Unbreakable threads

Chapter Thirty Eight: End of the beginning.

As the group slowly gathered near the RV, weighed down by grief and exhaustion, each person seemed to seek solace in their own way. Hershel, Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy slipped quietly into the farmhouse, their faces pale and drawn. The loss of family, friends, and the sheer brutality of the day hung heavily over them. They needed a moment apart, a chance to mourn in private, to make sense of the sanctuary they'd lost in their hearts.

Dale stayed close to Carol, his gentle presence offering her a semblance of comfort as she continued to weep softly, her face still wet with the tears she couldn't seem to stop. The pain of losing Sophia had hollowed her out, leaving her clinging to Dale like a lifeline, the grief consuming her every breath.

Nearby, T-Dog and Glen sat in silence, their heads bowed as they processed the loss in their own way. They exchanged glances now and then, each understanding the other's sorrow without needing to speak, sharing a quiet solidarity in the face of everything they'd witnessed. The weight of survival pressed down on them, and they knew that this moment of peace, however painful, was something they had to hold onto.

Andrea, seated off to the side, seemed lost in her own thoughts, her gaze fixed somewhere far away, her face closed off. She was haunted, no doubt, by the decisions she'd made, by the words she'd said. Whether she felt regret or resentment, no one could tell; she was an island unto herself, separate from the group she was supposed to be part of.

Across from her, Rick and Shane stood like two opposing forces, tense and bristling with barely contained animosity. The reality of Lori's pregnancy hovered between them like a dark cloud, ready to erupt into yet another argument. The conflict simmered in their eyes, a mixture of unspoken accusations, regrets, and the bitter reality that they couldn't go back to the way things once were.

Alyssa stood on the periphery, feeling awkward and out of place amidst the palpable tension. Her gaze drifted over to Daryl, who was leaning against the RV, his arms crossed, his face closed off, distant. She felt a pull toward him, the one person she trusted in this fractured group, the one who had always been there for her, even when no one else was. She took a tentative step toward him, hoping to find some semblance of comfort in his presence.

But as she approached, Daryl shifted, his gaze flickering over her with a hardness she hadn't seen before. His expression was tight, almost bitter, as if he'd wrapped himself in some invisible armor. Before she could even speak, he turned away slightly, creating a wall between them with his body language.

"What're you lookin' at me for?" he muttered, his voice rough, his tone colder than she'd ever heard from him. "I ain't got nothin' for you. Go find someone else to latch onto."

Alyssa blinked, taken aback, the sting of his words cutting deep. "Daryl, I... I thought we were..." She struggled to find the words, the hurt clear in her eyes. She'd leaned on him, trusted him, even thought of him as family. His sudden cruelty felt like a betrayal she hadn't expected, especially after everything they'd been through together.

Daryl looked away, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. Andrea's earlier words echoed in his mind, the accusation of being a "degenerate" swirling around, feeding into his own insecurities. He'd been fighting these feelings for days, pushing down the nagging thought that maybe he wasn't good enough for anyone, least of all someone like Alyssa, who needed stability, family—things he'd never been able to give.

"You don't need me, Alyssa," he said flatly, his voice rough with forced detachment. "I'm just a screw-up, ain't worth your time. Go be with your family. They're what you need. Not me."

The finality in his words felt like a punch to her chest. Alyssa's eyes filled with a mix of hurt and confusion, her hands clenching at her sides. She opened her mouth to respond, to tell him how much he meant to her, but the look in his eyes was so closed off, so unyielding, that the words died in her throat.