A Broken World

Forty-Six

Daryl

Daryl walked in every direction, checking every cell, every door he came across. He was looking for any kind of signs of where yn would have gone. He followed tracks left on the dusty floor hoping they would lead to her.

He finally found a sign laid out on the floor. It was an arrow made of junk pointing towards the stairwell door. She rushed forward, pushing the open and running down the stairs.

“You know I love a chase, Detective! It's just like old times between us! Just this time the dead are walking!”

Daryl crept around the corner on light feet, his knife gripped tightly in his hand. It was hard to see clearly without a flashlight. There were a lot of shadows.  He heard a scream of agony from you, then he heard a gunshot right after to the left of him, panic set in, his heart pounded in his chest. His mind was running a mile a minute. Was that her firing the gun or was it him?

Another gunshot, then another, and another went off one after the other. He slowly made his way towards where he heard the shots, his crossbow raised in front of him. When he rounded the corner into one of the offices he found yn sitting on the ground  slumped against the wall.

Her hand held onto a knife that was protruding from her abdomen. The asshole that had gotten away lay on the floor, blood pooling around him. He went over to make sure he was dead, confirming that he was when he saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

He rushed to yn, kneeling down beside her. “Let me see.” His rough hands came to replace hers. His fingers brushed against her blood covered fingers, pulling them away. Blood flowed around the blade that stuck half-way into her abdomen. “You're gonna be okay.”

“I'm sorry.”

Daryl looked at yn in confusion. Why the hell was she apologizing for? She didn't do anything wrong. “Ain't nothing to be sorry about. We're gonna get ya back and you're gonna be just fine”

Her skin was growing pale from the blood loss. She was sweaty, but she felt cold. Panic really started to set in as Daryl took his flannel shirt off and ripped it into stripes. He started tying them together like he had done when that arrow pierced his side. He wasn't sure it would do anything or help, but he was more thinking on the end of stopping the bleeding as much as possible so he could get her back.

“Yer gonna be fine.”

He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself more. She had to be okay and he would make sure she was.

After we was done tying the makeshift  tourniquet around yn's waist, he lifted her up, wincing at the scream of pain she left out. “I know, ‘m sorry.”

It's a struggle trying to find his way back to the cell block, but he does. He's calling out for anyone who can hear him as soon as he gets to the door to the cell block. Rick, Carol, and T-Dog are running towards him. Rick opens the door as fast as he can, letting Daryk walk in.

“What happened?” He asked, following behind Daryl, who was heading for yn cell she picked to sleep in. He had realized that she was no longer conscious. He laid her down and started panicking even more when he saw she wasn't awake.
Carol pushed past Rick and came up beside Daryl. “What happened?” she asked calmly.

“What the fuck does it look like?! She was stabbed!”

Daryl was so panicked and he already didn't know how to handle his emotions, never did. He would get so overwhelmed and worked up that he just snapped at people.

“Daryl, I need you to calm down and tell me how this happened?”

“That fucking asshole psycho!” He turned to Rick and pointed his finger at him. “This is your fault! You didn't listen to her!” His voice kept rising, getting louder and louder.

“Daryl…”

He cut Rick off, getting in his face, “Nah, I don't wanna hear it! She told ya he needed to be killed! She told you he was dangerous and what he did! You let him get away and refused to go after her when she ran after him. Now look! Look at her, she has a fucking knife sticking out of her! She bleedin’ out!”

Rick kept his head down as he left the cell. At the moment Daryl didn't feel guilty for yelling at Rick. The only thing he cared about was the woman lay on the bed bleeding out. He didn't blame Rick but at this point he would blame anyone who stepped in his way.

Carol was kneeling beside the bed trying to put pressure on the wound, but didn't want to accidentally drive the knife further in. Maggie came rushing in with sheets and bandages, dropping down beside Carol. “We need to take the knife out and stop the bleeding.”

Neither of them knew what they were doing. They only know the basics of what Hershel had taught them. Unfortunately, Hershel wasn't able to help them through this. Carol braced yn's shoulders, putting her weight done in case she woke up while Maggie pulled the knife out of her abdomen.

Daryl paced back and forth, biting the side of his thumb. He didn't know what else to do. T-dog came over and held yn's legs down, And Maggie got ready to pull the knife out, strips of bedsheets close by. She brace one hand on yn's stomach, her other gripping the knife, and pulled it out. She was quick to put pressure on the wounded, letting the knife drop to the floor with a clatter.

The bed sheet Maggie was using quickly turned red and she had to switch it out. Yn's skin was pale from the blood loss and only grew even more pale the longer it took for them to stop it. Eventually, they were able to get the bleeding to slow down enough that they could manage it better.

Daryl had walked out of the cell and went outside to pace. He needed the air. His mind was racing with so many What Ifs and I should've…

What if he didn't get there when he did?

What if she died? What would he do?

He should have ran after you sooner. He should have killed that fucker on the spot.

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she didn't make it. He promised himself that he would protect her no matter what. The moment he saw her at the Quarry Camp, his heart did that thing…the thing where it stopped and sped up at the same time. The feeling was foreign to him; it's been foreign to him for a long time.

He was always so angry with her. He hated her for leaving; for making him fall in love with her and then just disappearing out of his life. He blamed her for everything, even though he knew it wasn't her fault. She was doing her job. That's what he would tell himself. But then Merle would get into his head and he would hate her all over again.

He never meant to fall in love with her. He was older than she was. She graduated high school, while he dropped out in Sophmore year. He came from a pair family and she came from a middle class family. But they were somehow more alike than they were different. She made him a better person, or at least made him want to be a better person.

That one Christmas, the one where he had taken her virginity, where he had felt her skin against his. That was the moment he knew for certain that the feeling he had been feeling for so long was him falling in love with her. It has always been her. He tried to be with other women, but it never felt right. Now he may never have the chance to grow the balls to tell her how he feels.