The Odd One Out ~A Daryl Dixon X Reader~

Chapter 4

** Mild trigger warning for self harm, my lovelies. Does it happen? What kind? You'll have to see.**

"ITS ALL MY FAULT!!" Daryl held me firmly as I writhed and struggled, lashing out. "Go away! Let me go!!"

"No. (Y/n), we're letting you run away! You'll get eaten!"

"ITS WHAT I DESERVE!" Daryl's bear grip tightened so hard I could hardly breathe.

"CALM DOWN!" Carol thundered. "You don't deserve anything. He told you to go, (y/n)!"

"Because I couldn't get him out!" I wailed, finally stopping my efforts to get away from the Redneck's grip.

Daryl dropped me gently with a grunt. I slid to the ground, sobbing. "I-- I couldn't-- Its all my fault..." my voice hushed to a shaky whisper and I curled up in a ball.

Carol gently lifted me into a hug. "(Y/n), it was wrong of Rick and I to ask you to help him so quickly. He was bitten and he valued both his arms. Sweetheart, he'd rather of died protecting you than anything else."

I had never felt particularly close to T-Dog, just as a good friend, but when he died out hurt.

Because I couldn't save him.

Daryl turned around at a noise and Carol wiped my eyes. Daryl took off into the woods saying, "I'm goin' huntin'."

"He isn't a very emotional person." Carol chuckled softly.

"How does Rick do it?" I whispered, curling close to myself. "How does he hold all this together?'

Carol sat down next to me and gazed up at the sky, where the sun was setting in a ball of orange fire surrounded by pink.

"Because Rick's strong. He does feel loss. He does feel hate. And love. And sadness. But he's strong and cares dearly about every person in this group."

I nodded, and close my stinging eyes. Carol stood up. "I'll Sir how camp is going." And she left with a rustle of leaves. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

\~~~ ~~~/

The moonlight glinted off the sharp blade and I let out a tiny sob. I stared at the blade, trying to will my hands into pressing it into my flesh.

I finally, shakily laid the point to my wrist. I drug lightly down, resulting only in softly scratching my skin.

My skin prickled as if someone was watching me, but I tried again. Only another, tiny scratch.

I lifted up the knife and went to try and plunge it in my arm when a strong, caloused hand gripped my mouth. I let out a tiny scream, which was muffled, and struggled.

The person gently took the knife from my hand and threw it. It embedded itself deep into the bark of a nearby tree.

The person let me go and I wheeled around only to be faced by Daryl. "You ain't gonna use that to hurt yourself." He grunted. "You better not use nothin'." And with that he turned away and, as silently as a shadow, slipped off.

I started at the knife jutting out of the tree.

What?