As the echoes of the walker's collapse faded into the eerie silence, Maren and Daryl quickly cleared the neighborhood, moving with a practiced efficiency honed by the harsh realities of the new world. The streets were deathly quiet, save for the occasional rustling of the wind through the overgrown yards.
Finally, Maren's gaze landed on a familiar sight - her childhood home, the weathered facade still recognizable despite the many long months that had passed.
She could hardly believe she was really here, that everything she'd endured since leaving her door room had brought her to this very doorstep and had led her back to this very moment. Her heart raced as she stared at the familiar structure, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her.
"This it?" Daryl asked, his voice low and gruff. Maren's reply was a stunned silence, her voice caught in her throat as she nodded slowly.
"Yeah," she finally managed, the single word laced with a mixture of trepidation and longing, a hazy state of shock still evident on her face, "Sorry, it's just...a lot." Daryl nodded understandingly, his keen eyes sweeping over the house.
"How long's it been?" he asked, the unspoken question hanging in the air.
Maren paused, swallowing hard, "Since...the Christmas before." The admission made her heart pang with sadness and guilt. Why had she let so much time slip away? Why hadn't she made a bigger effort to return home? She felt insurmountably guilty.
"Well, I guess there's no time like the present," Maren said, her voice steadier now as she pushed open the creaky front gate. With their weapons raised and at the ready, she and Daryl approached the familiar front door, the worn wood and peeling paint a bittersweet reminder of simpler times.
Maren hesitated for the briefest of moments before turning the knob and stepping inside, Daryl close behind her. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, and Maren's heart sank as she took in the state of the once-vibrant home. Furniture lay overturned, trinkets and photos scattered haphazardly across the floors. It was clear the house had been ransacked, likely in the frantic early days of the outbreak.
Methodically, they moved from room to room, clearing each space with practiced precision. The kitchen was a mess of broken dishes and spilled canned goods, the living room in a state of utter disarray. But as they approached the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Maren felt a chill run down her spine - the door to her parent's room was firmly closed, untouched by the chaos that had consumed the rest of the house.
Maren froze at her place in front of the door, her face reflecting her hesitation. Maren's feet felt rooted to the spot as she stared at the closed door, her heart pounding in her chest. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as she steeled herself for what lay beyond.
Daryl, ever the pragmatist, moved forward without hesitation, "I got the door," he said, his voice low and steady, "Be ready."
Maren tightened her grip on her weapon, her finger poised on the trigger as Daryl grasped the knob. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open, revealing the scene within.
Maren's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in stunned disbelief. There, tied to the bed, was the unmistakable form of her mother - a walker, her once-vibrant features now sunken and lifeless, her skin a sickly gray. Maren felt a wave of nausea wash over her, her heart shattering at the sight of the once-familiar face contorted in a gruesome snarl.
"Mom..." The single word tumbled from her lips, her voice cracking with raw emotion. Maren's voice cracked and broke, as she began to sob at the sight of her Mom fighting the restraints and snarling at her. Daryl stood back by the door, taking in everything with a watchful eyes. Daryl remained silent, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before them. As Maren sank to the floor, her body wracked with anguished sobs, he quickly rushed to her side, enveloping her in a firm embrace.
"She's gone, Daryl..." Maren choked out, her tears soaking into the worn fabric of Daryl's jacket.
"Shh...it's okay," he murmured, his calloused hand stroking her hair in a soothing gesture, "I gotcha." Maren clung to him, her fingers trembling as she fought to regain her composure. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled away, her eyes red-rimmed but resolute. Daryl spoke calm words to her as she let out heart wrenching sobs. He felt his heart break for her, seeing her in so much pain.
After a while, he moved to grab his knife. Maren, knowing what he was doing, she stopped him, "No," she said, her voice surprisingly steady as she took Daryl's knife from his hand, "It should be me."
Daryl opened his mouth to protest, but Maren silenced him with a shake of her head.
"I know you can," she said as she sniffled, wiping away her tears as her gaze went flickering back to the walker that had once been her mother, "But this...I have to do this. For her. I can't leave her like this."
With a deep, steadying breath, Maren approached the bed, her heart aching with every step. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked upon the once-vibrant woman, now reduced to a mere shell of her former self. Steeling her resolve, Maren raised the knife, her hand trembling slightly as she brought it down, finally granting her mother the peace she deserved.
The silence that followed was deafening, save for the faint sound of Maren's quiet sniffles. Daryl remained at her side, a silent pillar of support as she mourned the loss of the one person who had meant the world to her.
- TOO FAR GONE -
YOU ARE READING
Too Far Gone // D. Dixon
Fiksi Penggemar"We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive, but we can still come back. We're not too far gone." Maren Smith has been on her own for a long time, even before the dead started to walk. Maren spent many daunting months fighting her w...
