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THE CRIMSON RED blood soaks Aria's hands as she stares down at it, disbelief on her face. She killed someone for no reason and it's just now occurring to her.
"Please — please don't kill me. I'm just a worker!"
"I'm sorry."
The encounter keeps replaying in her mind and she can't get it to stop. The young male pleaded with her and she didn't want to hear it, she snapped. She pulled the trigger now his blood covers her hands. The gunshots had stopped awhile ago and Aria can't help but sit here in defeat. Her group may of won this small war but they don't win at life. And that's disappointing for Aria. She threw out all her morals for these people and she told herself she'd never do that.
But this world, it isn't the world anymore. It's hell. Aria had to change her morals if she wanted to survive but now she's wondering if this was the right call.
Aria raises up to her feet, shaking the sinking feeling out of her body. As she walks down the narrow hall, she stares down at the ground as she does so, stepping over the bodies that litter the ground. She feels exhausted, both mentally and physically. All she wants to do now is just to sleep her pain away. Natural light hits Aria's face as she raises her gaze up from the ground, her eyes landing on her group at they're scattered around.
She instantly notices the curious and worried glances they're giving her but she shrugs it off. They wanted her to do this, now they're going to worry about her? If they were so worried, they wouldn't of wanted her to do this. The wind blows around the group as small droplets of rain paint Aria's face. The rain slightly calms Aria as she walks past her group, her stained hands clutch each other. Aria glances back at Daryl, her lip in between her teeth as she draws in a deep breath.
She's wondering what everyone else feels about this. Do they feel happy? Relieved? Guilty? She doesn't know.
A motorcycle revs in the distance and a man drives out from a shed. Rosita begins to shoot the man down and Daryl runs forward tackling the man as he raises from the ground. Daryl straddles the man runs the as he lands a few punches on his face, the rain beginning to pour harder. "Where'd you get the bike?" Daryl yells and Aria's eyes trail over towards the bike, her eyes narrowing. It's the bike her and Daryl built together.
"Daryl, that's the wrong place." Aria utters to him, a giggle escaping her peachy lips. She crouches down and takes the pipe out of his hands, screwing it into the right place. He has been putting the parts in the wrong places all night on purpose and Aria finds it absolutely adorable.
As the two back away and examine the motorcycle, Aria smirks before grabbing a white sharpie, crouching down by the black seat. "Can I write something?" She asks, looking up at him under her blonde eyelashes. Daryl thinks before nodding, motioning for her to continue. As she pulls the lid off the sharpie, she neatly writes a message, adding an infinity sign at the end.
'I love you, Dixon. — Aria'
"Lower your gun, prick. You, with the Colt Python." Aria's head raises up, her mind snapping back into reality. "All of you, lower your weapons right now."
"We've got a Carol and a Maggie."
A U T H O R sorry it's short, this is a filler chapter.
