A Broken World

Fifty-Nine

I followed Daryl, Glenn, and the others into the prison, my heart still racing from the tension outside. The walkers were always a threat, but it was the people—the way they could turn on you—that scared me more. I had seen too many good men and women fall to that. I didn’t want to be another casualty of it.

As we entered the gate, I caught a glimpse of Carl, his small face set in that grim expression he always wore these days. It was impossible to look at him without thinking of the world he'd lost and the world he was still trying to hold on to. My heart ached for him. For all of us.

"We're heading out again tomorrow," Glenn said, breaking through my thoughts. He sounded so calm, as if facing death every day was just a routine.

"How many of them are left?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. The tension in the air felt thick enough to choke me.

"Not sure," Glenn answered, his eyes scanning the yard. "A few dozen, maybe more. We’ll find out tomorrow."

I nodded, though the thought of going out there again made my skin crawl. We weren’t just dealing with walkers anymore. There were bigger problems—people like the Governor, and who knew who else.

I caught Daryl’s eye for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the weight on his shoulders. He wasn’t the kind of man who showed fear, but I knew better than anyone that it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. We had all been carrying that burden.

“Guess I’ll go check on the supplies,” I said, breaking the silence. I could feel Daryl’s gaze following me, but I didn’t turn back.

I moved toward the supply room, the walls closing in on me the further I went. It was strange, how this place could feel like home one minute, then feel like a cage the next. The prison was our sanctuary, but the walls also served as a constant reminder of how trapped we all were.

I grabbed a few cans of food and checked the water supply. We didn’t have a lot of time to get everything together for tomorrow’s run, and I wanted to make sure we had enough to get through another stretch. I felt like I was doing something useful, but every time I stopped, every time I thought for even a second, that’s when the doubts crept in.

Was it enough? Was I enough?

The sound of footsteps behind me made me freeze. I didn’t have to look to know it was Daryl.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low.

I turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. He wasn’t asking about the supplies. I could see it in the way he looked at me, like he could read the tension in my body even without me saying a word.

“Yeah,” I lied, my smile strained. “Just thinking about tomorrow. You know how it is.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press me for more. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine for the briefest second. “We’ll get through it. One way or another.”

I swallowed hard. That was what he always said—like it was simple. Like everything could be fixed with a few words. But I knew better.

It was never that simple.

The door to the supply room creaked open, and Glenn poked his head inside. “We’re ready to go, YN,” he said. “You coming?”

I nodded, shoving the doubts and fears to the back of my mind. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

I stepped past Daryl, but he caught my arm before I could walk out. For a moment, I thought he might say something more, but he just looked at me, his eyes softening.

“Be careful out there,” he said, his voice steady but full of something I couldn’t quite name.

“I will,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be right behind you.”

But as I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change. That we were about to walk into something even worse than before.

And this time, we might not make it out unscathed.

The air inside the prison felt heavier that night, like the walls themselves were suffocating us. The others had gathered in the common area, discussing the run in hushed voices. I sat on the edge of one of the tables, absentmindedly twisting the strap of my knife holster as I listened.

Rick was pacing, his face lined with exhaustion. “We go in fast. Get what we need and get out. No unnecessary risks.”

Glenn nodded. “The Governor knows we’re out there. If he’s planning something, he won’t wait long.”

The mention of Woodbury sent a chill through me. Andrea had warned us, but how much could we really trust her? She had been living under that man’s roof for months, blinded by whatever version of the truth he had fed her. I wanted to believe she had come back to us, but doubt still gnawed at the edges of my mind.

Daryl stood against the far wall, arms crossed, watching Rick carefully. His silence was a choice—one that spoke louder than words. He was always like that before a fight, observing, waiting. He caught my gaze for a second, his blue eyes sharp with something unspoken.

I looked away first.

“We should all get some rest,” Hershel said finally, his voice a gentle but firm command. “We’re going to need it.”

Rick gave a stiff nod, and just like that, the meeting was over.

Later that night, I sat on my cot, sharpening my knife out of habit more than necessity. The rhythmic sound of the blade against the whetstone filled the quiet cell, but my mind was miles away.

The door creaked slightly, and I knew who it was before I even looked up.

Daryl lingered in the doorway, shifting his weight. “You ain’t sleeping.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Neither are you.”

He huffed, stepping inside. He didn’t sit, just leaned against the cold concrete wall, arms still crossed. “Got a bad feelin’ about this run.”

I let out a slow breath, setting the knife aside. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of everything—Woodbury, the Governor, the constant fear that tomorrow might be the day we don’t come back—settled between us.

“You think Andrea was tellin’ the truth?” he asked finally.

I hesitated. “I think she believes she was.”

Daryl’s jaw ticked. He wasn’t convinced.

Neither was I.

“Whatever happens, we stick together,” he said after a long pause, his voice lower now. More certain.

I met his eyes. “Yeah. We do.”

And even though I knew the morning would bring blood and fire, for just that moment, I believed it.

The sun was barely peeking over the treetops as we rolled out in the trucks. I sat in the back, gripping my rifle tightly as the prison disappeared behind us. The ride was tense, silent. Even Glenn, who usually filled the quiet with plans and strategies, just kept his eyes on the road.

We all knew this wasn’t going to be a simple supply run.

Daryl sat beside me, his crossbow resting on his lap. His leg bounced slightly, the only sign of nerves he’d ever let show. I reached over, resting a hand on his knee just for a second. He stilled instantly.

He didn’t say anything, but I didn’t need him to.

We both knew—this was just the beginning.