(n.) to find healing by the process of forming scars
"tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway."
"why?"
"because nothing about it will change how i feel about you."
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best ranks:
[18: phoebe tonkin]
[18: end of the wor...
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THE NEXT DAY EVERYONE AWOKE AND RAN ON MINUTES OF SLEEP.
Everyone still tried adjusting to the apocalyptic sleep schedule with forgetting they couldn't stay in bed until one in the afternoon. People take their tents down and pack everything into cars. There is discussion about riding arrangements and assigning drivers.
Riley throws her bags into the bag of her truck, after being told to include her truck into the caravan. She was happy she could bring her truck along but would be soon disappointed when they tell her only until they needed fuel for the other cars.
She takes a minute to rest her arms on the guard of the truck bed and slowly close her eyes shut. When just almost when her legs start to give out, an angry voice makes her jump with startle and make her stand tall.
"Shit!"
Riley looks behind her shoulder to see a frustrated Daryl as his eyebrows pinch together when he looks inside of his truck's hood trying to figure out why it wouldn't start. She walks over with curiosity, hoping to be an assistance. The closer she got; the regret came pouring in. Daryl hears her footsteps but doesn't bother to look in her direction. He hoped she would walk by and leave him alone.
"What's going on?" she asks with a shaking voice, placing her hands on the side of the vehicle to peer into the engine.
For a moment, he doesn't speak until he stands up with oil on his hands, "Damn thing won't start."
"Mind if I look?" Riley questions, gesturing to the vehicle.
Daryl nods hesitantly, taking a step back for her to step forward. The woman inspects it with passion as she tries to use her past knowledge. It brings nostalgia from the smell of gasoline to the feeling of metal against her skin. It reminded her of the days when life was simple, a bit livable.
"One of your plugs exploded. We can't fix it since we got no plugs just laying around." she wipes her hands on the jeans of her pants and looks up to Daryl.
"How ya know?" Daryl asks curiously, his tanned arms cross against his chest.
Riley smiles at her answer, "My dad used to teach me, make me learn that I didn't need anyone to help fix a car," she replies.
"Used to be a mechanic then?" Daryl guesses.
"I was a maid at this small little inn in King County." she smiles, showcasing her small dimples.
He looked at her with an unknown feeling he couldn't describe, there were no words for the way he felt. Almost like a train slamming into his chest and when he thought of the feeling longer it made it queasy. Daryl noticed he didn't respond and to prevent any awkwardness he slammed the hood shut.
"Well, this piece of shit ain't got use for me no more."
He looks to the bike that rests nearby, Merle's. It gave him a harsh reminder of what happened to his brother. It didn't sit well with him if he rode it, Daryl was hesitant, and Riley could see it evidently on his face.
