A Simple Coincidence // Daryl Dixon

28 | A Chat With Friends

Confusion, the inability to think as clearly or quickly as you normally do.

It's ironically confusing.

The idea of our minds being uncertain about something is one of the scariest things to experience. Because in any scary case, when your mind is certain and can think straight, the least you would have is self-trust. But when you can't even trust your own mind to save you, it could literally risk your life.

On the night of day 70, and for the first time in what had been a long time, I felt as if I couldn't trust myself.

The hard wood of the farm porch was starting to hurt my back, but the delightful breeze of the night and the never coming quiet of the open field made me numb to all feelings in my body.

Another nightmare had woke me up, but my wake thoughts had started becoming scarier than those that haunted me in my sleep.

The events of the day with Daryl had made me question everything. Most of all, my feelings towards him. Or what I assumed were feeling toward him.

The thing that confused me was, what those feelings were and what they meant, how they would affect me and what I should have done about them.

Scariest of it all, I recognized myself to be falling into the familiar rabbit hole that I had fallen in only once before Daryl.

Liam

The only man that I had loved in my life.

And the exact one that ruined my entire being.

Thank God ill never see him again. One of the many reasons I love the apocalypse.

As I kept my eyes on the clear sky, I heard the heavy yet calculated footsteps on who I assumed to be Daryl.

What is he doing up and out of bed?

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Daryl's voice disturbed the quiet, making me internally groan.

Did he have to come out and talk to me? I was enjoying myself.

"I'm sleeping. See," I close my eyes and lean back fully throwing my arms on either side of me, laying on the porch like a starfish with my legs hanging off the railing.

I felt Daryl's presence get closer to me as if he were crouching down beside my head.

I laid still until I felt a sting on my forehead that made me jump up.

He slapped me. He hit me. he physically hurt me.

I stood right Infront of him, trying my hardest not to let my emotions break through as I look at him dead in the eyes.

He simply stood there with his arms crossed, staring at me as if daring me to make another move.

I'm overreacting. I know I am. But I can't help it.

The dim light of the sky reflected onto his face giving me a clear view of the little details of his face. His grown-out stumble, the dark circles underneath his eyes, the tiny white scars all around his face, the red recent cut on the left side of his forehead, the dirt that had been unwashed for days.

He was slightly taller than me, not by much, but enough to intimidate me, especially when we were so close, our chests were almost touching, and I could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over my face.

"Your eyes," he said, confused. He had been examining my face, just as I had been doing to his.

Fear crept in me causing me to take a step back and look down.