Killer and a Sweet Thing (a Daryl Dixon story)

THEN:

The air was dry and there was always a chilling silence that hung in the air. There was no hum of a car, or human life- just the occasional groans of the dead that hunted her down- that hunted down every living, breathing creature with an unrelenting drive. The tiny brunette kid couldn't help but find some inspiration in the dead's hunger drive, and she only wished that she had the same unrelenting hunger for survival. But as the days wore on, and her last interaction with another human being was the battered car that zoomed past the bloody girl on the highway with their middle finger pointed condescendingly in her direction, she had begun to lose the will to survive. She knew the only reason she was still trying- still walking down the empty road was because of that glimmer of hope she felt when she saw the same car wrapped around a tree 8 miles up, and with a smile she returned their earlier gesture and left them moaning, blood and flesh gargling in their throats, and she hoped maybe people get what they deserved, and she knew she deserved the world. Her legs buckled beneath her as a member of the undead clasped onto her grubby, black boot.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath and she planted her blade into the cranium of the dead, and she begrudgingly picked herself up and continued down the lonely road. She wiped the almost black, congealed syrup off her knife's shining blade onto her thigh, and looked down at her left arm for an hourly checkup. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was so raw it made her nauseous, and her vision clouded in pulses.

The sun was unforgiving on her skin, which she'd always tried to keep pale, and it seemed to make her dry throat more irritated, and she swallowed her saliva greedily, hoping it might make some difference to her current state. She felt the sun that once beat down onto her bare back, beat down on her face, nailing her from the front- the only indication of just how long she'd been traveling. Her sore that pulsated on her arm, inflamed, red and irritated was enough to make the small, young girl drop to her knees. She summoned all the voice that she had to scream- just scream till she could no longer- she wanted the dead to finally have their way with her dried, salted flesh, but the arguing of men erupted out of the woods not 5 meters ahead of her. Her eyes went wide at the noise, and her heart pounded against her chest in painful excitement. Despite how hopeful the sound of other humans made her, she wasn't sure whether she should move. Despite her little accident with her arm, she was finally getting good with her knives, she could survive on her own. However the main reason for her hesitance, was that she was growing comfortable with her lack of will to live, and she didn't know if it would be smart to challenge that with the joy of human company.

The men continued to yell and shout, and for reasons unknown, she found her drive again and clambered up, tripping and getting back up yet again. She didn't stop running until she found the commotion- human beings.

"Quit dickin' 'round Merle and fuckin' help me!" The voice called out and it reached her, making her smile in pure joy- these people were alive- and she begged to find the strength to keep them that way.

"You know I would, but my hands're pretty full right now, little brother!" The other man bellowed sarcastically. The first man struggled against the dead that pinned him to the ground- its teeth snapped more viciously than a shark, and the second man struggled against 2 more dead, whilst another approached the commotion. The young girl tore the knives from the belt of her jeans and with one deep breath she embedded the blades of both knives into the craniums of the dead pinning the second man against a tree. Once the older man had been freed by the girl, he took down the approaching with a jeering chuckle, and the girl repeated the same violent infliction on the final member of the dead, who had the first man trapped and helpless. Her chest heaved heavily with adrenaline, and she tried not to shake as she raised a hand to wipe the vile smelling blood off her right cheek. Looking down at the man, the girl offered him her hand, but he rejected her offering and stood up on his own accord.