Light | TWD | Daryl Dixon Fanfiction

01

The primal need to survive was the only thing that had kept her alive so far. That, and pure luck. Juliana was certain that she was not the only one that questioned why she had managed to survive over others. Good people were not supposed to die. They were supposed to be that bright beacon of light, leading people like Juliana to safety. And yet, here she was, still alive, and no closer to any beacon.

Her legs moved her forward, but they burned and ached. She could remember a time when her mind would tell her to stop and rest, and now it was automatic. The basic needs for survival were all she could manage to do. That, and hide from the dead and the living. As time went on, it became clear to Juliana that those who were still alive were worse.

An old backpack was wrapped around her shoulders. Each strap was wrapped around with duct tape multiple times to keep them together, with the hope that maybe one day she would be able to fill it with more than tin cans of dog food and half empty water bottles. She was sure her back was coated in sweat in this heat. A dark blue shirt clung to her skin, and every time she tried to pull it away from her skin to get some air, it would come back onto her stomach with a 'slap.' Her jeans were ripped at the knees and dirty; tucked into a pair of brown boots she had found somewhere in South Carolina. It had taken her awhile to be okay with taking what wasn't hers, because these boots belonged to someone. Someone wore them and lived in them. Now they were probably dead, but Juliana felt like she was walking in the shoes of a ghost. Even if scavenging was now something that had to be done, it never felt comfortable.

She kept on moving. Stopping to grab an old water bottle out of the backpack when she felt her throat scream at her in thirst. This time when she stopped, a rustling came from the woods next to the road. One of the dead came shambling out awkwardly through the brush, knocking his dislocated shoulder against a tree as he let out a low groan making his way towards her. Her hand fell to her belt, yanking at a hunting knife she had found at some old outfitters. Without hesitating, she gripped the handle confidently and took a few long strides over to him. The flesh had peeled away from around his teeth; lips gone due to decay. He chomped in her direction, a skeletal hand with missing fingers reaching out. Juliana held a hand to his chest to keep him at a distance and drew her other hand back, plunging the knife into his temple. The dead stopped suddenly as if someone had turned a switch off, and he fell to the ground as Juliana yanked the knife back out of his skull.

Her first kill hadn't gone as easy, or as emotionless. She had come to check in on her mother, who happened to be incredibly obese. So much so that the woman was going to be living out her days in a bed that almost wasn't enough to hold the large amounts of skin and fat that rolled off her body. Juliana didn't visit often, as a nurse took care of her mother. Juliana and her mother never got along well, even when Juliana was younger. The woman was a heartless bitch surrounded by fat, and Juliana resented her immensely.

She had come to the house when the hospital called and informed her that the nurse who helped her mother would be unable to come out for an undetermined amount of time. It didn't sit well with Juliana, as she now had to leave work early to feed and bathe her own mother. When she got to the house, it was the smell that hit her first when she walked through the door. It was something she had never smelled before. Juliana gagged, holding her hand to her mouth as the smell became worse and worse. The sound of flies buzzing in the house became louder as she made her way to her mother's bedroom. The woman was rotting. Vomit covered the front of her; but she was awake, or so Juliana had thought at the time. Her mother had let out a groan, drool rolling out from the corner of her mouth as she lifted a hand to Juliana. Juliana was terrified, disgusted, and distracted. There had been a nurse at the home, and she came out from behind the half-closed door of the room, missing half of her face. Juliana had stumbled backwards and the nurse followed unrelentingly. Juliana screamed at yelled at the nurse and began throwing things at her: pillows, small collectibles; anything she could find. The nurse in the purple scrubs continued, and finally managed to grab Juliana in her distressed state. Juliana fell, grabbing onto a lamp on her way down.

The nurse clawed at her shirt, teeth chomping. The tendons in her jaw visible from the outside. Juliana closed her eyes, smashing the lamp against the side of the nurse's head. The clawing stopped, and when she opened her eyes she saw the nurse had rolled half off her, fresh blood seeping out of a crack in her skull. Pushing the body the rest of the way off her, Juliana sat up quickly, pulling her knees up to her chest and sobbed. Hours later she managed to go back into her mother's room and bashed her head in with a baseball bat.

Things were so much different now. She could take the dead's life without a second thought. Having to kill someone who was alive, though, that was rough.

Juliana continued, and single miles turned into double digits. For miles, there had been nothing but road, and woods, and an old broken car here and there. The windows varied from broken out to rolled up with an old blanket shoved up into the crack between the window and the lip of the door. Scratching and groaning reverberated from one of the cars. Juliana glanced around as she continued forwards, just to make sure that none of the dead were following her.

A soft warm breeze blew from the south, giving her a little relief from the sweltering heat of the south. She pulled at her shirt again. It sucked against her skin for a moment before coming away. The breeze blew by again and a sigh escaped her lips; the air caressing her skin. Letting go, the skin slapped back against her skin like it had done before. The fabric felt heavier, and Juliana was beginning to think she was wearing her weight in sweat that had soaked into the shirt.

From the timber line a large mass appeared in front of her. Juliana rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand to make sure that she wasn't hallucinating. When realization came over her that it was real, her breath hitched in her throat. Before her was a large correctional facility; a side of the building had been blown out yet the inside, which remained surrounded by a high-security fence. As she surveyed the area quickly, noting that a few of the dead were pressed up tight against the wire fence, she couldn't help but notice that the inside seemed all but free from them. It would be a good place to rest if it was free from the dead.

A surge of hope rushed through her and she quicken her pace, veering off the road that led directly up to the prison and into the dense forest. Her hand reached from the knife at her hip, yanking it free from her belt. Fingers grasped the handle as she moved through the woods, maneuvering around thick shrubs and sliding between masses of young trees that had grown tightly together.

She had managed to fight her way through the thick understory and came to meet the edge where the woods met a field of short grass that sprawled out until it met the fence line. That hope that had begun to rush through her swelled through her body again. One foot stepped out onto the grass before Juliana was yanked back into the woods. A woman carrying a sword, which was now conveniently placed against her neck, had pulled her back into the woods.

In this moment, everything changed.