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Memento Mori, Memento Vivere (Series)
Memento Mori, Memento Vivere part two
("Remember you must die, so remember to live")
Summary: The world went to shit when 28-year-old, Antonia De La Cruz, was on vacation in Atlanta, Georgia. Far away from her life in Portland, Oregon she has to learn how to survive after the hotel she was staying in got overrun. Alone or with the group she found scavenging for supplies.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Original Character
A/N: This is a series! Updates on Ao3 and wattpad. User is bloomedaster across all platforms. Wrote this while running a fever.
Word Count: 3.9k
Contains: Mentions of blood. NO USE OF A.I. Flashbacks. Bad dreams. Daryl being rude. Oc being underestimated.
I open my eyes as soon as the truck stops. I had fallen asleep after leaving the city. The anxiety and the running drained the energy from my body. Andrea nudged me awake.
“We’re here”
I nod and rub my eyes before joining everybody else. Small cheers come from the campers that fill my view. There are more than a dozen of them waiting around to see who made it back. Everyone seems to have someone to come back to. My heart stings just a little at the realization. What does it feel like to have someone be relieved that you made it back?
“You guys were able to get out!”
Some lady nearby exclaims. Morales turns to the truck where Rick was still sitting.
“New guy helped us out.”
“New guy?”
All eyes turn to Rick. Even mine. He walks up, but his eyes stray to a mother and her child. He stumbles in shock. A minute after, the little boy I’m assuming is the son he was searching for runs up into his arms.
My eyes water looking at the scene beside me. Rick seems to be one of the lucky ones. He found his family safe and sound. Not many people get that chance anymore. I blink the tears away before anyone gets the opportunity to see them.
“C’mon lets introduce you to everybody.”
Glenn says while he walks towards me. I nod and follow him further into camp. By now, Rick, his son, and his wife are joining us.
“Guys, this is Antonia.”
Glenn introduces me, and the camp’s eyes all turn to me. I feel slightly overwhelmed with all the newfound attention. I raise my hand and throw a small wave towards everybody.
“Hello…”
‘Hi’ and ‘Welcome’ are thrown my way before a few families go about their business. I breathe out as the attention falls away and I’m left with Glenn by my side.
“Hey Antonia! Come on, I want you to meet some people.”
Andrea waves me over. She stands near an RV with a girl in her arms. They look pretty much alike. Same blond hair and bright blue eyes. They must be sisters. Glenn says he’ll catch up with me later and walks off, leaving me to head over to Andrea.
“This is Antonia; we found her- well, she found us while we were picking over what was left of a pharmacy in the city.”
Andrea mentions. I give them a small smile and extend my hand out to her sister and the older man with a bucket hat and binoculars in one hand. They shake my hand and introduce themselves as Amy and Dale.
“We have an extra tent you can have. Me and Amy sleep in Dale’s RV.”
“Thank you. It’ll be an upgrade from the emergency blankets I’ve been using to sleep.”
I let out a small laugh. Andrea is the only one who reciprocates the same laugh. Dale, on the other hand, looks confused. Or is it disbelief? I’m not entirely sure, and I don’t get to figure it out because I get pulled away before I can.
The rest of the evening is spent setting up my tent. Shane, the leader of the camp, came by while I was setting up and taught me how to actually put one up. Growing up in Los Angeles hadn’t given me much experience in camping, and when I moved to Portland I was focused on paying bills and saving up enough money to travel.
While putting up the tent, Shane gave me tips on what to do in case I didn’t have stakes to hold the tent down or how to take it down and pack it when I’m done. I made sure to file the information away for later. After I thanked him, he went on his way.
The inside of the tent was pretty bare. My backpack was the only thing in there. I huffed before stepping back out into the fresh air. Figured I should get acquainted with the people here if I plan to stay.
Now, I sit around the fire under the dark night sky. I try not to look up a suspicious number of times, but without all the light pollution from the city, the stars are visible. Seeing so many stars in the sky isn’t something I’m used to. I don’t realize I’m not paying attention to Rick until he’s done with his story.
“How about you, Antonia?”
Dale asks from the other side of the fire.
“Sorry?”
“Where are you from?”
“Oh… Um, I’m from California.”
I respond while I play with the unzipped slider on my sweater.
“California? Which part?”
“Los Angeles.”
“Ah! Hollywood.”
A smile comes to my lips. If I had a penny for every time I heard that, I’d be able to live in Hollywood.
“Unfortunately, no. I lived on the ‘poor side’ of Los Angeles.”
Grinning, I pull my sweater close. I wait for someone to take over the conversation, but they’re all waiting on me to continue.
“I grew up in South L.A. Far away from Hollywood. Only time I was close to that side of town was while I worked as a waitress at a rooftop restaurant.”
Dale nods, satisfied with the information I give up. T-dog questions me next.
“So how’d you end up in Georgia?”
“That’s a longer story.”
“Good thing we got time.”
Laughter is heard around the campfire. My own joining theirs.
“Alright... erm, well I wanted to celebrate my birthday with a vacation-”
I start before Glenn interrupts me.
“And you chose Georgia?”
I snort and nod.
“Yes. You guys have the biggest aquarium in the world.”
“You wanted to spend your birthday vacation watching fish?”
There’s judgment in Glenn’s voice as he asks. The people around the campfire are trying to hide their laugh.
“What’s wrong with that? I like museums and aquariums. Besides, that wasn’t the only thing on my itinerary.”
“Nothing wrong with it. Just think, for a vacation you’d go to the best restaurants. Anything but an aquarium.”
I shrug and stare into the fire.
“To each their own. But I would pick that over the best restaurants.”
Glenn shakes his head and scoffs with disapproval. He can’t believe I would seriously choose something so simple.
“Did you get stuck here?”
Rick asks. He’s holding on to Lori, his wife, and his son Carl is lying in his lap. I nod.
“Yep. My flight was for the 29th of August. When I tried to move it up to go back to my family, there weren’t any flights available.”
I explain. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, staying was probably the best option. If I had actually gotten on a plane earlier, I don’t know if I would’ve made it halfway home before the plane went down.
“So I stayed in my hotel with the people and the staff who hadn’t been infected yet.”
“You said you were alone when we found you.”
Andrea says. It’s more of a question, but it comes off as a statement. I nod, Gary’s face popping into my head.
“I was. The hotel didn’t last long. It got overrun by demons a few weeks in after some of us went out for food.”
The growls of the demons are clear in my head. If I focus hard enough, it’s like they’re right in my ear.
“Demons?”
Amy, Andrea’s little sister, asks.
“You call them geeks. A guy I was close with back at the hotel called them demons… kinda stuck.”
She nods as if she understands what I mean. She then asks me what happened to him. Andrea gives her a look. She knows there is a good chance something happened to him based on the fact he wasn’t with me when I found them.
“He got bit-”
I’m interrupted by the sound of wood crackling in the nearby campfire. A guy named Ed had dropped a piece of firewood into the fire, which apparently is a big no-no because Shane tells him off for it. My eyes peel open when Ed talks back to Shane, who decides to stand up and head over. I watch Shane and Ed go back and forth before Ed’s wife, Carol, takes it out. She apologizes. Shane says it ain’t her fault and the night continues. They all sit back down, but I can’t take my eyes off Ed and Carol. There’s a different kind of look in her eyes. One I’ve seen too many times in my own family.
“What are we gonna do about Daryl?”
Dale asks the group. People immediately stiffen at the mention of this Daryl guy.
“Who’s Daryl?”
I silently ask Glenn beside me.
“Merle’s younger brother.”
He informs me. My eyes widen an inch. Based on what I experienced within 5 seconds of meeting Merle, I have the feeling Daryl won’t be any different than his older, bigoted, and prejudiced brother.
“Is he as well-mannered as Merle?”
Sarcasm coats my sentence. The pure lack of silence from the people around the campfire gives me my answer.
“Okay, so what are we gonna do?”
The group goes into a full-blown discussion. Andrea says what is on everyone’s minds. Merle Dixon was a liability. He seemed like he could fend for himself, but he’s the type of guy you walk on eggshells around. Not to mention the racist bullshit he spews. Still, saying that to his little brother won’t help any of us if he’s the same way.
T-dog believes he should be the one to tell him, but Glenn stops him right in his tracks. Says it would be better coming from Rick, given he is a white guy. Jesus. The more I find out about these brothers, the less I like them.
“Before I left, I made sure the geeks weren’t able to get him…”
He pauses and looks around the campfire before starting again.
“They won’t be able to break through. He’s still up here, alive.”
He walks off to his corner of the camp and leaves us all to the warmth of the fire. Sighing, I announce that I’m turning in for the night.
