Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Sulking

•thirty-seven•

Beatrix

I pull myself out of my thoughts by sobbing. I'm so pathetic, sitting on a couch in the fetal position, crying over something that I can't change. I try to wipe my tears away, but it's proving to be extremely difficult to wipe them away when they just won't stop coming out.

I'm completely and utterly terrified of those men. They did unspeakable things to me, and I know that they'll try to find me again so that they can finish where they left off. I also know that, no matter how hard Rick or Daryl tries, they won't be able to protect us if all of those men come after us.

All I have to do is look over at Daryl. I wish he would wake up soon so that I can talk to him. I know he won't say much about it, but it would help if I could just talk to him. Shaking my head, I begin to realize that my injuries desperately need to be taken care of, and some of them are on my back, so I can't reach all of them. I'll have to get Beth to help me, but I'm not going to leave Daryl in here alone, so I pull myself up off of the couch and walk over to open the door.

"Beth!" I call out into the hallway, trying to make it sound like I haven't been crying. I don't think it's working, though.

"Yeah, Beatrix, what's wrong?" She responds, jogging down the hallway to me.

"I have, um, wounds," I mutter, ushering her into the room. "I would take care of them myself, but I don't think I can reach them."

"Um, okay," she nods, walking over to the pile of gauze and antibiotic cream I have laying on the coffee table. "Where are they?"

I respond my pulling my shirt off, which hurts like hell. Beth gasps at the sight before her, and I don't blame her at all. I would do the same. I'm actually surprised that the other ones who saw me didn't gasp. I know it looks bad, even worse than my face does. I haven't actually seen my face, but I know it's bad. There are dozens of cuts littering my upper body, blood covering all of them.

"I need to go get some water to wash these off," Beth finally speaks. "It looks like a few of them will need stitches too. Can I get some from the trailer?"

"Of course," I nod, watching her walk out the door. A few minutes later she returns with everything she needs. "Would you rather do front or back first? And do you want me to stand or sit?"

"You can sit on the table. I'll do the back first," she decides.

Beth goes slow, probably trying as hard as she can to make everything neat and perfect, but I just wish she'd hurry up. I have no pain medicine, and sutures hurt, not to mention all of the other shallow cuts, and it's even worse when she pours the peroxide over them. It takes her about an hour and a half to finish.

"Beatrix, if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you," she gives me a soft, sympathetic smile. "You can talk to me any time."

"I know. Thank you," I force a smile back at her. "I'm not ready to talk about it though."

"I understand," she says, cleaning up all of the supplies she used on me. "You know where to find me when you're ready."

I just nod and look back over to Daryl. He looks peaceful, and I want to sit down and hold his hand, so that's exactly what I do.

"Is Rick out there figuring out a plan for how to deal with Bob?" I ask Beth.

"Yeah," she answers. "He says he's thinkin' about goin' back to try and make peace with them. He said he really doesn't want any trouble with any of them."

"I doubt that'll work," I sigh. "They're not very peaceful people."

It falls silent, and I focus my attention on Daryl again. Tears begin to slip out of my eyes again as I look down at his hand in mine. His hand starts to twitch, bringing a soft smile to my face.