A Redneck's Wicked Game (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Hell Hath No Fury...

Chapter 40—Hell Hath No Fury....

***Some of that "Adult" stuff.   :)

One Week Later

Rowan's POV

I raise up my compound bow and pull back the bow string, making my weak wrist ache in protest, I choose to ignore it, knowing damn well that I won't be going anywhere until I can hit my target with ease. I release the bow string and watch my arrow miss the bullseye slightly on the target and grumble, "Shit!" I nock back a second arrow and pull the string back, ignoring the pain. I concentrate harder on the target and release, this arrow hitting the edge of the bullseye. I lower my bow and flex my hand as I walk to the target to retrieve my arrows. I grab my arrows and walk back to try again. I decide to back up another six feet and try from this distance.

I raise my compound bow and nock back my arrow as I take aim. I steady myself and slowly exhale as I concentrate on my target. I release the arrow and watch as the arrow hits true, right in the middle of the target. I grin as I flex and shake my right hand, trying to get the pain to ease. I raise my bow again and start to pull back the bow string, struggling a little as the tension fights with my weak wrist. I lower the bow for a moment, taking a deep breath before raising it again and nocking back the arrow. I ignore the burning in my hand as I take aim on the target in front of me. I let the bowstring go and let out a slight hiss of pain as I feel the fletching of the arrow scrape my hand. The arrow hits the target but it's slightly off the bullseye. I look down at my hand, noticing the welt forming from the fletching. I mutter under my breath, "God Damn Mother Fucker! Rowan you're a damn idiot!"

I hear a raspy southern drawl behind me, "Naw, you're just trying too damn hard. Ya need to work up to it princess, stop trying to do it all today. Ya just got the cast off this morning girl." I turn around to Daryl walking towards me. I shrug as I mumble, "I can do this, I'm just outta practice." He grasps my hand, examining my welt as he softly says, "I know ya can but your wrist is gonna need time. Ya haven't used that bow in weeks." I look down at my hand as I grumble, "I'm fine Dare, I just got lazy with my stance and my hand was in the wrong position." He nods, "I know but be careful okay? Just take your time girl, you'll git there." I look at him with frustration, "I don't have time Daryl, I need to git this done." He sighs, "He ain't going anywhere. Ya got some time to heal girl, trust me. I'll help ya but this is gonna be done right, hear me?" I nod yielding to him, "Fine, help me git my strength back Daryl." He leans in and kisses my forehead as he mumbles, "I will but you've had enough for today, so time to rest." I grumble a little but give into him, "Alright but first thing tomorrow, I'm back at it." He nods and gestures me to follow him back inside the mill.

Once inside Daryl gestures from me to follow him and I walk behind him up to our room. I lean my bow against the wall and flop down on the bed, cradling my sore wrist in my other hand as I lie back on the mattress. I close my eyes while Daryl shuffles through the room, moving stuff around. I open my eyes once I feel him sitting down next to me. He points to my wrist, gesturing to me, "Let me see your wrist princess." I sigh and hold my arm out to him, watching him wrap an Ace bandage around my wrist as he says, "You need to leave this on tonight, it will help." I nod, "Thanks Dare, I appreciate it." He shrugs, "Well we ain't got no ice, so this will have to do." He stares into my eyes and I give him a small smile, "So whatcha doing now Loverboy." He grunts, "Don't know, might sharpen my knife and re-fletch some arrows, why?" I trace my fingers lightly up his arm as I purr, "Why don't ya just stay in here?" He pushes my hand away as he mumbles, "Stop, Rowan."

I pull my hand back, like I've touched an electric fence and look up at him. He shakes his head as he gets up off the bed. He paces the room a little before heading to the door. My head is spinning from his reaction and I quietly ask, "What did I do?" He stops as he reaches for the door, hanging his head as he mumbles, "Ya didn't do anything, I just can't." I can't even think clearly as he opens the door, walking through it and closing it behind him. I feel the anger rising through my body and as soon as I hear the door close, I reach for the glass Mason jar sitting on the crate next to the bed and chuck it at the door. As it hits the door, smashing into a million pieces I scream out, "FUCK YOU, DIXON!"