Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

BROKEN OPEN

Daryl's POV

The back of the van was a hellish echo chamber of despair. My thoughts were a tangled mess as I sat there, feeling the cold metal walls pressing in on me. The images of the lineup kept replaying in my mind: Abraham's defiance, Maggie's fear, Kennedy's blood-streaked face. I had failed them. Failed to protect them. And now, Maggie was dead because of me.

I could feel every jolt and bump of the van as it rumbled down the road, the ache in my shoulder a constant reminder of my failure. The wound on my shoulder ached, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment in my mind. Maggie's last moments, the horror etched on everyone's faces, and Kennedy's voice calling out to me, all haunted me.

I thought of Glenn. What must he be going through? Seeing Maggie like that, unable to do anything to save her. I had promised to protect them all, and now... now it was all shattered. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Negan's taunting words echoed in my ears, his laugh, the sick satisfaction he took in breaking us.

The van finally came to a halt, and the doors swung open. Harsh light flooded in, momentarily blinding me. Rough hands grabbed me, pulling me out and shoving me forward. The air was different here, thicker, filled with a mix of decay and industry. This was the Sanctuary, Negan's stronghold.

They marched me through dark hallways, the smell of oil and sweat overwhelming. I was pushed into a small, dark cell, the door clanging shut behind me. They stripped me of my clothes, the cold air biting into my skin. I stood there, exposed and vulnerable, the weight of my guilt and despair pressing down on me.

A man in a white coat appeared, the harsh light reflecting off his glasses. He moved with a clinical detachment, bandaging my wounded shoulder. His touch was impersonal and efficient, but it did little to soothe the pain. I tried to focus on anything other than the guilt gnawing at my insides, but it was impossible.

"You'll be fine," the doctor said, his voice devoid of any real concern. "Just need to keep it clean."

I didn't respond, couldn't find the words even if I wanted to. He finished his work and left, the cell door slamming shut with a finality that echoed in my bones. The darkness closed in, and the only sound was my ragged breathing.

Alone in the pitch black, the weight of my actions crushed me. Every decision, every mistake replayed in my mind. I should have killed Dwight when I had the chance. I should have done something more to stop Negan. Instead, I had watched helplessly as he murdered Maggie, as he taunted us all.

I sat down on the cold, hard floor, my back against the rough wall. The darkness was suffocating, a physical presence pressing in on me. I could still see Kennedy's eyes, filled with fear and pain, staring at me. I had promised to protect her, to keep her and our baby safe, and I had failed.

Tears finally came, silent and bitter, rolling down my cheeks. I didn't bother to wipe them away. The darkness swallowed them, just as it had swallowed my hope. The pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. The guilt was a living thing, a constant reminder of my failure.

The cell was cold and unyielding, much like the reality I now faced. I was Negan's prisoner, stripped of my freedom and dignity. The darkness seemed endless, but I knew that out there, beyond these walls, Kennedy was waiting for me. I had to survive; I had to find a way to make things right. But for now, all I could do was endure the darkness and the weight of my guilt, hoping that somehow, someday, I could atone for my failures.

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Kennedy's POV

Arriving back at Alexandria felt like stepping into a world that no longer made sense. The gates creaked open, and the familiar surroundings seemed almost foreign in the aftermath of the lineup. The weight of loss hung heavy in the air, suffocating and unrelenting. Glenn's face was a mask of grief, and the sight of him broke my heart all over again. He had lost not just his wife, but their unborn child too.