We're not living, we're surviving

14

Back again, did you miss me? omg this took so long to upload and I'm sorry, but it's a decent length, so y'know, you're welcome.

Making my way over to a corner of the farm to sit myself down and drink myself to oblivion, I just hoped that no one stopped me. It'd be tough trying to explain where I was going, especially as I was carrying enough alcohol to get three or four people drunk, let alone just for myself. I couldn't exactly lie about it, when it was blindingly obvious what I was going to do. I was going to drown away my feelings.

Cracking open the first bottle, I didn't even bother hesitating, drinking three maybe four long gulps before letting it sink in at least a little bit. It might be a zombie apocalypse, but I needed this. I needed to feel like there was nothing wrong, I needed to forget about Georgia and everything that was worrying me. Or else I was going to lose my mind.

Taking another three four sips of whatever foul tasting liquid was in the bottle, I closed my eyes. This was my element. Getting shit faced, no matter where I was. My eyes snapped open as the bottle was snatched from my hand, however.

"Bourbon? Really?"

"Give it back." I snarled at Daryl stood before me. This was the one piece of happiness I had right now, and he was depriving me of it. I needed this, I didn't, however, need him coming along and ruining all of my fun.

"You're getting yourself into a dangerous situation, Em. I'm not going to let you get hurt."

"Then sit with me. Watch over me should anything go wrong. There's no way I'm not getting drunk, Daryl. Just - fuck." My shoulders slumped and my eyes cast to the ground. God, he was so annoying! If he wasn't going to give it back, I was just going to start on one of the other bottles.

"No."

"Fine." My hand reached down for the vodka beside me, cracking it open and taking three long gulps before he even had enough time to stop me. "I need this." I said as he watched, clearly annoyed with me. I didn't care, though, instead I just drank more and more, desperate to feel the same buzz as I used to. As I felt before all this began. To wash away all of the thoughts in my head. To feel something other than emptiness.

"You really gonna do this? Fine." It surprised me to see him slump to the floor, to see him take several gulps from the bottle. "I ain't letting you do it alone."

I already felt drunk. The Bourbon and vodka mixing in my stomach. The warmth of the alcohol blanket setting over me. This was a bad idea, it had been from the beginning, but I wasn't going to let that stop me now. He was challenging me to stop, but there was no way I was backing down from this.

"Bet you can't down that." I replied, a smirk on my features. There was at least half a bottle left of his bottle, three quarters of mine. "First one to finish their drink wins." Except he didn't know just how much practice I'd had. Even the burn of vodka didn't bother me anymore. Why would it?

"You're on." It was clear he wasn't happy with the choice I'd made, but he wasn't going to back down either. That much was clear. Raising the bottles to our lips, we drank. And drank. And drank. He finished the bottle seconds before I did, throwing our respective bottles on the ground once we were done. Though it didn't smash, it simply bounced off the grass.

"You got any smokes?" I asked, patting myself down to find where I'd put mine. He nodded, holding one out to me. Placing it between my lips I leaned forward, letting him light it before he lit one of his own. "Nothing like a cigarette to get the alcohol to set in."

"You know how stupid you are, Em?" He paused, but I didn't answer, instead I pretended like I was ignoring him. "Really fucking stupid. And not just about drinking all this alcohol by yourself. You shouldn't have run off like that. We would have found Sophia anyway. You didn't need to run after her."

"Well I'm not by myself, am I? You're here too." I wasn't going to dignify the rest with an answer. It didn't deserve one. Sophia would have died without my help, and I would have died without Georgia. It was as simple as that.

"You gonna open that other bottle?" He asked. Again, no answer from me as I took another drag of my cigarette, flicking the ash onto the ground. "Emilia."

"Yeah, I'm going to open it." I replied, refusing to look at him. "Once I've finished this."

"Don't."

"And why not, Daryl?" Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to turn the good feeling I was getting from the alcohol into a bad one. I just wanted to enjoy it, not to get angry with him.

"Because you don't need it."

"Who are you to tell me that I don't need it? I do, Daryl, I do. I need it to be me again, I need it to feel like I'm not going crazy, I need it to be able to cope with all this shit that's going on since the fucking world ended. I need it. I need it." I was standing now, wobbling as I spoke. This wasn't me. I didn't need it. I just wanted it. Wanted to drown out all the emotions, all the voices telling me how bad I'd fucked up. My voice telling me I'd fucked up.

"Emilia," His voice was soft, his arms wrapping themselves around me, his chin on the top of my head. "Just stop, relax. You don't need it."

And in that moment I realised that I didn't need alcohol. I just needed him.