"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...
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𝚍𝚟𝚎 ; 𝚅𝙸𝚁𝚄𝚂 ༒
The amount of heads Anka had to puncture left a heavy scar on her heart. It felt like she plunged a sword in her own heart. The empty body's that were left with nothing but non functioning organs. She lifted her head from the chest of a child, moving her hand away from their throat, finding no pulse. She looked up at Hershel as she shook her head, pulling out her butterfly knife and pushing it through the side of the girls skull. Anka stood up from her chair, looking at Hershel and back at the body. She couldn't breath, Ankas heart was pounding heavily, causing her to pant. "I'm— I need a break."
Anka stepped out of the room, clenching the clothes around her chest, trying to calm her heart. Laughter exploded from behind her, already knowing who or what it was. Anka closed her eyes. "You can't even keep everyone safe from a flu, how do you expect to save everyone? It's as I said, you kill people. It's not to late to end it—"
"Shut the hell up, Philip." She groaned put, clutching on tightly to the wall, sweat pouring from her forehead as her eyes begin to blur slightly. She coughed into her forearm. Her movements then stopped. Her heart racing even more then before. Is this it? The Philip hallucination begins laughing more loudly. Anka turned her head, staring at him.
"Look now you have it too. It's too bad I can't actually see you suffer before you die. Just like how you made my daughter suffer—"
"I'm not going to die!" Anka yelled, glaring at him from down the hall. From raising her voice, she could feel her throat straining. Itching at her flesh, a cough pushing past her lips.
"You better not." Daryl commented, stepping into the hallways. He glanced around, trying to find whoever Anka was talking to, only to the find emptiness. "Who're you taking to?"
"No one." Anka shook her head, standing up straight, leaning one hand against the wall.
"Don't do this shit now, Anka. I told ye yesterday, I'm done playin' games—" Daryl growled, walking closer towards her. Anka shook her head, placing her hands up. She walked backwards as he kept approaching her. She covered her mouth with her arm, not wanting to breath around him.
"Stop! Don't come any closer!"
"You stop!" Daryl shouted, continuing his strut despite you called out to him to stop. Daryls anger raised once again because of you distancing yourself. It made him even more angry that you were even trying to physically distance yourself. "Ye've been ignoring me for months, we need to talk—"
"Daryl stop! I'm serious!" Anka yelled out, placing her hands in front of her. She helped them there as if that stopped him from walking. It wasn't her actions, it was more of her words that made him freeze. Daryls anger subsided as it turned to worry. He asked her about herself, but Anka shook her head, lying to his face. "I'm fine, just don't come closer!"
