Mistakes I Made | The Walking Dead

Part 39

There's a lot I don't talk about— a lot of things that I've gone through and witnessed that... I can't imagine ever bringing up in conversation, not willingly at least. And I've trained myself to not think about those things because I know what would happen if I did. This is something that will be added to that list of things.

I stumbled back, my hand covering my mouth at the imagine in front of where I stood. The shock of it all knocked the air out of my lungs, leaving me silently gasping and writhing in pain, just out of view of someone I had gotten so close to— someone who felt like a sibling and reminded me what it was like to be so young.
I mindlessly pushed hands away that came to my aid— the overload of emotions, senses, and surroundings being nearly too much to bear.

I rubbed my hands over my face, wiping away tears and flinching at the sudden sting that accompanied the motion before noticing the blood that now appeared on my right palm.

My brows furrowed at the sight, lightly illuminated by the sparsely placed candles before my vision began to blur as I glanced around my surroundings; familiar faces, all holding a variation of the same look— confused and concerned.
I looked down to my right, a soft touch placed on the back of my leg finally pulling my attention... only to see Daryl staring back up at me.
I hadn't even noticed.

I couldn't make out his expression, I don't think I ever really could, but seeing him sent another set of emotions speeding through my mind that I just couldn't handle in the moment.

I pulled away, the sewer water beneath my feet splashing onto my calves and sending a chill through my body that only seemed to intensify my pain— aggravating each nerve.

"Hey— look at me." A voice hushed, harshly grabbing my face with one hand as the world finally seemed to stop spinning, at least for a moment.

I steadied myself against Dwight, catching my breath before taking a seat against the side of the pipe once again.
With my mind full, I gently rubbed at the drying blood on my hand, still struggling to comprehend everything that was going on.

"What the hell happened out there?" Dwight asked lowly, his voice from beside me catching my attention but leaving me confused, "Your face— you got cut up pretty bad." He gestured, causing me to reach up again, "Did Negan do that?"

I shook my head at his hush questioning, looking down at my hand that was repainted in red as I mentally traced back my steps. Seconds later, I lifted my head as Daryl stood slightly, Judith in his arms, before pulling a red rag out of his back pocket.

My mind was foggy, but even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't know where Daryl and I stood.
I think the last thing he wanted was for me to go back to the Sanctuary, he made that very clear, but I did it anyway. And hearing that he never even asked Dwight if I was there after everything happened... it kind of just made it feel like what was between us was finally over— that we both accepted the fact that this lifetime just wasn't meant for the two of us.

Dwight leaned forward, wincing slightly at the strain on his own injury as he took the rag from Daryl, relaying it to me.

"Just hold it there." Dwight mumbled as I balled up the rag, allowing myself to lean against it.

My heavy lids blinked slowly as I mindlessly fixed my stare to the barely lit, stagnant water that puddled at the bottom of the pipe.
I don't think I ever thought of this being an option— not winning or losing, but still losing so much.

Quiet tears ran down my cheeks as the adrenaline finally drained from my body, clearing my previously muffled mind to now fully take in the trauma it had endured. And slowly but surely, my body began to shake from its abuse; now battered and bruised more than it had been just hours before.
A dull ache wrapped itself around the back of my rib cage with every breath, shooting up my shoulders and through my neck, ending in a pounding headache.

A shadow cast itself in my line of sight, causing me to readjust as a new face kneeled down in front of me.
My heart raced at the stranger, momentarily believing that none of this had been real— that I wasn't back with the group and it had just been a sick joke that my mind was playing on itself.

"Whoa- I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The man apologized in a hushed tone, raising his hands in surrender, holding a half empty water bottle in one.

"He's a doctor." Rosita's familiar, monotoned voice spoke, her arms crossed as she sat in the distance, "Carl found him."

I glanced back over to the man as he held the water out to me, which I hesitantly took, still coming down from my racing heart.

"Can I see-" He began, gesturing to the rag I held close to my face.

"I'm ok." I cut him off, placing the water bottle on my lap as I readjusted myself once more, breathing through the pain.

He paused for a moment before pursuing again, "I should-"

"Please."

It's not that I didn't want to get treated or that I didn't trust this new person, but I couldn't imagine that any decent medical supplies were brought down here while Negan was threatening everyone's lives, and if someone did manage to grab something, I wasn't who really needed it.

Accepting defeat, the man returned to where Michonne and Rick stayed, comforting their son as blasts continued from above.

I pulled the rag down from my face, replacing where the bottle in my lap sat with it as I unscrewed the small plastic cap. The liquid rehydrated my mouth, nearly feeling like it burnt as it coated my dry throat, but before I was able to take another sip, Dwight caught my attention as he shifted his weight, pulling out a small sandwich bag from his pocket.

I furrowed my brows at him as he held it out to me, not knowing what he was trying to give me due to the dim, flickering candle light.

"I grabbed them when Carson wasn't in— figured you'd still need to take it if we got out of there." He muttered as I quickly realized the clear bag contained multiple doses of the medication I was being given back at the Sanctuary.

A small, pain filled smile pulled on the corner of my mouth, just because of the gesture— after everything terrible and evil that's happened, a thoughtful, kind gesture by someone who I initially didn't get along with... just meant something.
It gave me hope when I thought I had officially ran out.