That Valley Girl || Daryl Dixon

[ 028 ] Mixed Feelings

Rick and some others were discussing where our next stop would be. They decided they'd check out the neighborhood, try to find somewhere to stay for the night.

Reagan sat in the back of the red truck. She just couldn't stop thinking about how she screwed everything up— and how much Daryl resented her for it.

Why though? That was her question. She'd never done anything to him. But he just seemed to loathe her presence.

Maybe she'll talk to him.

Maybe she'll try to talk to him about what happened in the grocery store. Surely, he'll understand how utterly terrified she was. Who wouldn't be with three walkers trying to bite them all at once?

While Rick and the others were still talking, Reagan exited the truck and scanned the area, looking for the archer. She found him sitting by his motorcycle, sharpening his knife with a rock— all the way at the end of the groups caravan.

She began walking over to him, he noticed her— but ignored that she was coming towards him. If he acted uninterested, maybe she'd just change her mind and leave him alone.

She kept walking to him though. Daryl could already imagine that godawful voice.

"Hey." She approached him, her hands behind her back. "Um, what happened earlier—"

"Piss off, woman." He interrupted, not looking up from his knife. Reagan's mouth hung open slightly, in disbelief of how rude he continued to be.

"Are you serious?" She was angry now. She was nothing but nice to him, day after day, and he still continued to act like a complete asshole. "I'm over here trying to apologize— which I shouldn't even be doing—"

"Then don't." He cut her off again and examined his knife. "I don't need it."

She shook her head. "Seriously— what is your problem?"

"You're my problem!" He suddenly yelled and sat up from the ground, now getting right in front of her. Her stance shrunk, and she stepped back slightly.

"I'm tired of havin' to save ya! You can't do nothin' for yourself." He spat angrily. Reagan just stared up at him, she was scared of him now. How huge he was compared to her— how loud he was being.

She scoffed, taking another step back. "Sorry that my life's such an inconvenience to yours."

"It is." Daryl also took a step back now. "Always gettin' in my way." He turned around, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Just some spoiled rich bitch who's had everythin' handed to you for your entire life. Now ya can't even learn to handle yourself."

Reagan frowned. "That's not true." She muttered.

"It's not?" He mocked, turning back around to face her.

"It's not." She repeated. She stared right at him. "You know— my parents weren't even— they weren't even born here." Reagan began to rant. "They had to work their asses off to be able to give me everything I had."

She was mad again. Mad that he'd just assume something like that without even knowing her. "So yeah— I have had a lot of stuff just handed to me. But I was grateful for every single bit of it."

Daryl didn't seem to care about her over sharing. He just adjusted his crossbow and walked right past her. "Whatever. Doesn't change nothin'."

She scoffed, shaking her head as she watched him walk back to the group. They must've heard him yelling, because he got some stares as he walked back. Reagan followed shortly after, also getting a few looks.