“Thank you… for everything.”
I tell the group. They all helped me today in their own way, and for that I am grateful. A few reply as I make my way to my tent.
It’s spacious, but I can’t tell if it’s because it’s a big tent or because the only thing I own is my backpack and a wooden bat. A blanket is at the corner of the tent. Seems someone has left me a little gift. I’ll make sure to thank whoever left it in here, but all I can do right now is toss my shoes off and unfold the blanket to pull it over me. I bring my backpack under my head and use it as a makeshift pillow. When I close my eyes, it doesn’t take long for me to knock out.
“I’ll go out for food in the morning, don’t worry.”
I’m sitting in an office. I’ve been here before. I’ve eaten this food before. I’ve said this exact same sentence before. I look up.
“No, you won’t. This is my last meal. Food'll last you more than a few days.”
Gary. What the hell? Am I dead?
“What do you mean this is your last meal?”
He doesn’t answer. I’ve lived this before. What is happening to me?
“Gary?”
He won’t give me an answer. He’s looking down at his own open can of food.
“Why won’t you answer me?”
Gary puts down his can and gives me a knowing look. His brown eyes look tired. Defeated might be a better word to describe them. I feel my eyes fill with tears. No. No. No. This isn’t happening again. Gary lifts up his shirt. A bright red bite mark stands out on his dark brown skin. I break down in sobs as I move closer to the bite mark. I wrap my arms around him and cry into his shoulder. He brings his arms around me and tries to calm me down.
There are tears in my eyes when I open them. They just keep coming, and they won’t stop. I dreamed about him again. It’s not the first time I’ve woken up in tears because I relived the night I lost Gary, but it still hurts all the same. Using the sleeve of my sweater, I wipe the fresh tears on my cheek.
“Get it together.”
My tears slow just enough for my vision to clear. I fold the blanket I tossed off of me when I sat up. It goes in the corner with my backpack and my bat before I step out of my tent. It’s still early in the morning, so there’s only one or two campers walking around. I walk back into the tent to grab my knife and sweater before heading back out and into the woods.
It’s peaceful the farther I go into the treeline. There’s no one around to see or hear me cry. Not even demons geeks are out this far. Shane had said as much while putting up my tent.
The trees go on as far as my eyes can see. Gary would’ve liked this place. He talked about his family every chance he got. One night he told me all about his camping trips with his wife and kids over a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
The tears begin again. I walk over to a tree and slide down the bark. My head goes into my hands. During the short time I knew Gary, we became close. We both got stuck in the hotel while the world fell apart. He worked there as one of the bellhops. That was his job for the past 20 years. We had similar circumstances. Neither of us knew if our families were safe or not. The streets were full of the geeks before he could get home or I could get on a plane.
The hotel was our home for weeks until geeks got in after some folks had gone on a run to grab supplies. I had thought we’d gotten out clean. Unharmed. It looked that way up until Gary showed me his bite. Choking sobs leave my body when I remember the sight.
I lift my head when I hear a branch snap. My hand goes directly to my knife. A man appears from behind a tree. He’s holding a black crossbow in his hands, and it’s pointed straight at me.
“Who are ya?”
He asks. I can’t see his face clearly. The crossbow does its job of hiding it. Panic sets into my chest. If I scream for help, will people in camp be able to get here in time?
“Nobody- I mean I- my name’s Antonia.”
“What’re you doing out here? You bit?”
My brows furrow. I wipe my eyes for stray tears before shaking my head.
“No, I just- Who are you?”
“None of your damn business. You seen a deer come ‘round here?”
“No, and I would appreciate it if you would put the damn crossbow down. I’m not looking to hurt you.”
I use the tree to stand up. The man puts his crossbow down, but I don’t miss the scoff he lets out as he does so.
“Even if you tried, you wouldn’t get within-”
He gets interrupted by a scream. Our heads whip towards the noise. It’s coming from the direction of the camp. I turn to meet his eyes already on mine. He’s just as confused as I am. I don’t stick around to chat more than I already have. More screams come from camp. It’s a kid calling for their mother. I break into a sprint towards the screams, but I hear footsteps behind me.
“Quit following me.”
There is a noticeable amount of irritation in my voice when I look back at the man who had his crossbow aimed at me 5 minutes ago. His brows furrow in confusion.
“I ain’t.”
He says simply before getting ahead of me. I scoff before picking up my pace. The trees turn into bushes the closer we get to where the screams came from. The archer slows down before walking into a clearing on the outskirts of camp.
We find Rick and a few other men from camp with weapons in their hands, ready to attack us. Judging by the deer and the decapitated geek, followed by the blood around them, they thought we were geeks.
“What’s going on?”
I ask. Relief washes over the men’s faces when it’s just the stranger and me popping out of the woods. Behind them stand Andrea and Amy, who look horrified, and farther back Lori and Carol are comforting their kids.
“The geek was eating the deer and the kids got scared.”
Glenn answers. The man on my right isn’t too pleased by the looks of it. He’s pissed that the geek got to the deer before he did, and even gets a bit of his frustration out by kicking the immobile decapitated corpse. Dale tries to talk him down from it, but it only makes it worse. I’ve known him for all of fifteen minutes, and the only thing he’s done is be rude. I scoff at the scene and make my way towards the camp.
A hand wraps around my forearm and pulls me back gently. I look at the owner of the hand, and it’s Andrea’s hand.
“Are you okay?”
She asks. There is worry written all over her face. I’m confused for a moment before I remember the puffy and—what I’m presuming are—the red eyes she’s concerned about.
“Oh… yeah. I just needed to clear my head and think.”
She nods, but the concern doesn’t wash away.
“Did Daryl do anything to you?”
I furrow my brows before turning back to the guy who was still trying to save his deer. So he’s the one everyone is worried about. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t say he’s exactly like his brother, but I did just meet him, so the jury is still out.
“No… well, he did aim his crossbow at my face, but he thought I was bit so…”
Andrea and her sister looked even more perplexed than before, so I assured them that he didn’t try anything before I started making my way back to camp with the others.
When we get back to camp, everyone is on edge. Behind me, Daryl’s calling out for his brother Merle. Everyone turns to look at him. Shane is the one to speak up first. It feels as though everyone in camp holds their breath. Shane tells him there’s been a problem. Daryl immediately asks if he’s dead. The uncertain answer Shane gives Daryl doesn’t help in the slightest. Rick finally intervenes in the conversation and explains exactly what happened in the city.
Daryl begins pacing around, and it’s not long before he’s throwing the squirrels around his neck at Rick and swinging. Fortunately for Rick, Shane is quick to make sure Daryl doesn’t hurt him.
At some point, Shane has him in a chokehold, and Rick is trying to calm him down. There is no way Daryl is going to get over his brother being left behind, but he does calm down enough for Shane to let him go.
“It’s my fault that he’s up there.”
T-dog finally joins the conversation. He explains that it’s his fault Merle’s on a rooftop and that he is still alive, given that he secured the door to keep out any of the geeks. Rationality not being Daryl’s top priority, he decides he’ll go on a suicide mission for his brother.
“He’ll show you.”
Lori, who’s beside me, speaks up. She doesn’t look pleased by the idea of him going back into the city, but she knows the type of man her husband is. Just like Lori says, Rick tells Daryl he’s going back into the city.
I shake my head. It’s a truly idiotic decision. Willingly going back into the city is begging for one of the geeks to rip you to shreds. I choose to stay out of it, and like the rest of the camp, I go back to doing my own thing.
The Georgia sun came through the cloudy morning sky and was now shining straight on the camp. Sweat clings to my forehead. The sweater I have on is not helping my case at all. I unzip the sweater and throw it into my tent. The light breeze on my skin feels a thousand times better.
I look around the camp, Daryl getting ready to leave. The kids go back to playing. Carol is folding clothes and fabrics on the ironing board. My eyes land on a pillowcase with the same design as the blanket that’s folded in my tent. I make my way over to her, and I’m greeted with her small smile.
“Hey.”
I give her a smile big enough to show I’m friendly but small enough to not seem crazy.
“Hello.”
Her smile is polite. Her hands don’t stop reaching for clothes in front of her.
“Thank you.”
It’s a simple word, but she seems thrown off by it all the same.
“It was nice to have something as normal as a blanket again.”
My words are sincere. I’ve been using those emergency blankets for a while. They were smaller and easier to pack while I was out there, so they had to do.
“No need to thank me. I had an extra.”
Her eyes don’t stay on me; they dart around the camp. She seems very alert about the people around her, but I don’t mention it so as not to break the rapport we’ve built in the last five minutes.
