Self Inflicted

30

I hear the thrashing of the doors and people shouting, Daryl stands against the barn doors keeping unimaginable at bay. Quickly, I run to join him and throw my body against the doors too. Then, others begin to join—more and more of our bodies are fighting against the bodies of the undead snarling and snapping at us. The thunder and rain outside have gotten so loud it's hard to do anything aside from it. 

Storms have a way of doing that, demanding to be heard, and demanding respect from everyone is dismays, just like the dead. But us, right now. We are louder. Maybe not in volume, but in courage and respect. Every one of us uses ourselves and each other, together, to hold the doors shut. Exhausted, grunting, sweating, and an entangled mess. We fight for each other. In the dark, flashes from lightning are the times we can see each other and see the dead peaking. 

-

I'm not sure how much time passes, but slowly the growls disappear and the people do too. I left and waited for Daryl to come back, he was sluggish and exhausted. I sit, leaning against the thin wall of the barn, hidden behind another wall, tucked into this corner. Daryl sits down beside me, eyes and body drained. 

His head leans back against the wall and his eyes are shut but I know he isn't sleeping, he probably won't sleep the rest of the night. "Daryl," I say softly, searching for his blue eyes but instead I get a grunt. 

"We never talked about it, what happened in that house." He doesn't respond so I keep talking, "what did you think?"

"I don't know," he mumbles with open eyes this time that stare blankly at the wall in front of him. 

"Look at me," he doesn't. So again, I do something stupid, I get up and straddle his legs and he looks at me with disbelief and slight fear. "If you tell me, right now, that you never wanted that and never want it again, I will get off you and it will be over," I breathe through tense sentences. He doesn't say a thing, he just stares back at me with an expression I'm not used to. 

So I grab him. I grab his face again and I kiss it, harder this time. His lips are rough and so is his beard but it still is the warmest and most comforting thing I've experienced as they move against each other. Searching for more, searching for answers that neither one of us can give right now. He doesn't hesitate as much this time and his lips move with mine. Once again I feel at home, the truest home I've ever felt. This continues and it takes him awhile but eventually his hands are very loosely resting on my hips, then they move up to my back with more urgency. We don't part lips for awhile, until we sadly finally do. We both huff, just kind of staring at each other, hoping that catching our breath will give us something to say to each other. 

"I'll just hurt you," one of the rawest things he has ever said to me. 

"Then I guess my pain is just self inflicted," I lean down and give him one more small kiss and then crawl off of him, lying on the ground and shutting my eyes to fall asleep. 

-

It's the morning now, so quiet after such a brutal storm. A few are still asleep but we're up and moving for the most part. Daryl is already gone, which doesn't surprise me much, that's normal for him. I put my sword back on my back after climbing to my feet. My ponytail needs redone so I do that and then walk out to everyone else, chatting quietly and Rick is attempting to feed Judith. 

The barn doors creak open and Maggie appears, peaking inside. "Hey, everyone," she steps aside to show a man wearing a flannel shirt and a curious expression. "This is Aaron." Everyone's guns raise and walk forward, I grab my pistol finger hovering beside the trigger, watching. Daryl rushes past the man and outside, to scan the area for any others. "We met him outside, he's by himself." Daryl turns back around and begins patting him down. "We took his weapons and we took his gear."