Always (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 - It's Only Just The Beginning

One Week Later

"Night Bree."

I look up from wiping the table in front of me and see Marcus the cook walking out with his apron over his shoulder and I give him a warm smile, "Night Marcus, say hi to Betty and Thomas for me."

He nods his head, "Will do. I think Jerry's still in the back."

I glance back towards the office and see the light on, "Should have went home hours ago, he knew he was sick." I state.

He shrugs his shoulders, "You know Jerry, he'll work even after he dies." He says with a chuckle.

I let out a weak laugh and nod my head, "Yeah. Night Marcus."

"Night." He says as he turns and walks out of the diner.

I get back to finishing cleaning the tables, it being the last job of the night. Soon enough I'm finished and walk back into the storeroom, putting the cleaning things away. I grab my handbag and jacket from under the counter and put on the jacket before slinging the handbag over my shoulder. I look towards the office and decide to go and say goodnight to Jerry before I leave.

I walk over and knock on the door lightly, "Jerry, it's me. I'm heading home." I say.

There's no response and my eyebrow cocks up in confusion, "Jerry?" I ask again.

I hear nothing and I reach for the door handle, opening it slowly. I peek my head around the side of the door and see his back facing me from his chair, "You alright?" I ask.

He doesn't say anything and I open the door wider, walking further into the room. He remains perfectly still as I walk towards him. I reach forward and place my hand on his shoulder as I look around at him, "Jerry-"

Suddenly his hands latch onto mine and he turns up to look at me, emitting a loud growl. I scream and try to pull my hand away when I notice his face, "Jerry?" I screech.

It's Jerry, but it isn't him. His eyes are a cloudy colour, lifeless and empty. Blood stains are down the side of his mouth and the front of his shirt. He smells disgusting, the stench almost knocking me out. He grabs at me and tries to take a bite out of me and I step back. He lurches forward and knocks me over, my hand pushing things off of the cluttered desk.

He falls on top of me and I hold my hands up to push him away, him snapping at my face, "Jerry stop it!" I yell, grunting against his force.

He continues to snap at me and I reach an arm down, feeling for something to hit him with. My hands grip the blade of scissors and I reach up, stabbing them into his shoulder. He doesn't even flinch, continuing to try and bite at me. I pull the scissors out and continue to stab at him, blood flying all over me. I scream as he nears my neck and I use all my strength to push him off of me.

I sit up quickly and shuffle backwards as he crawls after me. My back hits the book shelf and fear consumes me, his empty eyes locked on me. He crawls forward and out of fear I throw my hand forward with the scissors. It lands in his eye and blood sprays everywhere and it slows him down somewhat. He goes for me again and I do the same. I push him down on the ground and straddle him, stabbing him in the eye socket multiple times. After a few more tries he completely stills underneath me.

I look down at him in shock, tears streaming down my blood stained face. As I stare at him I realise that he is dead, that I killed him. I let go of the scissors, which remain in his eye, and I shuffle back in complete shock.

"Oh God, oh God." I whisper over and over again my hands running over my face.

I stare at his body for a moment before I get to my feet, grabbing my handbag before running out of the room. I don't even bother to lock the diner doors as I run out to my truck quickly. I climb in and search through my bag, looking for my keys. I can't feel them and I tip the bag upside down and grab them off the seat. I shakily reach to put them in the ignition, struggling for a few tries. On the fourth time they go in and I start the car, putting it into gear and pulling out immediately.