The Walking Dead {Daryl Dixon}

S2Ch2 "Trauma"

I lay my head on the cushion of the couch. The warmth that comes from the fireplace in the living room makes chills run throughout my body. The temperature is just right, not too hot, just right and the light... like golden hour but inside the house, it was so pretty. There was one of those wind chimes or whatever they're called, it sparkled with the orange light of the fire. Merle is bickering about something – most likely that damned shotgun he found – his words don't reach my ears though. The atmosphere is nice. I'm with someone I care and trust, and I'm safe, yet the damn chills won't go away and my chest feels tight.

Merle looks up from the firearm in his hold to look over his girly. "That's one hell of a sigh there, sweetheart. Ye tired? Want me to give ye a foot rub or somethin'?"

Her eyes close but she remains quiet, aside from her loud breathing that is.

Merle takes the initiative and scoots over to the couch she's resting on. At the shift in weight, he sees her body tense up and a momentary frown. 'So she is awake', he thinks. He places a hand on her temple. She's warm.

Her eyes snap open and she gasps. She jumps forward, away from his touch, chest heaving and with alert eyes.

"It's okay", he says with raised hands, "look around, sweetheart, we're safe. Ye're safe"

Her eyes become glassy and he can see the muscles of her neck tense up as she shakes her head frantically. Her eyes move around as she trembles.

He turns around to see what she's looking at; it is a constant glancing between the entrance to the kitchen and the corridor that leads to the entrance of the house. "There's nothin' out there. Nothing's gonna come inside, sweetheart I-"

"No. No-no-no. No..." she cries. She backs up and stands, stumbling on her feet. She's pacing and struggling to breathe. "I can't-" her gaze is everywhere now, muttering to herself as she looks for a place to run, "I can't... I can't breathe... I can't-"

Merle frowns at her frantic state. She's heaving, sobbing, as tears run down her cheeks. "Mac. MacKenzie, look at me. Look at me, girly, ye need to calm down, okay?" She shakes her head furiously. "Yes. Yes, you do. Yer having one of those attacks aren't ye? Y'know ye need to breathe or it'll get worse."

She's tugging at her hair, crying and gasping for air.

"Calm down and breathe, sweetheart. Breathe, Mac, breathe". Merle approaches her but she steps back and runs off. "Mac! MacKenzie!", he runs after her. When he hears the echo of stomping going up the stairs he runs after her, taking two at a time. "MACKENZIE DO NOT LOCK YOURSELF UP! YE HEAR ME? DON'T YE DARE CLOSE- MACKENZIE OPEN UP THIS DAMN DOOR! Y'know it only makes it worse!"

The sound of gasping coming from inside the bathroom makes him uneasy. The doorknob rattles but it doesn't budge. She really did lock herself up, in the middle of a fucking panic attack or whatever and she still manages to lock herself up. Merle takes a deep breath to calm himself down. 'She's gonna get worse if he continues to yell', he has to remind himself.

"Mac", he knocks this time, "Mac, it's me, good ol' Merle, okay? Now, I can't help ye if ye won't let me in". No answer. "I'm gonna get inside and help ye, okay? It might be rowdy but I'm gonna help ye, so try to calm down"

Air in, air out and a kick to the door later and he was inside the bathroom. It was disheartening seeing his girly curled up in the corner, crying and rocking back and forth with her head in her hands. Merle had a thing with women that cried, actually, with anyone who cried, he just happened to find women far more annoying. Then again, his girly was an exception to many rules.

"Girly?" She whimpered. The thudding sound of her head against the wall over and over had him clenching his jaw. He approached slowly and kneeled by her side. Her muttering was incomprehensible with the crying and gasping, he made a mental note to ask about it later.