Till Death Do Us Part: A Daryl Dixon Story (The Walking Dead)

43

I felt everything. There was no numbness, no blur. Daryl wasn't coming. The dead girl in the corner was, well, dead. And so was I. This was it. This was Merle all over again. Except he was long dead, and the man on top of me was far, far worse. I wondered how long after my heart stopped beating would my baby's follow.

If I could hold on for two minutes, 120 seconds, Daryl could make it back.

But then what?

He'd hold me close as I breathe my last ragged breaths while our child bleeds out of me. Tristan laughing in the background.

It was all too cruel, too unbelievable.

My breathing hitched. Blood dribbled out the corner of my mouth. I could taste the bitterness, the anger inside of me, leaking out mixed with my saliva.

The corners of my mouth weakly pulled up into a smile - memories long gone resurfaced. Memories of two brothers and one girl. The brothers residents of the town shunned and rejected. And that was always clear when we went out to the local bars.

- a few years back...

"Ya always look so damn good in those shorts." Daryl snuck behind me, kissing the skin behind my earlobe, his arms grabbing my hips.

"Yea?" I spun around in his grasp, taking hs hands in mine.

"Hell yea!" Daryl bellowed, pulling me back in.

That was us. Me pulling away, scared of this man so different, so strange and at the same time still so curious of the man beneath his outer self. And Daryl was always there to pull me back in, no matter how far I tried to run and hide. It had been about a month since I woke up in a strange room with Daryl Dixon. Nothing happened (we assumed), so we did what any two normal but wary strangers would do after an encounter such as that -we went out for breakfast.

Daryl ate like a starved pig. I was equal parts disgusted and fascinated with his capacity to inhale food. He was done before I finished my one slice of dry, unimpressive toast. He then had eyes only for my eggs.

"What ya thinkin' of?" He said, twirling a stay hair of mine between his fingers.

"Oh, nothing...just about how you're always stealing my food." I got the reaction I was looking for - Daryl wrapped me in a tight embrace and bit my neck.

"Maybe I'll just have to eat you up then." His tongue snaked across my skin.

We were standing in the centre of a dirty, suspiciously smelly bar in a town I wouldn't have ever thought I'd be in, but all that mattered was him. These moments that left me aching inside. I was so lost in this man.

"Daryl Fuckin' Dixon." Someone boomed, interrupting my moment in the stars.

"Aw, shit, if it ain't the man himself" Daryl let go of me instantly. I pouted a little.

The two men embraced, just as another bothersome man crept up beside me.

"I'll hold ya while he's gone, cutey. " Merle said, sipping his beer.

"No, thanks." I learnt the only way to handle Merle was to be firm. Dont show him you're scared or anything. He got off from fear.

"Please? My lips taste nicer than my baby brother." It was his turn to pout.

A reflex disgusted noise came from my throat and I quickly joined Daryl and his friend. Their conversation came to a hush. I looked at Daryl suspiciously.

"I'm Erin." I said in an attempt to erase the silence.

"Cute." The man said, his eyes taunting as he grinned at Daryl.

And then he pulled the knife.

"I fucking told you Dixon's not to pull one over on me." He bared his teeth and lifted the knife.

"Shit, get outta here Erin!" Daryl yelled. In a swift motion he was standing in front of me, with his arm outstretched.

My knees nearly gave way when I saw the blood splatter on the floor. The knife caught Daryl in his hand; the long, dirty blade pierced through his palm. I staggered backwards, unable to fully comprehend the situation. Violence such as this was limited to tv shows and movies for me before this. Glass shattered and sprayed the floor -Merle hit the man with a deathwish for the Dixon brothers over his head with beer bottle he'd been nursing earlier.

"Run lil' brother!" Merle yelled, and then began his assault on the semi-unconscious man.

Daryl's face was distorted with pain. He pulled me behind him with his good hand. My gaze was fixed on the blade in his palm.

"My keys." Daryl mumbled when we were outside. Their truck was parked near the bar entrance. My fingers were jelly as I searched his pockets.

The drive to the emergency room was silent. If his hand hurt, he wasn't showing it. This was the first incident in which Daryl and Merle's shady dealings were brought into the light for me to see. And like many other times to come, I chose to ignore it.

I was too lost in him. I still am.

----

The memory of Daryl getting stabbed in the hand made me want to laugh till my belly ached. I used to kiss the ragged scar it left behind. I tried so hard to kiss his sins away.
I slowly turned my head to the side. I was face to face with the dead girl. Her eyes were empty and hollow. Mine probably matched hers. I didn't want to be alone, to die like this this, like she did.

I stretched out my fingers and softly grazed her hand. Her skin was still warm. I tightened my grip on her index finger.

And then her grip on my hand tightened.

Light shone from her eyes once more. They saw into my own eyes, void of light. She saw the man on top of me, her eyes moving to my swollen, exposed belly.

In a motion so quick and swift, I couldn't understand what had happened until long after, Tristan collapsed on top of me. He had the weight of a dead man. Blood trickled from the wound on his neck onto mine. It was warm and comforting. The girl stared into my eyes once more. Her grip loosed on my hand.

Her eyes smiled at me as the light within died.

I felt my own light rescinding, eager to follow after her, refusing to let her go into the darkness alone. My eyelids felt heavy, encouraging me to float into the heavenly sleep that awaited...

One voice was all it took to ignite the will to live.

"Erin?" He said, sounding confused and scared. The voice of a small, frightened child.

"No, no, no." He mumbled.

The dead weight on top of me was suddenly gone. The warmth of Tristan's blood was replaced with Daryl's arms. I was cradled in his lap, his thick jacket wrapped around me.

His tears landed on my face.

"It doesn't hurt." I assured him.

It hurt so bad I wanted to scream and cry, lash out at this cruelty, at this reality. My lungs burnt, my heart ached. His lips were pressed to my scalp.

"Dont you dare, Erin." He begged. "Dont you dare."

I touched his cheek. It was rough from his stubble. The lines on his face assured me life would go on for him.

"Take me home, Dixon." I whispered, tasting his tears. "I want to die in bed laying next to you."

....
I opened my eyes and immediately knew. It was too quiet, too empty.

Death was not ready for me just yet.
Life still had a few cruel jokes.