𝟽- 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜

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Third Person POV𓅓

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Third Person POV
𓅓

  Daryl stood there, staring down at his brothers hand surrounded by slightly dried up blood, and handcuffs that had blood splattered all over them, dangling from a piece of metal. The sight made his blood boil.

  RJ could practically feel the pot boiling over, and she took a step forward, knowing that if anything went wrong, she wouldn't want Rick to be the one to disarm anyone.
  She just got him back, and she didn't want there to be any misfires. The thing was, Rick had the same idea about RJ, he just got her back.

  The officer had already gotten himself closer, not only to get a good look at the hand, but to stay close to the loose cannon.

  T-dog had walked up, feeling as guilty as ever. In an instant, Daryl had his crossbow aimed at T's head, his breath fast and erratic as he tried his best not to shoot the man that doomed his brother.
  Rick though, he had the quickest draw that RJ had ever seen, and he had his Python aimed at Daryl's head.

  RJ's hand hovered above her Beretta. Her mind was in a state of tug-of-war. Her loyalties were being tested, and she knew that.
  Did she help the short-tempered redneck that she'd grown strangely fond of? Or did she help T-dog, a man who accidentally left her best friend on a roof?
  Of course to a normal person the question would be obvious; help the redneck. But helping the redneck would mean betraying her brother by not being on his side. Her eyes flashed between the three, unsure of what to do.

  "I won't hesitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it." Of course you wouldn't, she thought angrily.

  She was in a tight spot, and only hoped that Daryl would put his crossbow down. If he really wanted revenge, then he could kick his ass later, but at the moment they had a trail to track.

  Daryl seemed to really struggle for a moment, bitter and sad about his brothers disappearance. It was a relieving sight to not see Merle's dead body on that roof, but it still wasn't pleasant when all they saw was sawed off hand.

  Body parts separated from the body wasn't something that RJ hadn't seen before. She'd been involved in many interrogations against many enemies, and when they didn't want to give information, RJ and her team didn't want to give mercy. She just hated the sight of someone she knew and—even if she hated admitting it—cared for having their body parts cut off.

  Reluctantly, Daryl lowered his crossbow, but Rick took a minute before he decided that Daryl was fine, and lowered his Python. A small relieved sigh left RJ's mouth as she walked past the guys having a dick fight.

  She crouched by the hand, inspecting the blood and the hand. The blood was drying, but the blood in the middle was still wet, meaning he had been gone for a while, but he could still be around.

Quiet | Daryl DixonWhere stories live. Discover now