Surviving the Apocalypse

Episode 8

A.N. The moment we've all been dreading... Btw I upped the violence a bit, just to be a bit more realistic. They beat (and did other things) to Glenn and Maggie, and you're telling me they didn't do anything to Daryl before he got put into the ring with Merle? Also fair warning that the Governor is a bit of a yapper.

TW : Torture (oops), brief moment where Daryl reflects on his father's abuse, canon typical violence, Merle, the bitch ass Governor.

There isn't a part to skip, it's literally throughout the entire chapter, but if you aren't comfortable reading, you can skip to the very end of the chapter. I will have a brief recap of the chapter, since it is different from canon.

           Screaming could be heard in the distance through the heavy thumping of a heartbeat. His ears felt as if they had been stuffed with cotton, and his head pounded like the footsteps of his family, as they ran to safety.

Daryl regretted not listening to Rick, not going with his family when he was told to. When his gut was screaming that he was making the wrong choice. He knew better than to choose someone who left him at every chance, over the people that chose him every single time.

He couldn't catch his breath. Not with the bruises on his ribs, or the bloody nose he got for not cooperating. His lungs were inflating so quickly, just to deflate just as fast. Daryl wasn't sure what they would do to him, or why there were so many people around.

Could they see him? Did they know their leader was keeping a sixteen year old captive? Did they care? Did it matter that he was a minor, or was that no longer important now that the world fell? Did it fall, or did the people?

         Entering a small storage space, Rick led the small group into the center of the room. Everyone had their weapons raised, cautiously creeping in.

"This is where you were held?" Rick asked, looking at the women who had led them into the town.

"I was questioned." She responded, keeping her voice quiet and sharp.

"Any idea where else they could be?" Their leader asks, checking through every nook and cranny the room had to offer.

Daryl jogged quietly to the window, where an ugly floral curtain hung. He pulled the fabric to the side, peeking out the glass. There was a group of people walking casually down the road.

"I thought you said there was a curfew?" Daryl asked, turning to glare at the women. It's not that he didn't want to trust her, it was just hard to do so. They didn't know her.

"The street is packed during the day. Those are stragglers." She replied honestly, having no reason to lie. She needed to sneak in just as much as they did.

"If anyone comes in here, we're sitting ducks." Rick interrupted, looking out the small window on the door. "We gotta move."

         A punch in the gut brings Daryl back to reality, causing him to grit his teeth in pain. He can feel the bruises forming on his ribs, his collarbone throbbing from a previous kick. Sweat trickled down the brim of his nose, dripping down onto his jeans.

The man grabbed his hair, yanking his head back to look into his eyes. Brown met blue, and spit flew to land on the man's face. Daryl earned another punch, splitting his cheekbone open.

Daryl groaned, his head falling heavily against his chest. He hated how he could feel the blood oozing out of his injuries. Just as he went to look up, a fist met his temple, knocking him out.