Angel Wings || Daryl Dixon Love Story ||

Surviving But Dying

My eyes fluttered open even though darkness still covered my vision. Shit. I was hoping it was all just a usually nightmare of mine, like nothing ever happened. They dead were walking and my wedding with Daryl Dixon broke out into hell.

I was now placed on a chair, my ankles hugging each other with a rope tightly wrapped around my legs. Only my left arm was tied to the chair while my broken right arm was free. It felt numb though, I couldn't even wiggle my fingers under my sturdy cast. Someone must have numbed it.

My feet started to move, as I tried to free myself from my prison. It would be a lot more helpful if the rotten bag was off of my head. Despite the fact I was going no where with my escape, I was trying to think of something.

Just then the door opened. Footsteps hit the hard floor, the rustling of people heading towards me. They got closer, closer and closer. My heart began racing as I heard nothing but a breath escaped someone's mouth. Or something.

I began to wrestle with the rope again. I didn't want to be gutted. From the sound of it, there were probably walkers set in to kill me. This isn't how I wanted to die.

A whimper escapes my breath. I bite my lip, hoping my screams don't drawn anymore. I then feel a nudge, a kick at my right leg.

"Calm yourself."A deep voice booms. "You awake, girl?"

I sit there in silence, scared to answer the man. I felt a sharp kick on my other side, my leg now throbbing with pain.

"Well, are ya?!" Another man's voice yells.

"Calvin!" the first voice snaps. His voice then soothes. "Darling, you awake?"

"Don't call me that." I growl.

The bag then lifts up, the light pouring into my eyes. It's a small warehouse I'm in. Dried blood smears the walls and floor, the scent of walkers fills the air. It was similar to the Governor's torture room, the same place Andrea lost her life in. I shivered as I feared for my life. Whitney and Daryl's too.

"Holy shit, you're that girl Noah wanted." Calvin mused.

"Where are they!?" I demand.

"What? That redneck and little sexy thang?" Calvin smirked.

"You fucker, that's my little sister!" I roar. "Go to hell!"

Calvin smirked again, his pink lips curling up. He was a pale man with a scraggily dark brown and gray beard. The top of his head was completely bare, the light reflecting off it. He was a big, tall man, one that could easily take me down. He wore a big tshirt and khakis, both bigger than he was. On his right side, a gun was bulging out of his buckle.

The other man, one who's name had not been said was a similar size African-america man, who reminded me of Tyreese. He wore a tank top to show his rippling muscles, his right arm clutching onto a hatchet. My hatchet.

"Watch it, Calvin." He snarled.

Calvin's face scrunched up. "Fuck off, Ivan."

"What are you doing with my hatchet?" I growled.

Calvin looked at Ivan. "Let's get the boss man."

Calvin lead the charge, storming out of the room almost immediately. Ivan, on the other hand, walked at a slower

pace. He turned to me, his eyes meeting mine.

"Hey." he throws my hatchet right onto the table. He put his finger to his lips. "Just our secret."

He walks out, quietly closing the door. I sit there in silence, my eyes darting back and fourth between the door and my hatchet. Did he want me to escape? Because if he did, he was making it extremely hard for me.