“Your bandage needs to be changed.”
Her eyes were now on the gauze taped to my arm. In all the drama of this morning, I forgot about the cut on my arm. Carol finishes folding before she comes over and tells me to sit down so she can help. I don’t question it; I just sit down where she tells me.
She takes off the used gauze and places it aside before grabbing one of the first aids and using a bit of water to clean the cut again.
“How’d you get it?”
She asks as she cleans around the wound.
“Fell on a shard of glass at a convenience store when a geek got too close to me.”
I explain. She nods and starts applying some of that antibiotic cream that’s helping the cut remain uninfected. When she finishes that up, I thank her. She says it’s no problem while putting gauze and a bit of tape to keep it in place.
“You a nurse?”
“No. Not at all… I just have my daughter, Sofia. You learn how to take care of cuts and bruises.”
She offers a simple smile to throw me off whatever foul scent I could possibly pick up on. I don’t miss it, but it’s pretty obvious she doesn’t want to draw attention to it, so I don’t press for more details. Instead, I thank her one last time before heading over to the small group that’s formed.
I catch on to the end of Lori’s sentence. She is skeptical about only Rick and Daryl going out. Rick turns to Glenn. The unspoken question hangs in the air. Rick wants Glenn to accompany them into the city.
“I’ll go.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Masterlist | Next Chapter
Memento Mori, Memento Vivere Series
("Remember you must die, so remember to live")
(Daryl Dixon x Original Character)
One
Two
Memento Mori, Memento Vivere part one
("Remember you must die, so remember to live")
Summary: The world went to shit when 28-year-old, Antonia De La Cruz, was on vacation in Atlanta, Georgia. Far away from her life in Portland, Oregon she has to learn how to survive after the hotel she was staying in got overrun. Alone or with the group she found scavenging for supplies.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Original Character
A/N: This is a series! Updates on Ao3 and wattpad. User is bloomedaster across all platforms.
Word Count: 4k
Contains: Mentions of blood and gore. Mentions of Religion. Author isn't religious. Oc isn't religious. Merle Dixon is bigoted. No slurs actually written. Oc is Mexican American. No use of AI. Not proof read.
divider by me <3
I tear the shirt apart with my bare hands. It rips easily enough. I’ve seen the others do this before. I wrap the smaller portion of the fabric around my bleeding arm. Blood runs all the way down to my hand as I try to keep pressure on the wound.
Erghhhh
Shit. The banging on the door hasn’t stopped. I try to gauge the severity of the wound on my arm in the bathroom mirror in front of me.
Being stuck in a convenience store’s bathroom is not ideal. I had come in to find anything that wasn’t already picked over. At first, everything seemed quiet until I turned my back to look at the alcohol that hadn’t been taken. After the last 2 months I’ve endured, I believed I was allowed a shot or two. It wasn’t until the demon previous owner of the store had come from behind the counter and come inches from turning me into one of them that I realized I wasn’t alone.
I fell backwards before it was able to touch me. The gash on my arm came from sliding backwards on the floor with rogue glass shards to get away from the rotting corpse moving towards me. I was able to lock myself inside the bathroom safely, but I needed to leave asap. I don’t necessarily plan on dying in a convenience store bathroom.
The bleeding had stopped enough not to cause a dripping mess. I picked up a bat before I had locked myself in here. Dried blood stained the barrel of the bat. I’m guessing it belonged to the decayed bodies in the hallway. I try not to dwell too much on that as I reach for the lock. The growls of the dead store owner have not stopped. Thankfully, I don’t hear any others. I’ve killed plenty of them before, but it’s still not easy. I still see remnants of the people they were before turning. My eyes fill as I think back to the hotel and the people who didn’t make it. I look up at the ceiling to hold back the tears. I blink rapidly before going back to the task at hand. There is no way I’m losing focus right now.
The door clicks once I unlock it. The demon growls again. I breathe in before opening the door swiftly. The decayed corpse sways forward. His arms sprang forward, trying to get a hold of me. I hold the bat up, and I bring it down on the demon’s head, battering its skull in. The corpse falls limp on the floor. A few seconds passed before I moved out of the bathroom in case more demons were lurking about. The door clicks as it closes again, and I continue picking up supplies.
I’m able to score some canned food, bottled water, matches, and a half-empty first aid kit behind the counter. My backpack is filled with supplies as I head out into the Atlanta sun. The streets are empty save for a few stragglers milling about the road.
The idea is to get supplies and leave the city once I get enough to hold me over for a week or two. I’ve been holing up anywhere that’s quiet and clean for the past week. I have no idea where I’m going. The map in my bag is no use either. It had ripped during my escape from the hotel I was staying in.
I’ll keep heading west. There’s no destination in mind yet. I can’t go back home. I lost that chance when I decided to wait this out in a hotel room. That was about 2 months ago. So now, I’m alone with little to no survival skills in a city filled with demons. I breathe in deeply and let go. I look around the street I’m on.
There is a pharmacy across the street. Stepping onto the road, subconsciously I look left and right as if there were cars to come. No cars to be seen, only moving dead bodies.
When I’m across, I push and pull on the door trying to get in. It’s not locked, but there is something against the door blocking my way in. The windows on the side of the building all seem to be blocked. I can’t see anything inside. I lean all my weight on the door, trying to push it open. My feet slide against the concrete, getting absolutely nowhere. I grunt, needing a break.
“What the hell did they barricade this damn door with?”
I sigh before going back to the door. My sides slam into the door. Again and again. Whatever is behind the door, I can feel it move slowly. By the time I get a small opening big enough for me to slide in through the side of my body hurts. I ignore it for now and slip in with my bat in hand in case I have to put down any more demons.
The inside is dark; only a few rays of the sun are able to come in. A huge shelf is behind the door I just slipped in through.
“So you’re why the side of my body hurts.”
Scoffing, I barricade the door again so nothing gets in. I haven’t heard any growls, so I doubt there is anything in here. My assumptions are proved wrong when I turn to find a rifle in my face.
“Now look what we’ave here.”
A man, looks to be about his late 40s to early 50s, with white and graying hair, stands before me. He isn’t alone. There’s a group scattered around the room. My hands are up. The bat I was holding rolled away when I dropped it.
“S-sorry, I didn’t know you guys were in here. I was just looking for supplies.”
I stammer. I’ve never had a gun pointed at my face before. A chilling sensation rolls down my back.
“You alone?”
The man speaks again. He looks down at the gold-plated ring on my left finger. A ring my grandparents had given me years ago for my 15th birthday.
“Y-yes?”
“Ain’t a question. You alone or not, sweetheart?”
The term is endearing, but his tone isn’t. I pretend I haven’t noticed the way the man’s eyes roam over me like I’m some prey. Disgust sits in my stomach. I’ve dealt with men like him before the world went to shit; it seems they’ve only gotten worse.
“I’m alone-”
“Put the rifle down, Merle.”
A man, younger, comes from behind the counter of the pharmacy. I look between him and the older man. They argue back and forth before the guy I now know as Merle sets the gun down. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My arms come down, and I reach for the bat on the floor.
“Hey, I’m sorry about him.”
Merle gives him a dirty look.
“I’m Glenn. You said you’re alone?”
I nod, wary of the group staring at me, as I’ll somehow be able to take down all of them before they can get me. Glenn seems to be more pacified than Merle, but I’m not taking any chances. ‘You are the company you keep’ and all that. The rest of the group comes forward and introduces themselves. Andrea, T-dog, Jacqui, and Morales. It only seems right to give them my name after they gave theirs up.
“I’m Antonia… Is it only you guys in the group?”
Glenn shakes his head. He explains there are more people in his group. They just came into town for a supply run. I nod in acknowledgment as we walk through the pharmacy. The others had gone back to their thing.
“Is your arm okay?”
Glenn asks, looking down at my arm. The blood running down my arm had dried by now, and the bleeding had stopped.
“It’s fine, just slipped and cut myself on some glass.”
Jacqui walks over and tells me to sit down so she can check my cut. She brings out a first aid kit from her bag, and we sit down in the corner away from the group ransacking the place. She unwraps the ‘bandage’ I had on my arm before she pours water on my arm to clean the cut.
“You’re not from around here, are ya, honey?”
“Sorry?”
“Your accent. Not from here.”
She tends to my wound. It’s not as bad as it looked when I was bleeding all over the place. She puts on antibiotic cream on the gash before dressing the wound with gauze.
“No… I’m not from here. I’m from Los Angeles, California.”
Her eyes widen slightly as she applies tape to keep the gauze in place. Yep. That’s usually the reaction I receive when I tell people where I’m from.
