NOT EDITED!
༒𝚒𝚟; 𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙿 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙻 𝙼𝚈 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽
༒Anka applied more pressure to her wound while she fell on the ground. All her strength going into the one arm. I mean, she couldn't even stand up? Ankas body was lifted up, she could feel someone remove the leather jacket. She started hyperventilating more when she felt someone start to unbutton her shirt. Anka wasn't in the right state of mind. Both when she's fully conscious and half. The feeling of someone removed the green plaid buttons as an all to familiar feeling. A feeling she want d to forget.
Anka screamed. She screamed like she did every night that man forced himself on her. With the arm pressed down against her stomach she swung her free hand out to the man. All she could see was him. The governor hovering over her. Her face went pale, her body shook, but she never cried. "Damn women! Stop moving!"
Anka let out a loud sob, but not a single tears fell from her eyes. Anka curled herself into a ball, prying the mans hands away. She shook. She trembled like a baby dear. All everyone could do was watch. They could only watch as she relived all those moments again by the unbuttoning of her shirt. Anka covered her exposed chest with her knees. Staring at the ground before completely passing out.
Daryl didn't know what to do. Watching her act like that, this was a serious case of PTSD. That man took her and crushed her every being. Daryl sighed, continued to unbutton the rest of her shirt while she was unconscious. Daryl looked towards the locked doors. Michonne stood there, watching someone she labeled as a sister go crazy. Daryl continued to glance back at Anka. His heart racing for this complete stranger. He took a look at the stab wounds bandage. It was soaked to the rim with blood. He waved his hand over to Hershel, waving him over. "We still gatta change 'er bandaging', this was placed on her before we even arrived. Did ye find that shit yet?"
Hershel nodded, revealing the bag behind him, Daryl nodded his head. Anka slowly opened her eyes after the five minutes nap. She was started to turn red with a fever. Anka tried gasping into anything. Her hand clutching onto the prison seat, her other hand grasping onto Daryls exposed forearm. Hershel pulled out rubbing alcohol, knew bandages. "You're going to have to hold her. She can't be squirming. We're also gonna have to sew her shut."
Daryl nodded her head, pulling the almost lifeless girl away from the table and pressed her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, while pinning her own arms against her body. She tries to squirm away from him, but she could barely move. Instead she laid there, looking up the the ceiling and resting her head against Daryls shoulder. Daryl stiffened. She was really close, her body and her face. He pushed those thoughts aside when Hersel pulled of the tapped dressing. He looked at the wound carefully. A long sigh filling his mouth. "This is going to take a while. She wasn't cut my a knife, there's glad shards in her wound."
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𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧
Fanfiction"We have to come to terms with what we are. We fight the dead, we fear the living, because in the end, we're all just a dead man walking." ~ REPUBLISHING!! 「t.walkingdead Daryl Dixon ff between S3+ WARNING: Gore, Death...