Survivor - TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 19 - Too Far Gone

"Lead me home..."

Lead Me Home

by Jamie N Commons

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Nelly

The car sputters and slows to a stop, the last drops of gas draining away as it rolls to a lifeless halt. Darkness swallows the world around me, the headlights flickering out as I turn the key and pull it from the ignition. Silence falls like a heavy blanket, broken only by the faint rustle of the wind outside. I lean back in the seat, letting my head rest against the cool leather, my mind a dull, aching void.

Numbness sets in quickly, a familiar companion in the aftermath of everything that's happened. The truth settles into my bones, cold and heavy: maybe I'm not meant for this world. Maybe I'm meant to be alone because I always mess it up. It's like the universe has decided I don't belong anywhere.

Rick's voice echoes in my head, his words a relentless loop that gnaws at my insides. He doesn't trust me. Not with Carl, not with Judith, not with anyone. After everything, after all I've done to protect them, he still can't see that I cared. My mind spins in endless circles, churning over what he'll tell the others, what they'll think. 

Will Daryl understand? Will Carl ever look at me the same way again? 

The thought of their faces—especially Daryl's—burns in my chest, a sharp twist of guilt and regret.

Sleep is impossible. The car, stranded in the middle of the empty road, feels like a target, a beacon for anything lurking in the shadows. Every creak, every gust of wind sets my nerves on edge. The dark outside seems to press in closer with each passing hour, the silence suffocating. Without my books, without my sketchbook—without anything to distract me—there's nothing left but the gnawing emptiness inside my head. My mind is a prison of its own, trapping me with thoughts I can't escape.

My body is frozen, too exhausted to move, too wired to sleep. I slump against the car door, staring out into the blackness, waiting for the sun to rise. Dry, slow blinks are the only movement I can muster as the hours drag by. The cold seeps into my skin, my body trembling in the thin tank top I haven't bothered to change out of. When the first faint light of dawn creeps over the horizon, I feel no relief—just the weight of another day ahead.

I force myself to move, my limbs heavy and sluggish from the sleepless night. I push the car door open and step out, the cold morning air biting at my exposed skin. A shiver runs through me, my lips quivering as the breeze cuts through the thin fabric. I sigh, my breath visible in the chilly air, and go to the trunk, retrieving my backpack. The slam of the trunk door echoes in the stillness, a sharp sound in the quiet dawn.

Shoulders sagging, I sling the backpack over one shoulder, the weight pulling me down even further. My body is exhausted, my mind frayed at the edges, but I have no choice but to keep going. The empty road stretches out before me, an endless ribbon of asphalt leading to nowhere. My first order of business is to find new clothes, something warm, something that might make me feel human again. But deep down, I know no amount of clothes can cover the growing emptiness inside me.

I start walking, each step a reminder of how alone I am. The world around me is waking up, but I feel like I'm sinking deeper into the dark, a ghost in a world that has no place for me. I'm an outsider, unwanted, a misfit who can't find a way to belong. And with every step, the weight of that truth presses down on me, crushing what little hope I have left.