bullseye ➵ daryl dixon

e l e v e n - trace

CHAPTER ELEVEN | t r a c e
27/10/17

Adira wrapped her arms around Daryl's waist even tighter and held on for dear life as they sped past the seemingly endless amount of walkers that had been attracted to the sound of his rather rambunctious motorcycle. She soon opted to shut her eyes as she saw their decaying hands reaching aimlessly towards the moving pair, it reminding her of memories she didn't want to relive. It was so difficult to see them, those walkers, simply walking and groaning for anything living, knowing they were once people. She didn't want to end up that way.

Soon enough, however, they reached the road, and the herd thinned out as they pressed on in the direction it had originally come from. Her head leaned onto Daryl's leather-clad back as she slowly fell into an uneasy sleep, waking up every so often only to see more and more trees passing by. She couldn't believe that she had made it out of there alive. That they had made it out.

Only maybe three or four hours later did Daryl decrease the speed of his bike, eventually coming to a stop on the side of the highway. There seemed to be a build up of cars, but that wasn't why he stopped; there was a clear path through, created by his group only mere months in the past. It was the only place he could think of that the group might try to find him and Adira.

He was about to get off of his motorcycle when he came out of his mindless driving state and felt the weight of something on his back and something wrapped around his waist. He peeked behind him and saw Adira, asleep, clinging to him. He couldn't help but notice how tranquil she looked while she slept, away from all of the worries and dangers that haunted them each day they still breathed.

He reminded himself of what he had decided the other day, however, and stood up abruptly, shaking the poor girl awake. She looked up in surprise but only cast her gaze back down to the ground when she saw his glare. He couldn't let her get close, and he couldn't let himself get attached. He had to keep her at a distance; it was the only way.

"Why are we stopped?" asked Adira, her voice exhausted and low and her eyes full of confusion. There didn't seem to be much of anything where'd they stopped, and they weren't stuck.

He tilted his head in the direction of a rundown Ford Mustang, with some sort of message written in paint on the windshield that Adira couldn't quite read from where she stood. She cautiously took a step forward and continued a bit quicker when she realized that Daryl was following her towards the car.

SOPHIA STAY HERE
WE WILL COME EVERY
DAY

She didn't recognize the name or its significance, and no one with the group had ever mentioned someone named Sophia to her, so she was confused as to why Daryl was so interested in it. "Who's Sophia?" she asked, not realize how much the question would affect Daryl.

He took a sharp inhale of breath and turned away, his breathing loud, ragged, and almost angry with the irregular pattern it was taking. Sophia had obviously meant something to him.

"Daryl?"

Adira's small, gentle voice filled the silence only rarely broken by a breeze drifting its way through the leaves. Daryl didn't turn around, but his breathing did gain some sort of control and he shut his eyes to calm down for a second. However, as soon as he closed his eyes, all he could see was that little girl coming out of the barn, deceased and ravenous.

He was brought back to reality when he felt the tender touch of the young girl's hand meet his shoulder. She didn't dare hug him, as she would normally in such a situation, as he seemed to be in a very dark place and she wasn't quite sure how he would react. They stood there for a moment, his breathing gradually stabilizing and her hand gripping his shoulder as reassuringly as she could.