“That’s far. How’d you end up here?”
“Long story…”
She hums, noting I’m not up for story time just yet. Glenn comes over again, seems he’s finished up, grabbing what he needed.
“Listen, we got a camp off the side of the interstate. We don’t have much, but you can come back with us. We try to keep it as fair as possible so we all contribute.”
I try to come up with a reason I shouldn’t. The reality is there is none. At this moment I am completely alone. There is no group I can count on, nor do I have some place to be. My best chance at surviving this thing is in a group. I look around at the group who is already staring at me.
“Works for me.”
Glenn nods. I thank Jacqui for helping me with my wound. She gives me a smile and puts away her things. Glenn’s already moving the shelf away from the door to let the group out. We don’t make it 20 feet from the pharmacy before gunshots echo through the streets.
“In there, now.”
Glenn guides the group into a department store building. He keeps his voice low enough so as not to bring attention to us, although the gunshots don’t help at all. We run inside and close the door behind us.
“What the hell was that?”
I ask, looking out of the window.
“I don’t know, but they just called every one of those things into the city.”
I sigh and slide down the wall, sitting on the cold floor a second later. A small crowd of demons passes by the front door. The streets have gone silent, but they still follow the direction from which the sound came. A small crowd starts peeling off from the rest and piles up in front of the glass doors. They can see us moving and hiding inside.
“I’m going back out.”
Glenn’s already halfway towards the side door. Andrea tries to stop him, but it’s no use. Glenn is already walking towards where the shots came from.
“Well shit… g’damn kid got more balls than I thought.”
Merle speaks, but the group’s quiet. He grumbles a few words before disappearing. No one seems to try to stop him. Further proves my assumption that Merle isn’t necessarily the group’s favorite.
“Will he be okay?”
I ask to no one in particular. The group sends looks to each other, having a small and silent conversation with each other. T-dog is the one who speaks up now.
“Yeah, he will. Glenn is luckier than all of us combined.”
The group laughs; even some of them agree with him. Okay… so Merle is the problem. I place my palms on my knees and use them to stand up. I figure that staying still won’t help the anxious feeling in my chest.
A few minutes go by, and there is still no sign of Glenn. In that time, I found a nice change of clothes. All I brought with me from the hotel was the shirt I ripped in the bathroom earlier, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of jeans. I had to pack close to nothing to fit the rest of my supplies, but now I am out of clothes for the hot Georgia weather.
California is hot, yes, but not as humid. My skin feels sticky after sweating so much. It’s another con for the mental pros and cons list I’ve made up. So far the cons column outweighs the pros.
I walk over to a nearby rack of clothes. Some of the pieces are on the floor, dirty and ripped, caused by the commotion I undoubtedly believe happened on the day everything went downhill. Subconsciously, I still reach for the tag. Now, it’s more out of curiosity. How much would I have paid for this when an economy was still a thing? Answer: $35.50. I scoff.
Jesus.
I grab the gray short sleeve shirt and check for the size before taking off my current shirt, carefully making sure the bandage on my arm stays in place. When I’m sure the shirt fits fine I dispose of the old and bloody shirt. I’m about to move on to jeans when I hear gunshots again. This time closer to the store.
The blonde woman, Andrea, looks panicked. I follow her eyes to the glass door where we entered from. The crowd has exponentially become bigger since I last saw it. The pressure of that many demons on the glass will make it difficult for the entrance to hold. Andrea groans and sprints towards the direction Glenn left. I follow behind her, but I’m not able to take my eyes off the entrance. It’s terrifying. Flashbacks from the hotel flood my mind. I shake them off when Glenn’s voice comes over the radio.
He mentions bringing someone and rogue demons in the alley. T-dog and Morales are immediately heading towards the alley, and I stay behind with Andrea in what looks to be a storage room.
Not even a minute later, T-dog, Morales, Glenn, and a man in a sheriff uniform run into the room. No one gets a chance to speak before Andrea is pushing the Sheriff onto some boxes, pointing a gun at his face. I step back, letting the others intervene. She’s pissed and blaming him for our deaths that haven’t happened yet. Morales tries to get her to back off, but it’s no use. She’s emotional for a second before her principles wins over her anger and she backs off.
The sheriff looks confused. He doesn’t understand the hostility he’s met with. Morales isn’t particularly happy either, but his reaction is to tell him off rather than point a gun at him.
We make our way to the front of the store again while they press him about shooting at the demons and drawing attention to us. The glass at the entrance has begun to crack under the pressure. Anxiety returns to my chest.
A demon’s arm slips in through the door. The man trying to keep the doors shut calls for help. The people standing by, looking at the door in terror, are careful to walk towards the door and help. I can’t move. The fear in my body spreads, and I’m unable to move a single muscle. Some of the canned food I was holding onto slips from my hold. Gary snaps me out of it.
“Come on. We need to go now.”
I hear him, but the words feel so far away. My lungs can’t seem to get enough air. Gary’s hand wraps around my forearm and urges me to move.
“You’re okay. You’re fine. Just keep moving.”
Gary continues his efforts in snapping me out of whatever I’m feeling. I’m finally able to take my eyes off the door to follow him past the lobby and the elevators into one of the hotel’s banquet halls.
I snap out of the memory when one of the demons slams a rock against the glass. I move back with the others, and the sheriff begins to explain why he was outside in the first place. I can’t follow the conversation with my head reeling. The words helicopters and hallucinations do stick out to me. Apparently the cop is a wacko?
Shots are heard again. This time from our own group. We all follow the gunshots to the roof to find Merle standing on the edge of the roof and shooting down at the demons below us. Morales springs into action, telling him off for creating noise and drawing the demons to us.
Things get heated when T-dog gets involved. The group stays back until punches are flying due to Merle’s bigotry. The sheriff gets involved, and he ends up over a pipe. Merle goes back to T-dog and decides to pull a gun on him after he’s on the ground. Then we’re all pleading for Merle to get off of him.
Merle tries to take charge. I scoff at his pathetic actions. I wasn’t wrong about him. He’s the exact asshole I pegged him to be since I met him. The idiot is so satisfied with finally being in charge that he doesn’t see the cop pick up his rifle and come over to knock him to the ground with it. All he was able to get done in his 30 seconds of leadership is get cuffed to a pipe.
I move towards T-dog on the ground. I ask if he’s okay, but all he can do is groan in pain. The sheriff is telling Merle off while I dig through my backpack for the first aid kit I found earlier. There is a single use instant cold pack I shake and squeeze before handing it to him.
“Not much, but it should help some.”
“Thank you.”
After the cop told Merle off, things calmed down. T-dog kept trying to reach their people back at camp while I looked over the edge. Demons filled the streets. Not an unusual sight, but still not preferable.
“How are we getting out of here? There is no way we get through any of that.”
I speak up. The others agree. I see the frustration appear on their faces as we go over different options.
Merle tries to get Andrea to un-cuff him, but she’d rather die than let him free. He runs his vulgar mouth again.
“Are slurs the only thing that comes out of your mouth?”
I’ve had enough of his derogatory vocabulary towards anyone who refuses to stoop to his level.
“Honey, stop being such a snowflake. You ain’t gonna last two days out here like that.”
His tone irks me, but ‘Officer friendly’ interrupts before I’m able to respond. He asks about the sewers. If we’re able, we can walk through the sewers and get out of here without running into the demons.
We split up into groups. Everyone except for me, T-dog, and Merle made their way down the stairs. I decided to stay behind with T-dog to make sure he was alright.
He kept trying to reach anybody within our range. I busied myself with looking over the edge. At times the demons would move away only to come back again and bang on the glass.
T-dog was getting impatient. He was talking to the walkie-talkie more frequently. After 10 times of him trying the same thing over and over again, Merle had enough and began running his mouth again.
“I’m getting sick of hearing your voice every 10 seconds.”
“Rather hear his voice 100 more times than yours for one more god damn minute.”
My back is turned to Merle. I don’t even look at him. I don’t need to. I know he’s wearing that stupid grin he uses when someone’s insulted him, and he’s trying to take it on the chin.
“Well look whose got a voice now.”
I ignore him.
“How about you c’mere and get me out of these handcuffs? Never been with one of your kind before, but I’ll make an exception for you, honey.”
“Try them again.”
I turn to T-dog. I would rather be stuck downstairs with the demons and let them rip me apart than ever let the racist junkie ever touch me.
T-dog goes back to the radio. Eventually, the group comes back up. No good news. The sewers aren’t an option, and the demons got through the first set of glass. I sigh and sit next to T-dog.
