OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
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[ liv. 59 days without an accident ]
october 13th, 2012
➸➸➸
"GOOD NEWS," DENISE CLOYD exclaimed with excitement as she approached, her glasses pushed higher on her nose as she balanced a thick, medical textbook in the crook of her elbow. "I believe I've nailed the calculations. According to this, you're sixteen weeks along. Or . . . close to that mark. Nearly four months, at least. So, how are you feeling?"
Astrid Dixon slumped on the edge of an infirmary bed, her legs dangling, while Daryl stood beside her, leaning against her side. His right hand moved in large, soothing circles across her lower back, and the other was tucked to his mouth, thumbnail nervously being chewed, while listening as Denise's report unfolded. When it concluded, Astrid only sighed, brushing back a strand of stringy hair from her bloodshot and drooping eyes.
"How am I feeling?" Astrid echoed. "How does it look like I'm feeling, Denise? I feel like shit. This is the first time in three days that I haven't managed to puke my guts out, and I still feel like I've been hit by a bus."
Denise cracked a smile at the flair of dramatics and then turned to Daryl. "And how's the father doing?" She asked.
"Jus' peachy," Daryl scoffed. He rubbed his own bloodshot eyes now, equally exhausted. "Is there any way we can get somethin' in her system without her throwin' it back up an hour later?" He prodded.
"You haven't vomited in three days, correct?" Denise prompted, to which Astrid nodded. "Well, maybe the worst is behind you. Have you eaten anything this morning?"
"No," Astrid protested. "I want to, but I don't want to deal with hugging my toilet the rest of the afternoon, either."
"I want you to try eating whole grains today," Denise instructed. "Or even a couple of bites of fruit. If neither of those catch your appetite, I also read somewhere that sometimes switching meals around can help—like having pizza or a casserole for breakfast."
Astrid cringed as she buried her tired face in her cracked palms. Her shoulders and arms ached, and sleep had eluded her completely last night. The baby was not even that big, yet Astrid felt like the tiny being was already determined to kill her.
"Pizza sounds disgusting," Astrid muttered. Her stomach curdled deeper even recalling Carol's failed attempt at homemade pizzas last week.
Denise pursed her lips. "Maybe . . . Maybe you should stick to fluids for a couple more days, then," She suggested. "That's what Maggie has been doing, but her morning sickness stopped a week or so ago. And it wasn't nearly as bad as yours."
"That's because this kid is picky like its father," Astrid retorted, nudging Daryl in the side.
Her hunter scoffed. "Please," He said. "He gets it from you."
