Things we lost | c.g fanfic [heavily editing bc I suck]

Chapter 2

We got there less then five minuets later. Thankfully, I can hear Tom's shallow breathing and I'm willing him to stay alive. The boy next to me is crying quietly in his seat, but I'm hysterical. The crossbow man picks up my brother and starts running inside, yelling for a man named Hershel. I'm running after them when a muscular arm pushes me back.
"No! No, oh god!" I scream. I struggle against the strong grip of the man, trying to get to Tom. The man is wearing a bloody sherifs uniform, and the boy who shot Tom is wearing the hat. He must be his son or his nephew or something.
"Michonne, why did you take them here?" He hisses to the woman who restrained me earlier. Seems to be a common thing with this group. "It's not our problem what happens outside these walls."
"Rick, it is our problem!" She says darkly. "Because your son shot him." Rick looks at Carl, open mouthed. All colour drains from his face.
"Carl..."
"I- I thought he was a walker!" The boy shouts, voice wavering as he clutched at his hair. So, the boy who shot my brother is called Carl. If there is anything I can do for Tom now, it's this.
I will and do hate this boy.
"Please let me go with him." I sob. "He's all I have left, please! I need to make qsure he's okay!" The man 'Rick' lets me go and Michonne leads me indoors.

I find him in a sterile white room, with an old man preforming an operation or something like that. Id go in, but I'm frozen. Stuck, staring through a window. There's nothing I can do but stare anyway. I can hear Toms deep screams as the man, I'm guessing Hershel, digs a scalpel into his already torn apart stomach. So he woke up.
"Tom..." I whisper, collapsing onto the floor outside the room in a heap, the only thing I can hear is my brothers screams and my heartbeat, which suddenly seems all to loud. I place my hands against the walls trying to steady my breathing as my world spins out of control. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I flinch. I look up and see the crossbow man. He introduces himself as Daryl Dixon.
"I talked it over with Rick, the cop guy." He starts.
"I know who he is." I interrupt him. He looks almost uncomfortable.
"Okay." He tells me. "Well, he thought it would be better if you had somewhere to stay. And, I know you ain't gonna leave your brother. So, there are some cells upstairs you can sleep in." I sniffle and glance at Tom. I look back to Daryl and nod. He guides me upstairs into a cell.
"Thanks." I whisper.
"You'll be sharing, if that's okay." He tells me. I nod at him.
"Okay." He smiles sympathetically and leaves. I dump down the backpack that never leaves my back and climb up onto the top bunk of a bunk bed. Within minuets I fall into an all too vivid sleep.

I wake up three hours later screaming for Tom. Carl jumps straight out of the bottom bunk, giving me a heart attack since I didn't know he was there.
"Hey, it's okay." He tells me, climbing up next to me. "I never got your name." He informs me. I move further away from Carl and the bed creaks.
"Zoe Taylor. My brother...that's Tom." I say firmly. He nods, intertwining his hands and looking at his thumbs.
"I'm really sorry. I know sorry won't ever make up for what I did...but I swear to god I will try so hard to at least make things slightly right." He whispers. I shake my head, laughing sarcastically.
"I know you're sorry but it doesn't account for anything. He's all I have left." I spit at him.
"I know." He says briskly. "I wouldn't forgive somebody if they hurt my little sister. I'd want to kill them, I know that for sure."
"So we're on the same page then." I mumble, humourless.
"He's going to be okay." He promises me. A tear rolls off my cheek.
"But you don't know that!" I yell and he winces. He sighs and moves up onto his knees.
"When I was ten, I was shot. I was looking at a deer, and a bullet went straight through that and into me." He tells me. "Everybody thought I was a goner. I didn't even know what was happening. But Hershel, he saved me. Fixed me up real good. All I have left is the scar to show." He pulls up his shirt, revealing the huge scar down his stomach.
"Okay," I say, glaring at him still. "But you shot Tom from close range. He had nothing to soften the blow."
"How olds your brother?" He asks me.
"He's only eleven. He's too mature... but he doesn't understand that it's not just the walkers that are a threat."
"Zoe," he starts. "He's going to survive." I shake my head and look into his icy blue eyes, dimmed by the darkness but they still jump out at you.
"I'm tired. Goodnight." I scowl, giving him the signal to leave and he does.
He's trying to fix things but I won't let that happen.
He might've just killed my brother.
And I'll never forgive that.