A new idea arises. Creating a distraction loud enough for the demons to hear so they’re drawn away and we can make our escape.
It’s a great plan until we’re downstairs using demon guts as cover scent. I gag in the corner while Glenn and the cop cover themselves in the demons’ blood.
“You guys smell terrible.”
I cover my nose as they finish lathering on its guts.
“Good. Means they won’t smell us and we’ll be able to get to the construction site.”
Officer Grimes says.
“Right… woo!”
I let out a sarcastic cheer with my hand raised just enough in a fist bump. He gives me a look before handing the cuff keys to T-dog and chopping up more of the demon.
Once he feels there is enough on them, they step out of the department store once again, and we race to the roof. We all run to the edge to watch them make it out of the barricaded alley undetected.
When T-dog tries the walkie-talkie again, there’s static coming from it before a man responds. My head whips to the man on the floor. He tries to explain the situation, but the connection is spotty. A moment later, the channel goes silent.
“You think they heard you?”
“Can’t tell…”
The sky above suddenly goes from blue to gray and cloudy. Rain starts to pour. On any other day I’d be grateful for the natural shower, but not when the guts start washing off Officer Grimes and Glenn.
“They better hope the guts will be enough.”
As if I jinxed it, Officer Grimes pulls the axe over his head before splitting a demon’s head wide open and making a run for it with Glenn. The noise causes the demons surrounding them to go after them until they’re over the gate. They barely make it to the truck before taking off in the opposite direction.
“They’re leaving us…”
Andrea says with panic in her voice.
“No. He wouldn’t leave us like that…”
I try to calm her down. A guy who makes sure we knew the name of the demon—former human—they were cutting into isn’t a guy who’d end up leaving us.
Glenn comes over the walkie-talkie, giving us instructions. Pack up and head to the roll-up doors near the street. We immediately move. I grab my backpack and follow Andrea, Jacqui, and Morales down the stairs. I’m not familiar with the layout of the place at all. We make it downstairs in record time and wait for Glenn. A car alarm blares closer to the store.
“Is that him?”
“Must be. They’re drawing them away.”
T-dog comes in announcing that the demons have broken through the second glass and are coming in. We pull the chains up to open the doors when Officer Grimes bangs on the roll-up door.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
He helps load up the bags into the back of the truck. We pile in while he goes to the cabin of the truck and puts it in drive. The walkers are right on our ass as Officer Grimes pulls away from the department store.
We catch our breath once the door is closed shut. I lay on the floor of the truck and wipe the sweat from my forehead. There’s silence for a few seconds before I notice we’re down a person. Seems like everyone else figured that out by the way they all look at T-dog. He had the key to un-cuff Merle from the pipe he was joined to.
“What happened?”
I ask T-dog. Remorse fills his face.
“I dropped the damn key.”
The silence is quite loud now. Even if Merle was the world’s biggest piece of shit, it’d be wrong to leave him up there.
“And Glenn?”
“Getting rid of the walkers on his tail.”
Officer Grimes speaks up again, focusing on the empty road.
“You never told me your name.”
I’ve been referring to him by his occupation this whole time.
“Rick. Rick Grimes. How about you?”
“Antonia De La Cruz.”
“Nice to meet you, Antonia.”
His eyes lock on mine through the rearview mirror.
“Nice to meet you too, Rick.”
Masterlist | Next Chapter
God i love those broad shoulders. 🧎🏻♀️
Your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon, gets you wild flowers but mistakes your appreciation for disdain °❀.ೃ࿔*
word count: 0.9k a/n: written at like 3 am so not good at all and not proof-read. This was supposed to be a shorter read... my mind just took unnecessary journeys, kay? lol.
divider by @cursed-carmine
Daryl isn't the typical romantic type. His love language were acts of service and quality time together. Dates for the two of you usually consisted of sitting by a fire where you've hunkered down for the night or hunting for the group. Daryl's most romantic gesture is dressing whatever animal you were able to find while hunting because he knows you'll never get used to the whole ordeal.
One night, he'd catch you talking to the girls in the camp. They were mentioning the most thoughtful thing a partner has ever done for them. The girls all raved about dinners and extravagant gifts they received before all this, but he noticed you weren't offering up any stories. He pretended not to notice the way you drew into yourself after the girls moved on to other topics.
With this in mind, the next time you both were out on a scavenge run or hunting again, he saw you admiring some of the wild flowers around you. He wouldn't mention it; he would just save the fact that you seemed interested in the flowers and finish whatever you were up to.
Later, he grabbed a flashlight and retraced his steps from earlier. He follows his own damn tracks back to the place he saw you fixating on the purple flowers. He picks the best-looking ones, and a small grin appears on his face as he walks back to camp. He hides the flowers in his pack, gently, before he slides in next to you in your shared tent.
In the morning, he finds you on the outskirts of the temporary camp foraging for any herbs or plants that'll be useful for supper. He fixed the flowers up nice before handing them to her with a shy 'here, got 'em for you.'
A smile broke on your face. Cheeks all rosy. You smelled the flowers before placing your hand on his forearm and thanked him. That's all the amount of PDA he could stand. He's not the type to pull back from your touch, but you knew he wasn't big on displays of affection around the others, so a small touch would suffice.
By midday, the others were doing their own thing around camp, while you were sitting on a rock separating the flower head from the stem. You were totally unaware of Daryl being a few feet away from you, watching all this. He was cleaning the grime off his bow. Grime that only builds up from going out to hunt animals or fight walkers. He suddenly didn't care much about the bow. He was more interested in the fact that you were pulling the flowers apart. He had thought you'd like the flowers just fine. You had smiled and thanked him. Instead of sitting in his own misery, he stood up and walked off into the woods.
What Daryl didn't see was the flower heads lying gently on the pages of the book. You made sure the book would hold them just right so they'd dry up and be preserved. When you were done, you closed the book and put it away in your pack without a second thought.
After the farm, they weren't staying in one place for too long. The next morning, the camp was up and at 'em. The place is packed up and ready to leave. Daryl had come into your tent late and gotten up before you had. Rick mentioned Daryl ran off into the woods early and said he'd catch up with the group later in the day.
You were busy looking between the tree line. Scouring for any place for the group to hole up for the night. You had no luck. A few minutes after you give up looking, Daryl pops out of the trees holding a few squirrels he'd hunted. The group keeps walking, but you wait for him to join you on the road.
"Off picking some more flowers for me?"
You nudge him as you joke. His glare immediately denotes his foul mood.
"So you can rip 'em to shreds?"
You almost trip on a rogue rock from being caught off guard by his snarky accusation.
"What are you-"
You cut yourself off mid-sentence when you realize what he is referring to. She had loved the flowers. She was never much of a flower girl before, but flowers from Daryl had much more meaning than if some guy had gotten her flowers before. Which is why she wanted to preserve them.
"You mean the flower heads I carefully separated from the stem to dry them out so I get to keep 'em longer?"
You take off your pack and pull out the old book you picked up while scavenging an abandoned house on your runs. Now it held the drying flowers, but when you had picked it up a while ago, he had called it a waste of time. You opened the book and showed him the flattened purple flowers on the pages. Not dry yet, but getting there. Daryl's expression changed immediately. Now he seemed embarrassed for making a scene more than anything. A small smile appeared on your lips.
“They were a really thoughtful gift. You’re quite a romantic.”
You tease him.
“Shut up.”
He grumbles, his ears red and obvious under the Georgia sun. You giggle at the misunderstanding of the situation before putting the book away, slinging your pack on, and joining him.
✴︎ LACE DIVIDERS
ﾉ Please reblog & credit if you use!
For different colors just send me an ask please!
SUCCULENTS
FOREST
MOON BLUE
OCEAN
PURPLE HAZE
Green Blue Purple
Divider
(TWD SPOILERS. Kind of)
Just got to season 6 finale/season 7. Yeah who let me start this show. Makes me wanna write a short about reader (Daryl’s complicationship) reacting to Daryl being kidnapped by the saviors.
I need Daryl Dixon so bad 😫
Began watching twd and I’ve become somewhat obsessed with Daryl Dixon. In need of fics!!! (I’m on season 4 though 😬 any w no spoilers?)
Restarting rdr2 because I miss Arthur Morgan. 😭
I’m not new to rdr2 at all but I’m currently in the last few missions of my second play through and it has me in shambles. I seriously think somethings wrong with me. I’m grieving Arthur Morgan as if he was real…
Bandits & Blossoms Series
Ⅰ
Bandits & Blossoms: Ⅰ
summary: Mariana de León was born into a life most dream of, yet, she wishes to be free. What will happen when a pair of outlaws come into her life and give her an opportunity of the life she always dreamed of?
pairings: Arthur Morgan x Original Character
a/n: This is a series! It is also being cross-published on wattpad and ao3.
word count: 5.9k
contains: Attempted SA (Not by any of the Van der Linde gang members), Mentions of religion, Mother hits original character, NO AI, May be bad writing but its my bad writing. Oc is 20. Arthur is 26.
divider by me 😋
1889
"Marianna, stop moving."
