Survival - Daryl Dixon Fanfic

family.

Blood, it was everywhere. I sharpely inhaled, grasping my hand inspecting the cut I had received. Slowly, I brought my finger to my lips, licking the blood as it poured on instinct. I couldn't tell if the metallic taste of blood was good or absolutely disgusting. The taste reminds me of when a kid Toby pushed me over in elementary and i bust my lip... I couldn't get the taste of blood out my mouth for a week.

Pulling my finger out my mouth, I was met with the smallest cut. "God dammit, all that blood for you little guy..." I smirked while staring intently at the cut, before wincing at a sharp pain. "You still hurt like a bitch!" removing my fingers from touching the minuscule cut. Suddenly, I heard whimpering... this time it wasn't from me.

Leaving the kitchen sink, I rushed to the front of my house... swinging the front door wide open. I was met with a horror scene. Was I dreaming? Was this real? Rushing down the steps, I launched myself at the figure who was hunched over another. As I grew closer to the figure... everything went black.

All I could see was red. Red walls. Red floors. Red hands... my hands. Stained with blood. Everything... stained. In. blood.

I screamed, launching myself up from the bed. Panting hard as I tried to calm myself from the nightmare, thankful that it wasn't real. I was drenched in sweat, all from fear. Nightmares were not so surprising for me. I have had them ever since I was a little girl. Only one main thing being a common recurrence, blood.

Every night, my gran would sit at the foot of my bed... ready to restrain me. Yes, restrain. It isn't like a normal nightmare... every single one of them is so distinctive and when i see the blood, it paralyses me. It reminds me of-

"Ya good?" a strong southern accent sounded into the caravan, bringing me out of my thoughts. It was Daryl. I gave him a small smile. before standing from the sofa I was lying on, meeting his steel blue eyes. I could tell he felt awkward from constant shuffling between footing in one spot.

"Sure, i just had a bad dream...that's all" i responded quietly, looking around the area. Something tells me Daryl Dixon does not like vulnerable feelings or situations. I mean, he doesn't look like the type of person to drop everything to comfort someone. My point was proved by his response, a grunt. This man does not know any vocabulary other than grunting.

I watched as he walked away, I watched him. A group of squirrels draped over his shoulder on a string, PETA would have idled this man. Mother of squirrels... Daryl Targaryen. I chuckled to myself at the thought of him in a platinum blonde wig.

"Ah! You are awake. Do you mind helping me with the RV?" Dale asked me. I nodded following him outside.

I liked Dale. last night, he let me sleep within HIS RV. Even after I insisted on just taking a sleeping bag and laying outside near the fire. He would not hear any of it. I was practically forced onto the sofa bed. I am so thankful to be honest. I hate camping. Always have. Especially now... it's not just bugs you have to worry about biting you, it is the rotters. A young boy called Glenn offered to share with him in his tent. It was a kind offer, I was going to accept but then I saw the space he had left in the tent. Glenn could just say fit himself in his tent.

It was quiet in the camp. Usually, I would have found peace comforting but in the world now... silence is alarming. Where was everyone? I looked around confused. They weren't down at the quarry. When someone is down there, you can hear them. This place echos. There was no place to hide or stay quiet...other than the woods. I doubt they have all gone together.

"Some went to the city, we are running low on supplies." Dale informed me. Clearly sensing my confusion. My mouth formed a 'o', as I walked closer to him. "This stupid old engine keeps running out of water, I believe it is leaking, want to help me?" he asked, giving me a warm smile.