FALLEN ANGEL ➵ DARYL DIXON [1] ✓

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Beside The Dyin' Fire

Chapter 58

Nearly an hour has passed since Daryl met Ember. And someone has stolen the jeep. He comes through the forest with the deer around his neck and shoulders, thinking he's hallucinating. The gas station is completely abandoned, the colour mint no where in sight.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl curses. Now how is he going to get home? The deer is already starting to weigh him down, the drive alone taking thirty minutes, twenty miles. It was at least going to take him six hours to reach the prison. He would be arriving at night.

He starts to worry because he knows Kendra would be worrying about him. What if she does something stupid? Like try and go find him or get other people involved? In the worst case, people could end up hurt or even dead because of him. And he doesn't want anyone to risk their life for someone like him.

Especially Kendra.

But he knows Kendra too well. It would only be a matter of time before she wonders where he is. And time is already ticking.

"Are you okay?"

The words cause him to drop the deer to the hard concrete, smashing its head open wide. He turns his body around to the familiar, annoying voice. It's her.

She's standing five yards away from the man dripping in deer blood holding a black bin bag with a dead squirrel inside.

Daryl immediately snaches his crossbow from his back, an arrow already in place. All he has to do is pull the trigger and she would be dead. Simple as that.

But something comes over Daryl, not forcing himself to kill the young girl as she raises her peach hands out in defence, begging him not to.

"Please, please, please. Don't kill m-me," she stutters, taking a step back. Daryl's face hides behind his crossbow, a strand of thin brown hair, almost the same size of a single noodle, covers his hard artic eyes. He's in desperate need of a haircut, in between shoulders length and his jawline. But he doesn't have the time. There's other things to be concerned about.

"Why shouldn't I?!" Daryl asks roughly, aggression in his bitter tone that the girl twitches. She's in no doubt scared of this scruffy and clammy looking man who's threatening to kill her. But she's got no other choice.

She's not going back to him. After she has just escaped.

"Because... Because--"

"Because what?!" Daryl roars, getting impatient. The girl is pressing his buttons too hard. And he might not be able to control his anger if she doesn't answer quickly.

Again, she jumps back, Daryl's hard stare locked in place with her unwanted presence.

"Because I know who took your jeep."

Daryl's hard eyes liquify, dropping his crossbow to his side. He shifts from side to side, the girl standing still.

"Don't believe one word that comes outta your trap," Daryl says, hawking and spitting on the ground. The girl sighs.

"Fine. Go die in a hole then," she says, Daryl raising his crossbow up again aiming at her head.

"Hey, watch your mouth," Daryl warns, jumping on board to what she said before. "Who took her?"

"Bradley. Or as you know him, Rad Brad," she informs. "Some fucker messed him up bad in the beginning. Tore his eye out from his socket, burised his ribs. When I first saw him, I thought it was an animal or a gang of people. But, no. Just one man."

This triggers flashbacks for Daryl, reliving the moment again and again. He can see himself on top of Brad, his parrot squaking in the background. He sees him pushing down on his eye with his thumb, tearing the eye out as Kendra screams behind him, Danny gagging. His men leave him for dead, Brad trying to crawl away from the walker on his elbows. And he survived?