|| chapter seventeen ౨ৎ

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"DONT FIGHT IT."


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JULIET COULD BARELY STAND ON HER FEET FOR MORE THAN TEN MINUTES, but here she was, standing above Dale's grave—which was right next to Sophia's—she'd left with everyone when Rick finished his eulogy, but then she came right back. She didn't want to leave him all alone, all over again.

Tears streamed down her face none stop, she didn't even need to feel sad for them to come gushing down. 

She was staring at the earth covering him and it still felt unreal. As if his hand would clasp her shoulder in few seconds, he'd flash her a smile and it would all be a stupid joke. But, it wasn't.

She knew it wasn't.

But every bone in her body wanted it to be—no matter how stupid.

Juliet knew grief, it was her best friend now. Her most loyal companion. It never left, but every time it made an appearance—it always got worse, never better. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to that feeling in her stomach, that sick bile coming up her throat, the gasp that never escapes...She'll never get used to it.

Suddenly, a hand clasps her shoulder and for a moment, she freezes—Dale.

But, it wasn't. It couldn't be.

It was Glenn, with Maggie just a few steps behind him.

Juliet," Glenn's voice was soft, breaking the heavy silence of the moment. "We should head back... It's getting cold."

Juliet didn't respond right away, her eyes still locked on the dirt that covered Dale's grave. She nodded absently, her mind somewhere far away, clinging to the last fleeting moments of denial.

Maggie stepped up beside her, gently guiding Juliet with an arm around her back. "We'll come back," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if that was more for Juliet's comfort or her own.

As they made their way back to the farmhouse, the chill in the air began to bite. The weather was getting colder, harsher, and everyone was starting to move inside the house for warmth. But Juliet didn't feel it. She didn't feel much of anything, just the dull ache of loss wrapping around her like a second skin.

When they arrived back at the farmhouse, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the yard. People were bustling around, gathering supplies, moving beds, and trying to create some sense of warmth and comfort in the crowded space.

LUST FOR LIFE ︎ || Daryl DixonWhere stories live. Discover now