USED & ABUSED [Daryl Dixon - Book 1]

Chapter 22

The two teens sat nervously in the truck of the doctors parking lot. It was just five minutes until Lorna's appointment and she was rooted to her spot in the truck, afraid to move even an inch.

"You ready?" Daryl asked.

She shook her head rapidly. "No...I want to leave. I don't want to.."

"You have to. You need to make sure that the-" He sighed and looked down at her stomach before looking away. "-Make sure you're okay." He sighed, correcting himself.

Lorna glanced over at him, noticing his struggle with simply saying the word baby. She had noticed that since finding out he was becoming more and more reluctant to mention the situation and had pulled away from her slightly in both a physical and emotional sense.

It seemed the reality of what was happening was beginning to set in. He was worried, scared even. She could see it in his eyes, but not only that. She could see the guilt behind his eyes and also the sadness.

The saddest part was that Lorna was right. Daryl did feel guilty. He felt guilty for not being able to save her from that experience on the dreadful night, he felt guilty for not standing up to his father and taking over when he had the chance. Yes, it would have still have been a misery to both, but he knew things wouldn't be as difficult if it was him that did the deed.

He was also sad for the most unbelievable reasons. He was sad that the child Lorna was carrying wasn't his, he was sad that her child wouldn't be able to know what an amazing person she was.

He was also jealous, it was one of his biggest problems. He was jealous that his father had been the first to touch her, the one to take away something precious. Not because he only cared about sex, far from it. It was the simple fact that his girlfriend, if he could even call her that, had been ruined, so to speak, by his own father.

However the thing he was most jealous about was the fact that the baby Lorna carried was not his own, he was jealous of his father and he hated himself for it.

They were young, technically homeless and barely had a penny to their name, but he knew if it was his child she was carrying, there wouldn't be so much heartache revolving around the situation. She wouldn't be contemplating aborting her child or putting it up for adoption. They would be in it together, working out how to raise their child.

But luck never seemed to be on their side.

It was just problem after problem.

Drama after drama.

Heartache after heartache.

Daryl looked over to the terrified girl sat beside him. That made it all worse. She was a girl, not yet a women, still growing, her body still working its self out, just seventeen, abused and broken and now pregnant with a rapist child.

It pained him to see her like that, to see so broken, almost to the point where he wouldn't be able to fix her.

She was so different from the confident girl that had shouted angrily at him just months ago. She was quiet, frighteningly so sometimes. He knew she spent time mulling things over, scaring herself at her own thoughts, reminding herself of that night repeatedly.

She looked different too. Not just her small bump that was showing under her shirt. She had dark, heavy bags under her eyes from the constant nightmares. They had become more frequent since their fathers visits.

The cut on her cheek was still very noticeable. Daryl had took the stitches out but was still an angry red, sore looking and scabbed over slightly. He knew it would scar, but he would make sure she never felt self conscious of her mark.

Lorna also seemed to have taken on a very pale complexion. Before they ran away, the brief times he would see her she would look healthy, slightly tanned, but she had lost that. She was constantly pale. He wasn't sure if it was the sickness that came with the pregnancy or worse.

Sometimes he would look at her and wonder if he had stressed her out to much by dragging her away from her home. Granted, her home was an abusive one, but he had still whisked her away without a proper thought of how it would affect her. They were constantly worrying about the return of their fathers, about being found out and put into some stupid system and turned  into just another statistic.

He gently grabbed her hand that was resting on her thigh, wrapping his fingers around her own and squeezing gently. "Let's go." He whispered.

She looked back at him with tear filled eyes. "Okay."

He leant across the console, running his other hand over her soft hair. He kissed her forehead gently before pressing his own against hers. Their breath hitting each other's faces as they closed their eyes, relishing the moment they were sharing.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not ever." He said, his voice barely heard over her shaky, heavy breathing it was just that quiet, but she heard him.

"I can't kill a baby..." She whispered. "Even one that was conceived this way..."

"I understand."

A part of him hoped she would go for adoption, but either way he would stand by her and support her every decision because this was her body, her child and her life.

"But we still need to go in there and make sure...you're okay...that you're both okay." He stated.

She nodded slowly, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Then together we will talk to Mrs Peletier, see what she can do to help us. See what option are there for us. We're doing this together Lorna, no matter what you decide. I'm not leaving you."

She nodded again, unable to find her voice.

"I love you Lorna White, you've turned me into a hippy." He huffed jokingly.

She smiled slightly. "I wouldn't have you any other way Daryl Dixon. I love you." She replied.

He kissed her nose and pulled away. "Let's get going then cupcake."

•••

Sorry I didn't update yesterday. Busy, busy, busy and then when I did decide to publish the chapter, it hadn't freaking saved! I was so angry I almost smashed my phone.

This isn't as good as the original, but I tried.

Also I know there wasn't much conversation but I really wanted to get their feelings, although silent, out there. So you knew, mainly what Daryl, was thinking.

Vote and comment.