𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄, daryl dixon

𝘹. 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴

TEN,
blood, sweat, and tears.

—

"WHAT THE HELL were you thinking?" I asked, lifting his sleeve so I could get a better look at the wound. I started rolling the fabric up until Daryl slapped my hand away. "It just grazed me, I'll be fine." He put on a tough guy face in an attempt to deceive me. I knew this would happen, he was too stubborn to admit he was injured.

"Your bleeding dumbass," I say. "You won't be fine if that gets infected." It was like talking to a wall with him. He saved my life more than once, I needed to at least try helping him out as well. I felt obligated to, even if he said he was fine, I couldn't leave him like this knowing that he got shot because of me.

Once again I reached out in an attempt to see where the bullet penetrated. I just wanted to help, and yet there wasn't much I could do if he wouldn't even let me see it. In retaliation, he swiftly yanked his arm away from my grasp. "Why did you come back, you should have left me behind." He said in a low groggy voice.

"I've been asking you that same question for a longer time, you first." I wasn't expecting an answer, we'd been together only a few days and already I was somewhat able to read him like a book. I sat down next to him, resting my back against the splintery walls. I let out a sigh of defeat, if he didn't want me to look at it there wasn't much I could do but let him bleed out.

We sat in silence, for the most part, his heavy breathing ruined the moment. At this point, blood was everywhere, down his arm, on his shirt, on his hands, and in a puddle on the floor. It was only time before he passed out from blood loss. He was in a weakened state, believe me, losing that much blood isn't the best feeling.

I placed my hand on his arm once more. This time he didn't pull or slap me away, which wasn't what I was expecting. Even in this weakened state of mind, I thought he would at least try to put up a fight. Concerned, I peeked at his pale face to make sure he was still conscious. He was hardly holding on as the blood rapidly oozed out.

I got to work right away. Pulling his sleeve up before I realized that the bullet wound wasn't on his arm, it was on his shoulder. This would complicate things. I knew from the start, the likely chance of him having enough strength to even get his vest off is slim to none, so I had to do it for him. I slid his vest off his shoulders before taking the time to unbutton his shirt.

I knew he had to be hurting so I needed to be careful but I struggled to be gentle with it. He let out pain filled whimpers as the shirt slid off his shoulder. My eyes sat on the hole for a moment. It did just graze him as he said, but it was bleeding uncontrollably. I had no medical supplies on hand so I couldn't treat him right then. First things first, I needed to slow the bleeding.

I stood and made my over to the curtain that draped over the boarded-up windows. I tore a large piece off before returning to his side. Unsure what the hell I was doing, I made it into a bandage like cloth by wrapping it around itself repeatedly. This was going to hurt. Come on, you can't die on me now.

I wrapped the bandage around his arms causing groans of discomfort to escape his lips. I twirled the bandage around his shoulder to the best of my abilities. Not too tight but also not too loose. Once I had finished I was satisfied with my bandage. It was sloppy and uneven at times.

But he was alive. That was all that mattered now. "Hey, stay with me," I called out to him. It was apparent that he was disoriented from all the blood he lost. Great, what was I supposed to do now? My feet left a crimson colored pattern along the wood as I walked. It hadn't been that long since I ate, maybe they still had some plates left somewhere.

"Stay alive," I said. My knife was by my side the whole time, every floor I went to was a new mystery. I looked through the barred windows into the holding cells of the other prisoners. Some sat helplessly in the corner of their rooms just waiting for death to take them away. Their legs are brought up to their chest with their head resting on their lap.

What could they have done to get thrown in here? I figured if I was able to get myself tossed in here then maybe one of the others from the prison managed to as well. Maybe, just maybe someone who knew about medical treatment like Carol or Beth or even Maggy could have wound up in here.

I was inexperienced in this area. Medicine wasn't my specialty, I was more of a forager than a caretaker. But now I had no choice. Daryl was injured and I needed to help him in any way I could. When the Mangburg virus swept through the prison I had to take care of some of the sick people.

It didn't impact me too much besides a light headache and cough, so Hershel would allow me to help whenever he needed assistance. So that is where I learned how to deal with injured and sick people. A shame he had to die. Maybe if he was here now instead of me Daryl would have a fighting chance.