The End of a New Beginning // Daryl Dixon

Part 67

Meredith

IT WASN'T REAL. It doesn't feel real. It can't be real. Two of the best people, lying face down, dead, brain matter splattered everywhere. Silent sobs, heavy breathing filled the air. Negan had taken Rick for a ride in the RV. The rest of us were left behind, sitting in the dirt, forced to look at our friends body's lying on the ground like their nothing. None of this can't be real. It just can't. I keep pinching myself, hoping I'll wake up at any second. I keep hoping and wishing that I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal.

Daryl and the others would've been back. I'd run up to him and apologize for what I said, for what I did. We'd make up and maybe we'd be okay again. Being happy...it's not a thing that's in our book. It's not that we don't believe in happiness, we know it's out there. But the things that happen to Daryl and I, that's happened to us, what we've seen, been through. We're so used to dark and twisted shit, we're just always caught in it. Being happy? Forget it. We've settled with being okay. Being okay, that's our happiness.

Maggie would be okay. She'd only have braxton hicks and I order her on strict bedrest. Carol and Morgan would be back, both of them being okay. Eugene wouldn't be beaten the hell up from the Saviors. 

And...Glenn and Abraham would still be with us. The screams that escaped Maggie's lungs wouldn't be echoing in my head. Rosita wouldn't be sobbing silently, staring into nothingness. And Daryl...he wouldn't be feeling the extreme guilt that's weighing down more and more on his chest. 

What we've all lost today, we've all stopped breathing together. We've all watched Negan, who reached down into each and every one of our throats and just take a piece of our souls. And yet, still, he held it right in our faces and just...laughed. He waved those pieces carelessly, laughing and singing like it was nothing. And here we are.

My hands shook and ached from the pain. After Negan had taken Rick, I leaned on my hands, my wrists feeling as if they were going to break. All I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to lay down and close my eyes and sleep, sleep for hours, days even. I could feel my eyes being red and puffy. So, puffy it almost hurt to blink, yet, too painful to keep them open. 

The sound of the RV engine squealing and revving fills my ears. The RV pulls up where it was parked the first time. For a few moments, everything remained quiet. Nothing happened, nobody came out. I knew Negan was demented, dark and twisty and all kinds of...fucked in the head, but I never thought it would get worse. Maybe he would've made Rick do it, maybe he wouldn't have, but he made Carl lie on his stomach and asked Rick to cut his arm off with the ax. I've seen Rick fall apart in many different ways before. But the way he wailed, the way he cried, begged Negan not to make him do it, it was heartbreaking to witness. Negan only wanted one thing out of it...for Rick to change the way he was looking at him. See what I mean by demented? 

"That...is the look I wanted to see." Negan points. He grabs the ax from Rick and stuffs it in his belt, letting out a sigh. "We did it...all of us, together...even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake...that you get it now...that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you...that is over now. Ah." He smiles brightly. "Dwight..." He stomps his foot down and points the bat towards my direction. "load him up." Footsteps approach behind and snatch up Daryl. It all had taken a moment to process. When I finally realized it, I almost found myself falling into complete and utter panic mode.

"No. No, no, no. No, no!" I shout. A rough hand forces me down on the ground. I push back, lifting myself up only to get forced down again, the rough hand planted down on my head to keep me down. I watched as Dwight pushes Daryl into the van, aiming his own crossbow in his face. Daryl moves back and forth, flinching and ducking from the crossbow before the doors slam shut.