One way or another [Daryl Dixon]

[35] NUMB, UNTIL YOU.

"She wore a troubled past, like wings. She had been through hell,
And though no one could see her demons, They could see the face that conquered them."
-Atticus

Joe didn't have to speak.

I realized what I'd gotten myself into as soon as I saw Rick and Michonne being held at gunpoint.

Two men charged over to me, each step more strong than the last, moving with meaning as rage coursed through their veins, most likely poisoning every thought they had.

For the first time since I was a teen, I went utterly blank and had no idea what to do. I'd admitted a lot of crap in my life, but I'd never had to cope with an outcome that could potentially result in me returning as a walker.

I just about heard Rick shout. "You leave her be!" Along with Daryl being tackled to the floor.

"Fuck." I muttered.

My vision was all blurred and the metallic taste of blood was the only thing I knew as it quickly coated my tongue from were I had bit my cheek from the harsh impact.

One of the men delivered a brutal punch to the side of my face, he didn't hold back. It reminded me of the one Len had received hours before.

When the entire world returned to me. One of the group members was securely holding my hands behind my back to limit any movement, while the other removed both of my throwing knives as well as my dagger.

The throwing knives were tossed to the floor without a second thought, but he kept a tight and solid grasp on my dagger. He smiled at me and gazed down at my blade again, as if it were the missing piece of his damaged, messed-up puzzle.

Joe didn't move an Inch from Rick at all, his gun was still aimed at Rick's head, ready to kill him in an instant.

When I told them about Frank, I imagined at least some of the attention coming off of both Rick and Michonne, at least then it might've gave them an opportunity to fight back. We could have had a chance to get out of this, instead I'd just got myself in a whole lot of shit.

Joe raised a single hand and looked at the two men who were holding Daryl down. The archer never moved his gaze away from me; the look he gave me was enough to bring me to tears.

He looked afraid; normally, he's like a closed book in a restricted section of a library, but right now, every emotion he was feeling was visible on his face.

Fear.

But I knew Daryl better than that; he was terrified for Rick, Michonne, Carl, and my life, not his own.