had ever heard. "If you had just listened to me the first time, though, maybe I wouldn't have had to do that." I didn't say a word, glaring at him. "Anyways, just wanted to let you know that this is nothing personal. It's the governor's orders. He runs this place and- well, I'm sure you'll meet him later." He said, leaning back in the chair. He paused here, no doubt waiting for some kind of response from me. I refused. "We can do this the easy way, where you just tell me what I wanna know…or we can do it the hard way which would be a shame for that pretty face of yours." He said in a low threatening voice. "Now the governor wants to know where your group is and how many you have. You tell me that and we'll send you back off to them, unharmed. And I promise no harm will come to your group either. I'm just asking for a little cooperation here."

"Bullshit." I spat out at him.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise before stroking the rugged black beard that covered his chin. "Are you sure that's the way you want this to go down, sweetheart?"

"I'm not telling you shit." I said slowly, trying to ignore my sweaty palms and the pounding of my heart inside my ribcage. The cold, menacing look in his eyes grew more prominent than before and I tried to brace myself for whatever was about to come. There was no way in hell I would give up the people I cared about to save myself. Even if it meant I might not make it out of here to see them again.

"Alright, then. Just try to remember…I tried to make this easy for you." He said, standing from his chair. He shoved the table back, its legs squealing horribly on the concrete. My gaze flitted to his hand, curled into a fist at his side and the tense muscles of his arms. I shut my eyes tightly and a second later my head snapped backwards as his fist collided with my jaw. It was an explosion of pain, my eyes watering as the next blow came before I could recover. Hit after hit, he beat away my resolve until I was slumped over in my chair and tears streamed down my cheeks. I hurt to blink, to swallow, and to move at all. I wished I would faint again, just black out so I wouldn't have to feel the excruciating, throbbing pain that felt like it would never go away. I was aware of him saying something me, but the words just sounded jumbled and incoherent. I watched in a daze as he disappeared from the room and left me. It was only then, when I was alone, that I left myself really cry.

Time dragged on. I kept waiting for him to come back and finish me off. What else would they do with me, once they realized I wasn't talking? I felt a pang as I thought of Glenn. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell he'd tell anyone where the group was, which mean he was probably in just as bad of shape as I was, if not worse. I licked my dry, cracked lips and tasted the metallic taste of blood. I wondered for a second if I looked as horrible as I felt. Eventually, my eyes began to grow tired. I didn't think I'd be able to sleep, but I did although it was fitful and unpleasant. I kept having nightmares and would jerk awake with a gasp just before a fist slammed into my face or a walker bit into my skin. The last time I awoke, though, it was to see the door swinging open. My breathing hitched and I averted my eyes to the cold ground. If this was it, if he was back to kill, then I didn't want to watch him while he did it. There was the sound of a chair being pulled out and a deep sigh as someone sank down into it.

"He sure fucked you up good, didn't he?" A man's raspy voice broke through the silence. It had an old, southern twang to it that triggered something in my memory. "I told him not to. Told him you was no good to me half alive.

God, I recognized that voice. But no…it couldn't be. What were the chances? I hesitated a moment before slowly lifting my eyes to if the voice matched the face. Sure enough, there he was. A gasp escaped my chapped lips as I stared in utter shock. He looked just about the same as the last time I saw him, with his strong, square jaw, buzzed head and deep set eyes. Only thing that was noticeable different was that instead of a hand, he had a hook. "Merle." The sound came out like a ragged whisper.

He froze, and leaned closer, no doubt trying to get a better look at me beneath all the blood and bruises. His eyes were almost the same color as Daryl's, blue but more of a dark cerulean color. I watched the flicker of recognition change his features. "Holy fuckin' Jesus Christ. No…No it ain't." He said, shaking his head. "You can't fuckin' be Charlie."

"It is, Merle. I swear it." I said weakly. I felt hope inflating inside me again and I tried to smile at him, but ended up just doubling over, wincing in pain.

"What the fuck are ya' doin' here, woman? Do you know what kinda deep fuckin' shit you're in right now? Christ, Charlie!" He exclaimed. It was the first time I had ever seen the rugged man shocked beyond belief. "They sent me in here to rough ya' up more!"

"Who did? Who the hell are these people? And who the hell is the governor?" I asked desperately, leaning forward only to have the ropes on my wrists dig painfully into my skin.

"Not someone you wanna piss off, which is a little too late for you." He said in a low voice, eyes scouring my face. "God damn, I almost didn't recognize ya'. Christ, I wish it wasn't ya', I really do. What the hell were you doin' with that Asian kid? You know 'em?"

"You mean Glenn? Yeah, I know him. I've been with his group for a while now." I explained. "You gotta get me out of here, Merle. Please." My eyes pleaded desperately with him.

