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GRIFFIN WATCHED AS EVERYONE LEFT THE ROOM — minus himself, his sister, and his lover, as Hershel and Maggie asked for the majority to leave so that they could work on Daryl. After he'd been shot down, you see, he'd fallen to the ground unconscious ; Rick and Shane had lugged the red neck over to the farm for medical treatment quickly after, and everyone else followed.
"Oh god! Oh god! What have I done?" Andrea rambled to herself, as she nervously paced the room. Maggie and Hershel tried to ignore her as they held a cloth to Daryl's bloody face. "How is he? Oh god, I haven't killed him have I? Oh god, I'm an idiot. I really am. Please — one of you say something. Tell me he's going to be okay, I'm begging of you."
"We'll let you know as soon as we've finished up, in the mean time, mam, I'm going to have to ask you to either wait in here quietly, or leave." Hershel spoke as softly as he could, unraveling the rednecks shirt and pressing a rag covered in gauze to his wound — the one Daryl had got from the arrow when he'd fallen down the creek.
"Of course. I'm sorry, I'll be quiet." The blonde quickly replied, breathing heavily. Griffin moved by her side after and pulled her close to his chest. He said to her reassuringly, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, "listen to me, love. It wasn't your fault — it was just shitty luck, a bad shot."
Ophelia scoffed loudly, from where she stood (which was by the door with her arms folded.) "it was a god damn terrible shot — to put it lightly."
"I know it was. And I'm sorry." Andrea sniffled. The brown haired girl in the corner of her room rolled her blue eyes — if Andrea had only listened to her when she told her not to shoot, they wouldn't be in the situation they were, and it infuriated Ophelia, that Andreas arrogance had almost killed Daryl. If it happened again, who was to say the unlucky son of a bitch was going to survive?
"I know you're sorry. But, if you didn't have your head screwed up your ass so much, we wouldn't be here now, would we?" Ophelia asked, perking a brow. "Anyways, it's not me, or griffin, you should be apologising to — it's the guy half bleeding to death in the bed in front of you."
"He's not bleeding to death." Griffin said, pulling away from Andrea and giving his sister a look. "He's no where near dying. He's going to be just fine."
"Do you really think so?" Andrea asked, and the raven haired boy nodded. With a small smile he said, "I do. It'll take more than a faulty gun shot to kill him."
Ophelia rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, sunshine. It doesn't change the fact that if he dies, his blood is on your hands."
