Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Welcome to the Fallout

Grief was tricky.

It wasn't the same thing to all people. Grief was a chameleon, offering those left behind numerous ways to mourn those taken far too soon.

More often than not grief started as a stark realization. A moment in the day when you were stricken helpless by one unalterable fact, someone you cared about wasn't here anymore. This stage of grief was more prevalent after the initial loss, when the adrenaline had long since faded and shock had taken its place. The sorrow continued until you'd trained yourself to recognize the truth, they were gone.

Next comes the unenviable task of living your life without them. The wound never really heals. Instead, you feel a constant tug at your soul as you attempt to live your life without the person whose presence made an impact. Every day you struggle to fill the gap they've left behind, only belatedly realizing that will never happen.

The last stage was probably the worst because it happens fast, driving you to your knees when you least expect it. Memories were meant to be a blessing, but memories of those brutally and unfairly stripped from your life sends sharp stabbing pain straight to your heart. That was the world's most devastating secret, remembrance was agony. In time this sensation will dull, making their passing bearable in a way it simply couldn't be in the beginning.

Eventually, happiness will be the dominant emotion, somehow beating back the tears when you remember them, but there will still be tears. There will always be tears because the destiny of the living was to remember the dead.

Like every morning for the past three months I awoke before sunrise. Daryl was a light sleeper, but I'd become adept at detangling our naked bodies without waking him. Carefully I removed his arm from my waist, setting it gently on my pillow, smiling down at him. He looked like a completely different person when he was sleeping, less burdened by the weight of this world. Taking one last look at him I brushed the hair off his forehead with a heavy sigh then slipped out of bed, dressing quickly and quietly before leaving.

This time of morning almost everyone was still sleeping, the halls deserted. There was a chill in the air when I stepped outside that made me shrug my jacket on, nodding to the guards stationed in the towers. Zipping up the jacket I pulled my long hair out of the collar, keeping my head down and shoving my hands deep in my pockets. The walk was a short one, 157 steps to be precise. In the weeks since Carl asked Daryl, Merle, and I to help him oversee the transition at The Sanctuary I'd made it every day.

When I pulled open the door the hallway was dim, a faint moldy smell tickling my nose. Despite my best efforts when the door slammed shut behind me a chill worked its way up my spine. This part of The Sanctuary wasn't used anymore, at least not in the way it had been before, but naming it something else didn't erase what it was, a glimpse into the worst parts of human nature.

Just like every other day I didn't remember the journey down the hall, not the specifics. The only thing I was consciously aware of were my turbulent thoughts. My palms were slick with sweat when I grabbed the door handle, opening the cell and hesitantly walking inside on shaking legs.

I didn't even make it a full minute before my back hit the cold concrete wall, feet sliding out from under me until I was sitting tucked in a corner. My eyes roamed the small space taking in the reddish-brown stain in the far corner, my blood. Merle was responsible for cleaning out the prison cells when we first arrived. He'd personally scrubbed this one, not trusting anyone else to do the task, but bleach and soap couldn't remove the taint.

The pipe running along the far wall was still there, but the handcuffs that were used to restrain me, cage me, were long gone. When I closed my eyes I could still feel the way the metal rings ate away at the delicate skin on my wrists. Unconsciously I rubbed them, checking my fingertips for blood I knew wasn't there. The faint stench of disinfectant lingered, but all I smelled was the odor of urine, bile, and excrement. My stomach rolled, and I took a deep breath despite the stench, trying to quell my nausea.