My mother yanks my hand away from the puff sleeve I pull on. I try to fix the uncooperative fabric on my arm. My mother pins me with a glare, and my hand lowers to my side. We've been in Saint-Denis for all of one day, and my mother already has Adela and me wearing frilly dresses to 'fit in with the women of this society'. It's not new for her to dictate what I do, say, or how I dress, but it certainly doesn't get any easier.
"This dress is uncomfortable."
There's no response other than a slap across my cheek. I yelp when the sharp pain spreads across my cheek. The undoubtedly pink cheek. Of course. The only thing that upsets my mother more than my complaining is the use of my native tongue. Adelita, my younger sister, puts her hand in mine. She gives me a weak smile as the tears that dare to spring in my eyes are blinked away. This will only be worse if I cry.
"We speak English here, Marianna. Don't make me get your father."
I hold my cheek and try to soothe the burning sensation my mother's hand left. I can't answer her, afraid that if I speak, I won't be able to hold back the wavering of my voice. I nod, letting her know that I won't dare speak Spanish for the remainder of our trip. There are a few more weeks before we return to Mexico. I cling to counting the days until we return to my country to maintain my sanity.
Returning to Mexico means I won't be forced to speak English, no more frilly dresses, and best of all, no more useless parties my father throws to get businessmen drunk and talk their ears off about doing business.
There is a knock on the door. I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly. My mother does the same, running her hands gently down the front of her dress. It's not particularly fixing anything, but rather a nervous gesture she makes to feel put together. Adelita mimics the gesture moments after. She's a younger version of my mother, except Adelita is sweet, whereas my mother is harsh.
"This is important to your father and me; do not embarrass us."
My mother speaks in a calm but warning tone. The whole reason we took this trip was so my father could close a deal with investors. My mother calls the person behind the door, announcing they can come in. A guard pops into the doorway and lets us know that the guests are starting to arrive. My mother nods her head and turns to look at Adelita and me.
"On your best behavior, you hear me?"
No words leave my mouth. Too concerned with saying the wrong thing. Adelita and I nod and watch my mother walk towards the door. We follow behind her, our hands clasped together in front of our gowns. My mother always said it made us look more ladylike. We walk down the grand staircase, and the guests pour in through the front door.
Businessmen with expensive-looking suits and equally expensive wives in beautiful gowns walk in. We have done this plenty of times to know how to look our best for our parents' important guests. We put on our best smiles and welcome our guests. My father and Santiago, my younger brother, welcomed the guests at my mother's side. Santiago and my father are very close, so close that tonight they wear matching suits. A habit everyone seems to adore, I see it as my brother falling into the same snobby footsteps as my father. As the heir of the De Leon legacy, Santiago has been conditioned to be like my father. Exactly how my father was raised to be like my grandfather.
"Hello, thank you for coming, we're glad you were able to join us on such short notice."
My father addresses the crowd. I don't focus on the speech he's most likely giving. Instead, I look through the crowds, and I catch the eye of one person in particular. William. My father told me earlier this week that he'd be here. That doesn't stop the shiver that goes down my spine when William sends me a smirk from where he stands. I force myself to look away, attempting to ignore him and begin scouring the crowds once again.
I watch the amusement on the faces of the crowd as they look around the grandly decorated foyer of the estate. Like they wish to be in our shoes. I don't blame them. It's a beautiful house, but I don't think they know just how cruel and corrupted you'd have to be to get here.
It isn't long before my parents are swept up in the crowd. The guests all disperse, some indulge in champagne, the maids have so perfectly put out, and the others slip into conversations of their own. I look around, trying to spot my mother, and come up blank. A slight grin appears on my face, and I take this as an opportunity to slip away. That's the best thing about these kinds of parties. Once the guests arrive, I become utterly invisible to her. For one moment, the constant fear I feel in my chest while she's around dissipates.
I walk over to the ballroom, where couples are dancing to the live band in the corner of the room. The music bounces off the walls. On any other night, I would've been dancing as well, but right now, I only want some quiet. I beeline my way to the door that leads to the kitchen before a hand pulls me back.
"Marianna, you know you're not allowed back there. Mom will be mad again."
Adelita pulls me away from the door. I pull my arm back and turn around to face her. Her tiny face is etched in concern. My heart breaks every time I see the fear she holds towards our parents. I sigh and tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
"I will be alright, Adela. She won't be mad if you don't tell her."
She rolls her eyes and huffs. She's always been a goodie two-shoes. Never one to sneak around and lie to our parents. She doesn't necessarily agree with my mother or father, but she wasn't the one to step out of line or argue. She walks away with her arms crossed. I grin and shake my head. This is a typical interaction between us. She will always try to talk me out of disobeying direct orders, but she will never be the one to rat me out.
On the other hand, I need to be very wary of Santiago. I lift my head to search for my younger brother and find him on the opposite side of the room, preoccupied with a girl around his age. His back is turned to me, presenting me with the perfect opportunity to leave the room.
The kitchen is buzzing when I walk through. Workers come and go. Some carry small appetizers, while others take more champagne. I snake around the workers who look at me and shake their heads. They know as well as I do that I'm not supposed to be back here but I greet them anyway before grabbing a flute of champagne and exiting through the back door into the backyard.
The fresh air on my skin makes me shiver. It's sunny out, though the breeze is cold. The backyard is my favorite part of this estate. It's not like back home, but the white octagon-shaped gazebo makes up for it. I make my way down the concrete stairs. The muffled sounds of the live band and the clacking sound of my heel against the concrete are the only sounds in my ear, fading as I near the gazebo.
I sit on one of the white folding chairs inside the gazebo and listen to the breeze flowing through the leaves on the trees surrounding the backyard. For the first time during this trip, I finally had a bit of peace and quiet. I bring the flute up to my lips and down the gold-colored drink. I savor the sweet taste and set the empty glass on the table beside me.
"Glad to see you again, Ms. De Leon."
I rise out of my seat, alarmed. It's a man's voice. I turn around to face the unidentified voice. Once I get a good look at the man, I know my peace and quiet is long gone. William Cornwall. Standing in front of me is the son of one of the most important men in Saint Denis. He is the son of a very wealthy and respected oil magnate. His father is the reason we made such a journey. My father says that going into business with Mr. Cornwall would open doors for us here in America.
"Mr. Cornwall, it's nice to see you as well."
I muster up my best fake smile. The last time we were this close, he ended up with a bloody nose. In this instance, I wish it had been my mother to catch me here instead of him.
"There is no use for the lie. It is unbecoming of a young lady."
He steps closer. One hand was inside the pocket of his dress pants, while the other held a champagne flute. Mine, on the other hand, stay interlaced in front of me. Keeping my fingers interlaced might help me stop the urge to slap him again.
"Is there a particular reason you came for me?"
I keep that perfectly curated smile on my face. I remind myself I need to play nice until my father convinces his father to do business with him, and that keeps the urge to break the act at bay.
"Well, at first I came for my apology for almost breaking my nose, but I don't believe that will be the case today..."
There is a smirk on his young and clean shaven face that makes my stomach twist.
"Maybe with a little help you'll be more... apologetic."
His words make my stomach drop, and not in a good way. I'm frozen as he steps closer. The glass in his hand is now empty, but I smell the champagne on his breath. It isn't until his hand goes to my waist that I move away.
"Don't touch me."
I feel my stomach roll in repulsion. He tries to pull me back towards him by my elbow, but his drunken state makes it easy for me to shove him away. I walk away from him, hoping he won't come after me. I feel relieved when I look over my shoulder and find him standing in place at the gazebo. I finally reach the concrete stairs and almost trip over how fast I'm going.
I return to the party and try to blend in with the crowd. I stopped to join a group that was tucked away to the side of the room. If they noticed the shallow and rapid way of my breathing, they didn't mention it. My eyes remained glued to the kitchen door, only glancing away when the group of guests put me into the conversation. I try to keep the worry out of my voice as I answer their incessant questions on whether I'm enjoying our stay in Saint Denis or not.
It's not long after that Adela appears by my side and tugs on my arm. I excuse myself and follow her lead as she pulls me away from the group. My eyes furrow when I notice she's trying her best to hide her face from me. We only make it to the doorway of this huge room before I pull on Adelita's arm, forcing her to face me. My heart lurches at the sight.
