Unlikely - Daryl Dixion

Bargasm

I sat there, frozen next to Sarah, who was drenched in sweat, her face pale and strained. "I—I'm not trying to be a hero," I finally managed, my voice shaky but steady enough as I helped Sarah sit up. "I'm being a friend."

The man holding the gun to my face let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he just heard."A friend? Well, ain't that sweet," he mocked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "This ain't some fairytale, sweetheart. You go pokin' 'round, and you're gonna get yourself killed, friend or not."

He glanced at Daryl, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Ain't that right, little brother?" I turned around to look at him in suprise this fucker was his brother? He sure won the lottery.

Daryl's face hardened, his jaw clenching as he looked from his brother to me. He didn't say anything right away, just gave a curt shake of his head, clearly frustrated with his brother. "Shut up, Merle," Daryl growled, his tone rough but protective.

Daryl knelt beside me, his sharp eyes moving to Sarah, taking in her condition—her skin pale, drenched in sweat, barely hanging on. His gaze hardened, and when he looked back at me, there was something different in his expression—cold, focused.

"You lied," he said, his voice low and accusing.

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You said you were on your own." His words weren't a question; they were a statement.

I opened my mouth to explain, but the weight of his stare made it hard to find the words. "I—" I stammered. "I thought she might be dead." My voice cracked, and I could feel the panic creeping up.

Daryl didn't move, his eyes still locked on mine. "Well, she ain't," he muttered.

I froze, panic washing over me. He's gonna throw me out. He's gonna kick us out, and God knows what's waiting out there. I opened my mouth to apologize, to plead, but before I could say anything, Sarah, barely able to keep herself upright, suddenly pointed a shaky finger at Merle.

"Listen here, you hillbilly-ass bitch!" she slurred, her voice weak but defiant. "If you kill me, my daddy's gonna run you outta this ugly-ass town."

Her words hung in the air, absurd given the situation, and her feeble attempt at intimidation was almost... comical. I couldn't help it. A laugh escaped me, bubbling up out of sheer disbelief. Sarah shot me a sideways glare, clearly annoyed by my reaction.

"If you crack a joke, I swear I'm gonna beat you before we die," she grumbled, her voice dripping with threat.

"Pfff," I snorted, wrapping my arms around her neck in a half-hug, my laughter soft but genuine. "I thought you were dead, fat face."

Sarah gave a weak smirk, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm not. Lucky you."

Even Daryl, standing off to the side, seemed to glance our way with something close to amusement—if only for a second.

Merle threw his head back and let out a loud, barking laugh, clearly amused by Sarah's outburst. "Well, ain't that a hoot!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Your daddy, huh? Gonna run us outta town?" He bent down slightly, looking Sarah dead in the eyes. "Sweetheart, there ain't no town left for him to run us out of."

He glanced over at Daryl, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You hear that, little brother? We got ourselves a pair of comedians here." His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but he seemed to be enjoying the show.

Daryl just gave Merle a hard look, his expression unreadable, but his focus shifted back to Sarah and me, clearly still evaluating what to do next.

Sarah gave Merle a hard look, then shifted her gaze to me, and back to Merle again. Her eyes narrowed as if she was weighing her options. "I'm gonna ignore that you just called me a clown," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And focus on what's important."