Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 54: Grief

I brush aside the curtain as I walk into my office, throwing my mini notebook down next to the larger one. I sit down heavily in my chair, letting my head fall back. If I can keep holding it together, even if it's just until the end of the day, that would be great. I could use a win, even if it's a small one.

I run my hands down my face, rubbing my eyes, then pulling the skin as I move to my temples. I sit up, dragging the chair closer to the table, and look at my notebook. Another deep breath in, then out, and I flip both open.

Zack's name is the only one on yesterday's slot. For today, twelve more. We hadn't even gotten to putting up a cross for Zack, and now...

I touch the pen to the page only to stop, staring at my hand as it trembles. I squint, hard, pressing my lips into a thin line as I try to force it to stop. Like it no longer belongs to me, it continues to shake.

Things get blurry.

I let out a weak, choked sob as I sag forward. I keep picturing cell block D, the walkers with the faces of my community members, people I've eaten with, laughed with, brought into the fold and welcomed with open arms. I keep seeing poor, sweet little Eryn, so pale and so scared, and I hear her mother's sobs as she realized that she would bury both her children in one day.

I bury my face in my arms and let the tears flow.

I feel a rush of air as my curtain moves, then a gentle hand on my arm.

"Hope," Daryl's voice, soft and raspy with concern. "Angel face, hey, look at me."

I let out a wet cough, forcing a breath into my lungs even as he turns me to him. He's half-kneeling at my side, hand on my arm, and my lips tremble as I purse them again.

"Eryn..." I say. "I...I was talking to her yes...yesterday. Carol's reading them Tom S-Sawyer and...and she was so excited to..." I gulp in more air and, in exchange, more tears flow out. "To finish it." I squeeze my eyes shut, hunching forward. "And n-now she's dead, and so's Owen, and Chloe, and e-everyone, and...and I thought I could stay strong and then, and then...those damn pigs—"

Babies. Baby animals, but babies. Sacrificed.

He pulls me into his arms and I sag off the chair, letting him bring me down to the floor as I cry into his shoulder. He hushes me, one hand cradling my head as his other arm surrounds me.

"It's...it's not fair," I weep. "It's just not fair!"

"I know. I know it ain't."

I wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my eyes closed, just trying to focus on the good—the good that Daryl is alive, that he's warm and familiar and strong, that we didn't lose any fences today, and...I don't know, God's brought some little lost sheep back home, and they don't have to be scared anymore.

It feels disingenuous, even in my head. The comfort of heaven doesn't soothe the pain of loss much at all.

"Deep breaths," Daryl murmurs. I take one, let it out, and he nods as he strokes my hair. "Good. You're...you're okay, Hope."

No, I'm not. I'm so far from okay.

Daryl shifts, helping me back to my feet. I sniffle, dragging the heel of my hand over my cheek, and he thumbs away the tears on the other.

"You ain't gotta fill out that thing," he insists.

"I have to make sure no one gets missed," I retort weakly. "Gotta...gotta make sure they all get a marker."

"Let someone else handle it. You ain't gotta do everything."

My head droops, my eyes itchy with sorrow. I feel slightly better, like some of the weight's been lifted after letting out the tears, but only barely. I can keep helping. I'm not the only one saddened by this, and I'm definitely not suffering the most from the losses today.