Dark Intentions│Daryl Dixon✔️

T H R E E

I sat straddling the fences that surrounded the horses. Nellie kept bickering at me when I wasn't pettin' her snout. I held a bottle of vodka in my hands and took a chug every now and then. My eyes were a little blurry—the affects of the booze kickin' in quick.

I grabbed a lighter from my back picked and held a cigarette between my forefinger and middle. I lite the tip and inhaled a nice waft of smoke. The nicotine already calming my nerves. I tilted my head back and let the smoke seep between my lips and into the air above me.

I heard him before I saw him and pointed a pistol directly at him, "Ye' ain't gonna shoot." He didn't even stop walking. I grit my teeth and rested the pistol within the waistband of my pants.

"Ya know the normal would be to just shoot a stranger." I told him. He had long brown/black hair that fell just below his ears but not touching his collar. His eyes were as blue as the cleanest ocean on Earth. He had a goatee. He was handsome. The dark type of handsome.

"These ain't normal days." He told me.

"No. You're right. They're worse. I should shoot you but why ruin another pretty face?" I shrugged and inhaled another gulp of smoke and let it past my lips again, "Wanna join me? Knowin' Georgia I'm sure booze was the first thing people went for." I said taunting him with the bottle. He walked forward and hopped onto the fence in front of me. He took the bottle and took a deep gulp. I watched Nellie snort and buck her large head up and down at the lack of attention. I also passed the cigarette over to him.

He took a deep drag and let the smoke out. I sighed through my nose wondering why I was bein' so nice to a man I didn't even know.

"Where'd you people come from." It was more of a demand then a question. I didn't look at him while askin' it either.

"Why should I tell you." He took another deep drag of my cigarette and didn't pass it back. Fair enough. I snatched my cancer stick and booze back and hopped off of the fence into the horses pasture.

"Ya shouldn't." I said, putting out my cigarette and drowning the rest of my vodka. I flicked the cigarette into the pasture grass and continued on into the woods beyond.

"I'm borrowin' this horse!" He called out to me.

I didn't bother answering him back and waved my hand in dismissal without turning around.

I also didn't bother to tell him why Nellie was called Nellie. Let him figure it out himself.

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So the man ended up falling off of Nellie, hallucinating, and then was shot by one of his own people. Wow. Hershel snapped at Daryl and said if he'd just have asked to borrow the horse he would have known that she was nervous and had a hard time with snakes. The redneck looked to me then and I raised a brow.

He never told Hershel that He'd told me about taking Nellie out. We all cleared out of the room and I shut the door.

"Go make him some lunch and take it up to him." Hershel ordered me.

"Isn't that Patricia's job." I said in the same monotone voice I'd been using with him since I was 13. I didn't look at him when he turned to me.

"What is wrong with you." He demanded in annoyance.

I shrugged, "Careful, Hershel. That's something a father would ask." I snapped and continued into the kitchen, "and we all know just how much you don't want to be mine." I made a sandwich for the redneck and put a glass of water on the tray for him. I walked up the stairs with the balance of a waitress and pushed open his door with my hip. I didn't bother to knock. I set the tray on the table and shut the door before crossing the room and taking a seat in the facing chair.

I draped my arms casually over the back and looked around the room, "I've never been allowed in here. I've always been allowed in my room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Never in any of the other rooms." I mused.

"Ye' didn't tell me that damn horse was trouble." He muttered in annoyance.

"No. I didn't. It's so cold in here. I would've loved to have a nice cool room like this." I said finally flicking my eyes back to his own. He wasn't amused, "You seemed to know what you were doing. You demanded that you were taking the horse. I didn't feel inclined to stop you." I shrugged.

"Got anymore?" He asked me.

"Booze? Yeah." I told him and stood up, heading for the door.

"Ye' ain't gonna get me any." He snapped.

"Why?" I asked, "It's mine." I walked out of the room and down the stairs to witness people surrounding the kitchen table eating fried chicken and potatoes.

Mom ate outside alone.