"What's wrong?"
The clear and perfect face she had about an hour ago is now gone and replaced with red, splotchy skin and red, tear-filled eyes to match.
"They made fun of the way I speak."
My brows knit together in confusion. As my hands go to her shoulders.
"Who?"
Adela brushes the tear that falls before looking over her shoulder. I follow her line of sight and see three girls who look around her age, laughing at Adela. Adelita turns her head and stares at the ground in embarrassment. Rage courses through my veins as I watch the girls walk away with enjoyment on their faces.
"Let's go."
The party ended not long after I slipped away with Adelita to hide out in her room. She only cried for a few minutes while I consoled her after we snuck in here. She's always been the more sensitive one out of all of us. While my parents and Santiago see her being sensitive as a flaw, I realize it's what makes her the best one out of all of us.
My mother interrupts the silence as she opens the door. Adela and I brace ourselves for the mood my mom is certainly in.
"Get ready for dinner, your father has good news."
She walks out of the room, leaving Adela and me slack jawed. Right about now, she would be scornful of us for not attending to our guests. She would say it would be impossible to find us a proper husband if we weren't more ladylike. Adela and I share the same expression as we head to the bedroom door.
"She's not mad? What do you think the good news is?"
I ask her as I open the door that leads to the hallway.
"I hope it's about going back home. I miss Uncle Joaquin."
Adelita speaks up. I nod, agreeing with her. I miss our uncle too. He's a stark contrast to our father. Uncle Joaquin was the one who consoled me when my father reprimanded me after I had given William Cornwall a bloody nose.
I tried to explain the situation to my father, but it was as successful as talking to a wall. My uncle had been there to hold me until my tears dried and my cheek stopped hurting from the slaps I had received as a punishment. I wish he were here to listen and console me about what happened tonight.
"Let's go find out."
We walk down the stairs and head to the dining room. Adelita and I find my father at the head of the table as we walk into the dining room. Santiago and our mother are sitting on the left side of the table, leaving us to sit across from them. The maids stride into the dining room with plates in their hands. Rita, one of the maids I've grown to like, sets my plate in front of me, and I give her a silent thank you. She doesn't answer, but she nods her head in acknowledgment. On cue, I watch my mother send Rita and me a death glare.
"That will be all for now."
My father says as he watches my mother glare at me. He grabs the serviette from the table and lays it on his lap. The rest of the table matches his actions.
The maids file out of the dining room, leaving us in silence. My father joins his hands with Santiago and Adelita, who sit by him. Instinctively, I raise my hands and hold my mother's hand with my left and Adelita's with my right. I watch as my parents close their eyes as my father prepares to say grace. Adelita, Santiago, and I follow by bowing our heads.
"Bless us, O lord, and these thy gifts,"
My father begins.
"We give thanks for the bounty before us, for the strength to lead, and for the wisdom to do what is best for this family."
It's a good thing my head is bowed. No one can see the eye roll I give at my father's words. The scoff in my throat is a little harder to hold back. I look up to see if anyone heard the noise that came from my throat only to be met with my mother's unwavering death glare pinned on me. My face feels hot when I clear my throat as she bows her head again. I do the same.
"And we give thanks for the fruitful partnership with Mr. Cornwall and his family. May this union bring prosperity to both our houses."
My mood lightens at my father's words. I turn to Adelita, who is already grinning beside me. She turns to me to give me a better view of that toothy grin. Mr. Cornwall finally choosing to do business with my father means we no longer have to stay in Saint Denis. There was a lull in my father's prayer before he cleared his throat and continued.
"And may this engagement, between our Marianna and young William, be a holy and prosperous bond, in God's eyes and ours."
My eyes snap up to my father's, and the grin I wore a few moments ago is now wiped off my face. His head is still bowed, so is my mother's. I feel my chest constrict. I feel like the oxygen has been ripped out of my lungs. Of course. My mother knew about this. This is why she didn't make a fuss about Adelita and me running off early. I'm brought back when I feel Adelita squeezing my hand. I tear my eyes away from my father, and her furrowed brows come into view. I squeeze her hand in return to try to let her know I'm okay before I return to look at my father. His head is now lifted, and so is his wineglass.
"Amen-"
I cut him off.
"You didn't tell me..."
My voice is barely audible. I'm in such shock that I don't know how I muster the strength to speak. I drop my hands onto my lap. I shake my head in disbelief. My father finally looks at me and abandons his wineglass on the table with a soft clink. He tilts his head as if what I said is utterly ridiculous.
"I didn't deem it necessary, Marianna."
He speaks calmly as if he were only discussing the weather and not my future. I should have known he wasn't the type of father who was above selling his daughter as if she were mere cattle.
"You arranged for me to be married off to a man whom I've never seemed to have a pleasant exchange with, and you didn't deem it necessary?"
I echo his words. Up until now, the table had fallen silent until my mother spoke up.
"Marianna. You do not talk to your father in that manner."
My mother's sharp voice cuts through the argument. I turn to her, my mouth slightly agape. I scoff. I didn't realize her need to please my father had no bounds. She gives me a warning look, the one she gives me when I should tread lightly on my following words. My father holds up his hand to stop my mother from continuing without sparing her a glance. His piercing gaze was solely on me.
"You speak as though it's a punishment. This is an opportunity. For all of us."
My father leans back on his dining chair, obviously beginning to feel frustrated with the conversation. He rests one of his hands that's balled up into a fist on the table. I try not to let it intimidate me.
"This is only an opportunity for you, and your business..."
My voice rises slightly. My father doesn't lose his cool. He leans in slowly and calmly.
"William is a respectable young man. He's educated, mannered, and catholic."
My father continues as if these qualities will somehow make me fall in love with him. I have been raised to act like a lady, so when the time comes, I will find a husband for myself. I never would have thought my husband would come from a business deal.
"I am not something you can use for your benefit. I am your daughter."
My voice cracks slightly. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I turn away from his gaze to blink them away. Crying will not solve this.
"You are both."
My stomach dropped at his words, and the table was quiet again. Even Santiago had paused, his eyes flicking between me and his plate as if it was him being given up for money.
"You've traded me like I'm some kind of cattle."
My voice is defeated. The fight in me is slowly slipping from me. The realization that this marriage is set in stone is falling over me as the minutes pass.
"I made a future. For this family. For you... Una Casa Firme, Un Alma Pura."
My father sighs and goes back to his plate like this conversations over. As if this is something I should brush off. I look to my mother for any sort of compassion. A semblance of empathy but I should've known better. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are filled with anger. This is a lost cause. I am the future Mrs. Cornwall.
Dinner was hard to get through. After the announcement of my engagement, I lost my appetite. I was only able to force a few bites of food into my mouth. Once it was over and the maids came around to pick up our dishes, I was the first one out of the dining room. I walked up the grand staircase in record time and locked myself in my room.
Now I was tossing and turning in bed. I keep trying to imagine how much my life would change after I marry William, but the thought of that alone makes my stomach churn.
I slam my hands onto the mattress out of frustration and get out of bed. I walk over to the window that lets the moon's glow into the room.
I pace back and forth by the window and get so lost in thinking about William that I almost miss the movement down below. My steps come to a halt, and I lean on the sill of the window to get a better view of the bushes I saw move just a second ago. It could most likely be some animal, a raccoon, maybe? Or a dog who wandered off from his owners? But no, when my eyes adjust to the darkness outside, I see two men. My brows furrow as I watch them survey the house. They don't look like the guards my father keeps around the estate. These men look like intruders.
I back from the window as they lift their heads towards the second floor. I step back until the bed hits the back of my legs, making me lose balance and fall onto the mattress. I sit on the mattress thinking. Mostly, I think about how they got in without guards surrounding them in seconds. A small flicker of hope seeps into my chest.
If it's so easy to get in, how easy would it be to leave?
The smart thing to do would be to alert the guards and wake my father. Let them do what they always do when there are threats against our family. Lock the gates and bring out the rifles.
I should scream. I should run down the hallway, bang on the doors, wake the house, do what I've been told to do. But I don't. I sit still. I'm struggling to find the motivation to move.
I light the candlelight on my bedside table, and my feet move to the door. I open my bedroom door and stride across the hall where my parents lie, sleeping. The instinct to obey, alert, and do what I'm supposed to do, tell someone, be a good daughter, rises to the surface.
I get to their door, and my hand hovers over the doorknob. I have to twist and push to open the door, but something stops me from doing so.
