million dollar man | twd

sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ

[ should've killed him ]
꧁꧂

The first light of dawn crept through the cracks in the curtains, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. Vanessa's eyes fluttered open, but she remained still for a moment, her mind tangled in the haze of her recent nightmares. She pushed herself up with a sigh, slipping out of bed and moving quietly across the room. The house was still asleep, the soft sounds of others' breathing a comforting reminder of normalcy.

She dressed quickly in running gear, tying her sneakers tightly. The early morning air was crisp as she stepped outside, the coolness a sharp contrast to the heat that had clung to her during the night. Vanessa jogged through the quiet streets, her pace steady but unhurried. The rhythmic pounding of her feet on the ground helped to clear her mind, each breath in sync with the steady beat of her heart.

When she returned, her hair was damp with sweat and her cheeks flushed from the exertion. She walked into the house, her steps deliberate but her expression still distant. After a quick shower to wash away the sweat and grime, she changed into comfortable clothes and headed to the area where she had been working on her mural.

The mural was her escape, a canvas stretched across the metal walls of the compound, adorned with vivid colors and swirling patterns. It was a chaotic blend of abstract forms and bright hues, a stark contrast to the grim reality outside its confines. Vanessa lost herself in the act of painting, her brush strokes fluid and focused as she worked. The mural was more than just a project—it was a way for her to channel her emotions, to create something beautiful amid the destruction and violence that had come to define their lives.

As she painted, Daryl watched from a distance, his concern for her growing with each passing day. He approached quietly, careful not to startle her. The colors of the mural seemed to dance in the morning light, a brief respite from the shadows that lingered in Vanessa's mind.

"Hey," Daryl said softly, stopping a few feet away from where she worked. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Vanessa didn't look up from her painting, but she nodded slightly, acknowledging his presence.

"I've been worried about you," Daryl continued. "You haven't talked to anyone since we got back. I know you're going through a lot, but shutting everyone out isn't gonna help."

The brush paused mid-stroke as Vanessa took a deep breath. "Painting helps," she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the brush against the canvas. "It blocks out their screams."

Daryl's face fell, his concern deepening. "Those people that took you and Maggie, what did they do to you?"

Vanessa's shoulders tensed. "They didn't get a chance to do anything," she said suddenly, her voice sharp.

Vanessa's brush moved again, the colors blending seamlessly as she continued to paint. Daryl stood quietly beside her for a moment before turning to leave, giving her space but leaving behind the unspoken promise of support.