Meet Me Under Our Willow (A Daryl Dixon Pre-Apocalypse Love Story)

Chapter 3 - Crimson Stains

Quinn : 8 years old : August

Ever since Daryl's mom died, we have grown closer. He often spends the day with me out in the woods because he can't bare to be at his new house at the end of the road. He took me there one day when no one was home. It's small and looks like a log cabin.

Every day, we meet at the willow tree at noon. Sometimes, I bring us snacks to eat. He hasn't caught many animals now that his house burnt down. I think they don't like the smoke smell that still lingers.

Today, Daryl is very late meeting under the tree. I've waited here for almost an hour and he hasn't came yet. Mom even bought fresh peaches for me to bring because that's his favorite snack. Daryl finally got to meet my parents. He's had dinner with a few times, and my parents like him well enough. They always tell me how quiet he is, and I tell them he isn't really a people person.

I start to get worried because maybe something bag happened to Daryl. Maybe he ran into a bear. But, there aren't any bears in these woods...at least I don't think there are. I shudder.

Finally, that familiar figure emerges from the forest. But, something isn't right. His back is hunched and he moves slowly, like he's struggling to walk. He collapses on the grass and I jump up and run over to him, my heart beating out of my chest. When I reach him, I see the whole back of his shirt is soaked with blood. I gasp.

He groans in pain as I carefully lift up the back of his shirt to see why he's bleeding. His back is covered in big slash marks that are still pumping out blood. This just happened. My hands start to shake, and I feel like I might puke.

"I-I'm going to go get my first aid kit." I tell him.

"No," he moans, "please don't leave me alone."

"I'll be right back, I promise."

I sprint as fast as I can down the dirt trail and back to my house. Nobody is home because Dad is at the restaurant and Mom is at the store. So no one will question me. I rip the front door open, not bothering closing it. I run down to the bathroom and rummage through the cabinet. I grab the first aid kit and a couple of washcloths. I get a bottle of water on my way out and slam the door shut behind me and run as fast as I could back to Daryl.

He's still laying in the same position I left him in. I fall to my knees next to him and open the bottle of water and wet a washcloth. I use scissors to cut open Daryl's shirt so I don't have to lift it over his head. I use the wet washcloth and start to wipe the blood off of his back. He hisses in pain and grabs fistfuls of grass.

"I'm sorry." I keep whispering every time he makes a noise of discomfort.

When I finish wiping down his back and get a good look at the size of the slash marks, my stomach churns. These are going to leave some big scars. I don't think any of  them need stitches.

"Ye need to disinfect them so I don' get sick." Daryl mumbled quietly.

"How do I do that?" I ask, panicked.

"See tha' brown bottle in there?"

I pull it out, "Yes."

"Use tha'. It's gonna sting real bad and I'm gonna scream, but that means it's workin'." Daryl pants.

I take the dry washcloth and try to steady my shaking hands and pour some of the liquid on it. I place the washcloth on one of the wounds and Daryl shouts in pain, trying not to move. I finish one wound and move to the next, and Daryl's knuckles are white from clenching them so hard.

"I'm sorry." I sob, tears running down my face.

I finally finish and I see Daryl's body relax when I wipe his back down with cool water. I find some cream and start to lather it on his back.

"What happened?" I asked softly.

"My dad came home drunk...he was mad. Took it out on me."

I start to bandage his back up the best I can with what is in the first aid kit. We didn't talk the rest of the time I spent taking care of him, the only comfort he needed was knowing I was there with him holding his hand.