@deathliness is in it for the long haul.
He’d been wandering all day, and well into the night. Daryl had no plans to sleep, not when he was so sure something would jump out at him sooner or later. Something always did. Thieves like that Jesus guy, walkers, even the bad memories had been nipping at his heels. You made it out, little brother. You’re safe now, but I sure ain’t. How many times did ya stab me, again? Merle’s voice never left in moments of silence. He’d wanted his brother back, but now he’d thank whatever God there might be for his brother to give him a moment of peace. You better watch out, baby bro. Watch your back. Those wings sure ain’t gonna take you anywhere your own two feet can’t. I wouldn’t close my eyes if I were you, neither. Daryl raised an arm, rubbing violently at his face, his eyes, trying to erase the images burned into his brain. How long had it been? What day was it? What was the date..? How could he make a proper grave? I guess you didn’t really love yer big bro after all, huh? That hurts. Stop. Stop it.
He willed away the sight of his brother from the darkness of the city, refusing to see him. Not now, not here. And as he turned his gaze, he smelled it. A walker. There was no mistaking that kind of rot, and off in the unfamiliar lighting of the city at night, Daryl saw a shuffling figure. Fists clenched as feet picked up their pace, slamming into the concrete like hammering nails into a coffin. He knew it. He knew it was too good to be true. That there would be walkers here. They were everywhere, of course they’d be here.
And when he was nearly on the walker, Daryl let out a shout, a cry full of every emotion he’d repressed that day. If it turned or not, he’d make it turn. He’d look it in the eye as he tackled it to the ground. It wasn’t an adult before it died, but he didn’t care. It was dead, and it shouldn’t have gotten back up. Merle shouldn’t have gotten back up. It didn’t snarl at him, but Daryl didn’t care. One arm pressed against its throat, eyes full of both fiery rage and watery tears, while the other raised, rock in hand. “You should’a just stayed dead, asshole !” He’d do it like he did then. “You should’a stayed dead !” He wouldn’t stop until it didn’t have a face anymore. “You should’a stayed !” Until it wasn’t real anymore.








