REVIVAL 𛲕 DARYL DIXON

ten ➳ a new hell

I had never dealt well with not having anything to do. Without anything to distract myself with, I often found myself overthinking everything, and slowly going crazy. Which was why I couldn't wait till my head felt less like a rock weighing me down to the couch of the RV, and I could get up and be productive again.

For the time being, though, I was stuck. So, I stared up at the roof of the tent, as if willing it to come down and swallow me up. I knew it was weak even to think it, but I just didn't know what I was fighting for any more. I'd lost the meaning, and after you lose the meaning, you're pretty much a dead man walking.

I don't know how long I lay there, driven insane by my own loneliness and self-deprecating thoughts. My pitiful silence was broken only by raised voices outside. My ears perked up as I recognised Daryl's voice. I shrugged on an overly large sweatshirt of someone's, to shield me from the intense coldness of outside, and emerged though the folds of the tent.

"—to a roof and you left him there?"

"Yeah."

"Hey! Watch the knife!"

I followed my ears over to the arguing, and saw Daryl, Shane, and a guy I'd never seen before mid raging fight. I found that my feet were moving quicker than my brain, and before I knew it I was standing right in between the three of them, just as Daryl lunged for the stranger. He knocked into me aggressively, without realising I was there.

I staggered backwards, into Shane's chest. He grabbed my arms to steady me, but I veered away from the unwelcome touch. The realisation hit Daryl as he realised he'd hurt me, and he stopped trying to hit the stranger, staring at me instead.

"What the hell are ya doing, Ember? I coulda seriously hurt you!" Daryl said, anger evident in his tone.

"Sorry," I said. "I heard voices; I was just coming to see what all the arguing was about." I twiddled with my fingers nervously. Daryl had never purposely hurt me, but I'd never seen him this enraged before. I was unsure of what he would do.

"Arguin' about these bunch o' dumbasses leaving Merle handcuffed to a roof somewhere to die!" Daryl spat furiously, glare focused on the stranger in the police uniform.

I observed the stranger warily, not knowing his intentions, and with my trust of humanity somewhat diminished. At the news of Merle, my heart dropped. Merle might not have been the most pleasant of people, but he was at least someone I trusted – which was hard to come by in this world.

"What? Why?" I asked, bewildered as to how Merle ended up handcuffed in the first place.

Daryl didn't answer me, however. He was too focused on staring intently at the side of my face. Self consciously, I reached out and touched the spot on my face that was under such intense scrutiny. I winced as my fingers found the area that was surely bruised, and I avoided Daryl's gaze.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He reached for me, and in a moment of fear and panic, I flinched away, ready for impact. "What... Ya thought – I was gonna–" Daryl was lost for words, which was rare for the impulsive, angry redneck.

I shied away, suddenly apprehensive as to how he would react if he knew what happened. "Ember. How did tha' happen?" He said, his voice still holding a dangerous undertone, but gentler, as if I was prey he was trying not to startle. When I didn't reply, he turned to the others expectantly, his glare focused mainly on Shane.

"What. Happened. To. Her." He seethed, livid. When nobody answered, falling instead into an uncomfortable silence, he roughly grabbed the side of my face that was unbruised, causing me to gasp. He turned my head to the side to make the bruises more obvious to the group. "Somebody better tell me what the fuck happened when I was away."