"So you know where Daryl is then? He alive?"

"Yes! And he's probably on his way here right now to kill all these assholes!" I exclaimed tiredly.

"You need to take me to him. Charlie, I need to see my god damn brother." He said in his deep, rugged voice.

"Then you need to help me get the fuck out of here. Please, Merle. Look at me. If I go one more round with that guy, he'll kill me." Our eyes locked and I refused to look away, hoping he still saw me as that neighbor kid that used to hang around Daryl, and not some stranger whom he was sent to throttle for information.

He finally part his lips. "I'll get you out, but you gotta take me to him. And I swear to God, Charlie, it you do me wrong I'll kill ya'. I swear on it." His tone implied just how serious he was.

"I swear, Merle. I'll get you to Daryl." I promised. "But we have to get Glenn out too."

He studied me for a long moment before finally deciding he believed me. He leaned back in the chair and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "Alright, girl. For some god damn reason, I believe ya'. And I'm gonna git' you outta here, and I'll get your damn Asian friend out too…but I'm tellin' ya' it ain't gonna be easy." He warned me.

"Thank god, Merle. Thank you." I whispered appreciatively, hardly believing the stroke of luck I was suddenly having. It was a miracle almost. Merle Dixon. Who woulda thought?

"Don't thank me yet, sugar tits. We can't just fuckin' waltz outta here. Gimme an hour to get the ball rollin. I'll come back for you then."

"What?" I said in panic, realizing we weren't leaving straight away. "No, we need to go now."

"Honey, we try and go now and I guarantee you we'd be dead in 'bout five minutes flat. One hour. I'll come back for ya'."

"Can you at least untie me from the chair or something?"

He chewed on his lower lip in a slow, thoughtful manner that reminded me very much of Daryl. Too much. "Can't risk it. Anyone comes in here after me and they see it…well they'd on to us in a second. I can undo your legs but that's about it."

I almost laughed in relief. "That's fine, that's perfect." At least I would feel better with half of my limbs free.

Merle knelt down at the ground, pulling a long knife from the sheath at his hip. He began sawing at the ropes, and within minutes, my ankles came free from the bonds. I felt good to be able to move my feet around, to be able to kick my legs if I really needed it. "I'll be back." He repeated one last time. His steady gaze met mine and I forced a nod. Whether I liked it or not, I had to trust him. If Merle cared as much about his brother as he let on, though, I knew he'd keep his word. "Just don't do anythin' stupid while I'm gone." It was his last warning before was out the room.

I stared at the closed door for a long time after he left, waiting apprehensively for him to return. Every second that ticked by, though, made me more and more nervous. It was almost impossible to keep track of time in a room with no clocks or windows. What felt like an hour could have been just a mere few minutes…yet after the newborn feelings of hope had begun to wilt inside me, I felt certain Merle wasn't coming back for me. Maybe he had never meant to. Maybe it had been his intention all along to make me believe I was getting out of here, only to squash it out of me and break me down even further. I had seen the look in his eyes though at the mention of his brother's name. No…he wouldn't just abandon me here, the only lead he had to his family. Something else had to have happened. Something must have been keeping him.

I jumped as the door to the room banged violently open. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach when in marched not Merle, but the man who was responsible for me being here in the first place. The man who had turned my face into a bloody pulp. He was across the room in just a few quick, angry strides and crouched down to look me in the eye. His dark eyes studied my face intently and I cast my eyes downward to avoid meeting his gaze. After a minute, he stood back.

"You know, sweetheart, funniest thing. The governor sent Merle in here as a last resort. Because that's what he does. He beats the will to leave out of you until you just can't take it anymore…so you spill your guts just to make him end it." He spat the words out angrily. "You know what though? You're not very dead are you?" The Hispanic man leaned forward again, gripping my face in his hand, making me wince in pain. "And I don't see any fresh blood or bruises. Looks like Merle went soft on you, which makes no fuckin' sense. I had a feeling…when I stood outside the door and didn't hear any crying or begging, but now I know for sure. Merle didn't lay a finger on you which ain't his style. So you wanna tell me something? Something about you and Merle that I don't know?" He hissed.

I kept my eyes cast downward, my mouth set into a thin, hard line. He finally shoved me backwards, storming back towards the door. "You don't wanna talk? You don't wanna tell me about your group or about Merle? Well that's just fine, sweetheart." He sneered at me. I felt fear welling up inside of me. I had pushed this guy over the edge and now I was going to pay for it. He disappeared from the room for a minute and when he came back, I let out a strangled cry. He had a walker, hungry and snarling, held out in front of me. The man gave me a wry smirk. "You think you're a tough girl? Let's see how tough you really are." With that, he thrust the walker into the room and slammed the door behind him.