I'm not frozen in fear. I freeze because, for the first time in my life, I'm not sure I want to protect them. I was raised to obey. To speak only when spoken to. To make myself small for the sake of family, business, and appearances. But standing here, staring at the door to their room, I realize I'm tired of protecting people who wouldn't lift a finger to protect me.
What if I don't alert them? What if I let them come in and take what they want?
For one moment, I don't care about what might happen if I let them carry on. I stand there frozen, watching the doorknob, breathing quietly through my nose. I could still knock. I could still play the part. But then another thought comes, quieter and sharper than the rest.
You don't belong to them.
For that reason, I don't knock. I don't retreat to my room. Instead, I walk down the stairs and head to my father's study, quietly. From what I know, my father keeps a revolver in his study, so that's where I'm headed.
The gun will be more for show than for protection. I've never held a gun before, let alone fired it.
Once inside the study, I go straight to the bookshelf. Santiago once told me the revolver is locked in a drawer in Father's desk, and the key is hidden between the books. That's what I'm counting on.
I hold up my candlelight to illuminate the books while I work, and after a few minutes of looking between the books, my fingers graze cold metal. The key. I thank Santiago in my head while I walk over to the desk drawer. I insert the key and twist. I pull the drawer out towards myself. Inside, I find papers. Contracts. Deeds. Letters. I push them to the side and watch as they reveal the gun. I pick it up while setting down the candlelight holder on the desk, and I feel the cold steel in my palms as I practice aiming at nothing. It feels heavier than it looks. I set it down and before I leave the study, I organize the papers in the drawer and shut it before I grab the candlelight holder and head towards the back door, tiptoeing to the kitchen.
Once I know I'm in the clear, I head out the back door and into the cold night. The breeze hits my skin and goosebumps spread over my skin and I regret not wearing anything but my nightgown. I rush down the concrete stairs, watching the floor for any rogue rocks, and sneak over to use the back of the house as my hiding spot. The cold stone wall hits my back as I peek around the corner to the side of the house and keep my eye on the two men.
"Hosea heard from folks in town that these people have money to burn."
I can roughly make out the shapes in the dark. The moon glows, only outlining the profile of their bodies. They don't notice my presence, too deep into their conversation to pay me any mind.
"That kind of money means more guards, Dutch."
The other man says. An accent coats his words. He must not be from around here. He sounds younger than the other man, even with a voice as deep as his.
"Since when do a few guards bother you, Arthur?"
The man's voice, whom I now recognize as Dutch, speaks. The younger man scoffs at Dutch. From here, I can see him shake his head before speaking up again.
"I am just sayin."
"How about just keeping your voice low, boy. After this job, you'll be thanking me."
Dutch scolds the man. I had been right. They're here as nothing but intruders.
The night breeze makes me shiver, goosebumps rising on my skin. I shiver from the breeze and lose grip of the candlelight in my hand.
I hear the harsh clang on the concrete when the metal hits the floor. I pull myself back and wish the stone wall would eat me up as I silently curse at myself for being so clumsy.
Dutch and Arthur have gone silent. I hold the revolver up to my chest when I slowly creep my head around the corner. Their heads are turned in my direction. In fear that they might've seen me, I hide again.
"Who goes there?"
Dutch's voice is quiet, careful not to draw attention to himself and Arthur. I close my eyes. I'm trying to muster up the courage to confront them. I thought this would be easier.
I hear two sets of footsteps approaching. The slight panic gives me the final push to emerge from my hiding spot. I walk out with the revolver pointed at them. Instinctively, the older man, whom I can now see more clearly, lifts his hands in surrender. The man by his side looks confused by the older man's actions, but follows them, nonetheless.
"Well, now there's no need for this, miss... Uh- My name is Featherstone Chambers, and this,"
Dutch nods his head at the younger man by his side.
"Is my associate, Arthur Callahan."
He lies about his name. I don't expect anything less. I tighten my grip around the revolver, and Dutch takes notice of my actions. There is a slight smirk on his face that the dark makes good on hiding. He thinks he can charm and lie his way out of this situation.
"My apologies, I didn't catch your name, Miss?"
He continues after I give him nothing but silence. I almost gave him my real name until I remembered who I'm talking to.
"Alma. Alma Leon."
The raven-haired man nods. If he has any skepticism about the fictitious name, he doesn't show it.
"Well then, Ms. Leon, it was lovely meeting you, and my associate and I sincerely do apologize for the disturbance. We'll leave the premises immediately."
They're turning around, heading back to where they came from. I feel the control slipping from my hands once again. In a desperate act to get them to stop, I pull the hammer back. I'm not going to shoot them, but they don't know that. They stop in their tracks as they hear the click of the hammer.
"I heard you..."
Both men share a look before turning around once again. It's the 'associate' that speaks up now.
"Now, how much of that conversation did you hear?"
He steps closer. In a moment of panic, I step back and hold the gun up higher. Dutch stretches out his hand to stop Arthur from getting any closer.
"I heard enough to know you won't be able to get in alone..."
I should be more reluctant to go against my parents, yet the words come out confidently. By the look they share, I can tell their curiosity has been piqued. Although they still look wary enough that it makes my chest fill with worry that they won't help me escape. I attempt to seem more friendly so I lower the gun.
"You expect us,"
Arthur points to both himself and Dutch.
"To believe you are offerin' to help."
He replies as if the words leave a bad taste in his mouth. I know being out here and making a deal with outlaws I met mere minutes ago isn't very smart. However, there is no other option. This is the only chance I have if I ever want to live the life I want, not the life my parents have planned for me. Alone, I won't make it twenty steps off the estate.
"It's not help. It's business..."
I reply. Guess I am a bit more like my father than I'd like to admit. Arthur's brows furrow as he tries to gauge the validity of my words. His eyes bore into mine, and it takes everything in me not to look away.
His presence alone makes my body shiver in intimidation. Not that the man by his side is any less intimidating, but he did try to talk his way out of this after I caught him, leading me to believe that the older man is the brains. While the man whose hand has migrated to his holster is the muscle. I assume I passed Arthur's test when his hand moves to his belt, his other goes to scratch the scruff on his jaw.
"And what kind of business would that be? If I may ask."
Dutch speaks. He mimics Arthur's stance and hooks his hands on his belt, the belt buckle shining under the moon's glow.
I am about to open my mouth when I hear footsteps making their way toward us. The bushes we stand behind do a good job of hiding us for now, but that doesn't cease the worried expression on the man's face. I know if they get caught, there won't be another chance to escape. As the footsteps get closer, an idea flashes through my mind.
"Meet me by the alley near the tailor shop in town tomorrow, do you know the one?"
I ask them while peeking around the bushes to see a guard walking in our direction. Judging by his expression, he has yet to notice us. I face the intruders who nod, answering my question.
"Okay, meet me at noon. Now, go, I'll distract him."
I hide my fathers gun behind my back as the guard's approaches me. I take a deep breathe in before walking out from behind the bush. The guard startles at my presence a feet away from me.
"Ms. De Leon, what are you doing out of bed?"
The guard asks me. I look over to watch as the men I was just conspiring with are halfway off the property.
"Your father won't be happy to know you're not in your room."
The guard continues. I can give two shits about what he will feel, especially when I can feel my freedom finally within arm's reach.
"I was getting some fresh air... can't sleep,"
I respond. The guard scans my face. From here, I can tell he's not convinced by the story I'm telling him. I try to maintain eye contact with the guard as to not raise any suspicions. He fails to find any irregularities with my response and nods.
"It's best to go back up to your room now. It isn't safe to be roaming around the estate alone at this time of night."
Right... because I might find random men skulking and scheming about.
The thought is loud in my mind, but my lips are shut. I give the guard a small smile before nodding.
"I'll head back now."
The guard nods and turns to get back to his post. I release a sound of relief as he moves further away from me. I move my hand from behind my arm when it's safe and I turn to head back to the house. I make my way through the house quietly. The gun gets returned to its original place just as I had found it before I head upstairs. The quiet sends a sense of relief through me. They didn't notice my brief silence.
When I'm back in my room I walk over to the window. I wince as the floorboards creak but look out the window to find Arthur and Dutch riding off on their horses. Envy of the freedom they must feel to ride off without having someone controlling them rushes through me. I try to rid myself of the unbecoming feeling and walk to my bed. I bury myself under the covers before turning away from the window before I dream of my freedom.
Need a stark!daughter fic that includes her dating Bucky. (Yes I know it’s an overused trope. Don’t care. Still love it.)
Guys not to be a perv but when are the Ryland Grace smut fics dropping? Like I’m waitinggggg. Ever since reading the book and watching the movie I can’t get him out of my head.
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