𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

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NOT EDITED!
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𝚡𝚒𝚒 ; 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙸𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴
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The metal clinging rung out in my room. My blood and adrenaline weren't rushing as much as before, that doesn't excuse the fact that I was still upset. I turned my eyes, averting them once figuring out who stood at the door of my cell. "Why do ye want to leave so bad?"

The redneck asked, leaning against the wall. I was in a calm state, visibly upset, but I was trying to be calm and civil. I shut my eyes, debating with myself if I wanted to answer. "I need to find my sister."

"What if she's dead?"

"Why in the hell would you say that?" I suppressed the urge to beat him. My skin tightened, goosebumps trailing my arms until it reached my core. It made me want to hurl. Who in the right mind who say something like, so I immediately shot my head around, glaring into him deeply, hating his very existence at the moment. No one in the right mind would say something so lackadaisical. "Isn't that what you thought Merle was?" Daryl didn't answer, glaring slightly. "You thought he might've been dead, judging by the way you reacted when you found him. Look now. He's alive, even right after beating Glenn and watching Maggie and I being tortured—"

"Shut the hell up. Ye don' know anything—"

"You don't know anything about me, my sister, Sasha, or Tyreese. So you should take your own advice and kick yourself out of my cell." I twirled my pointer, leaning against the wall shutting my eyes. I wanted out of this place. The people were nice, but I'm determined to stay with people I trusted. I could only really find trust in the two that just left. I also know, no matter what, Tyreese and Sasha would help look for my sister, my Nini. I'm not sure about these people. I opened my one eye, checking if Daryl was still standing there. I huffed out. "Why are you still here?"

"Tell me." Daryl spoke. He crossed his arms over his chest, not elaborating on his words. I raised my eyebrow, questioning him. "Ye said I don' know anythin', so tell me. What should I know?" He was quiet for a little while. Which honestly made me curious as to what was running through his mind. "Tell me about the scars on your back."

I just laughed, leaning my head against the wall. I shook my head, there's no point in answering that. He knew, I knew he knew. So I spoke despite this sounding cold and careless. "I don't need to say anything, because I know yours did too."

Daryl was quiet, not even a single breath escaping his mouth. He flinched at my words. "... yours hit on ye too?"

I shut my eyes, bobbing my head up and down slowly, letting my chest fall. It was quite nice. The depressing topic could've been better, but being able to have this conversation without scratching at each others throats was nice. "Mine too. Every damn day. Even after my mother died, still the sound of his constant beating and his breath that reeked of liquor. My entire damn childhood."