The Last Dixon

ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ - 𝙳𝚎𝚋𝚝

Daryl was angrily riding on the back of a horse. Angry at Shane, angry at Rick, angry at the prick that shot his baby sister, and very, very, angry at the world. It seemed that since the world had ended, Ellie had become its own personal punching bag. It was like it saw the good in her, and because of that, she became a target. He was also angry at himself for letting her go, for not throwing her over his shoulder and forcing her to go with him.

Lori rode on the other horse behind a girl named Maggie, and they had left Glenn in charge of making it back to the highway.

"Your dad a doctor?" Daryl shouted over the hooves beating against the ground.

Maggie paused, looking between him and the path ahead of her. "Something like that, yeah."

"Wait, Wait, what do you mean something like that?" Lori asked, worrying even more for her young friend.

"Believe me, he knows what he's doing!" The girl shouted before slowing down as they had arrived.

Daryl didn't even wait for the horse to stop before he jumped off, nearly landing on his face and then scrambling to run into the house. The closer he got, the more oxygen seemingly was being sucked from his lungs. As he stumbled into the room, he realized that there was absolutely nothing that could've ever prepared him for that feeling. It was far different from when he'd seen Merle's mutilated hand in a pool of his blood. This was far worse, because at least Merle was up and running. He'd never seen his sister look so... dead.

His heart dropped into the pits of his stomach as he stood in the doorway, tears welling up in his eyes as he stared at his sisters beaten, battered, and bruised body. He let this happen. His sister was in that make-shift hospital bed because he didn't know how to tell her one simple word; No.

"Are you Daryl?" Hershel asked as he held a pad against Ellie's wound. This was one of several that he had used on her.

Daryl nodded, unable to step into the room. His sisters once beautiful and lively face was now pale, and sunken in.

"Do you know her blood type?"

The brother shifted, nodding before clearing his throat to hoarsely say, "AB—uh—AB-positive."

Hershel sighed, "That's a relief. Get ready, we're going to need a transfusion as soon as possible—Patricia!"

"Wait, Wait, hold on, we don't got the same—"

"Her blood type is special, she can take blood from any blood type, now please, sit in that chair right there."

Daryl could've cried out in joy. He didn't have to be told twice as he rushed to the chair, pushing it closer to the bed. A woman came running in with tubes and needles, and Rick wasn't too far behind her. Daryl couldn't quite comprehend what he was seeing as he was looking over at his sister every other second, terrified that if he looked away for too long, she'd slip away. It seemed that every time she was out of his sight something threatened her life, and once she got out of this, he wasn't going to let it happen again. He didn't care if he had to tie her to his hip.

"You said she can take any blood type?" Rick began rolling his sleeve up, and Daryl's eyebrows furrowed.

"The hell are you still doin' here? We don't need yer help." The hunter glared, attempting to stay out of Hershel's way so that he could prep Ellie for the transfusion.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I-It's my fault, this is my wrong doing, so let me make it right." His eyes never once left Daryl's. "I have a debt to repay, so please, let me repay it."

Daryl didn't budge, his face radiating anger and hatred as he stuck his arm out for Hershel. The old man didn't have time to wait for the two men to come to a conclusion, besides, Daryl seemed pretty adamant anyway. So, Hershel began prepping Daryl's arm as quickly as he could.