Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

From The Dining Table

"Why won't you ever be the first one to break?"

The week was passing agonizingly slow. All I wanted to know was where Daryl and I stood. That's it. Something so simple caused me so much fucking stress. Not only that but Carl's words kept rummaging around through my thoughts. I don't like you with that Adam guy. And even more, here I am kissing Adam. I didn't know where my head was, but it definitely was not at the Georgia prison. I needed to fix this. I needed to create a solid standing ground before I ruined anything else in my life.

"Adam, we can't do this," I said, nearly out of breath as I ran to him. He was out about the courtyard.

He looked at me slightly confused and chuckled. "Uh, what...what do you mean?"

"I know we kissed the other night but we can't do this," I retorted nearly instantly. "We can't be something. You can't get close to me. We can't--"

"Whoa, whoa, Belle, where is this coming from?" 

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "What happened the other night...it can't mean anything."

"But--"

"No, Adam. I'm sorry, it can't. I love someone else and I'm not gonna fuck around and confuse myself."

"Oh, so we're fucking now?" he asked sarcastically, although he was beginning to sound frustrated.

"No, that's not what I meant."

"I like you, Belle. There's something about you that's just so...so captivating. You even said you aren't together anymore. Why not just take a chance?"

"Because I still love him," I admitted. "Look, you're really sweet, but I have this tendency of getting people I care about hurt or killed if they get too close. I don't want to see that happen to you."

He sighed, his jaw tightening as he became slowly more angered. "Then why'd you let me kiss you? Why'd you kiss me back? Why'd you fucking encourage me?" he asked.

"I don't know and I'm sorry. I'm trying to get myself together and--"

"No, you know what? I'm not gonna let you push me away. But I'm not gonna let you play me. So you figure your shit out and then let me know." Adam angrily pushed past me, walking back into the prison. God, this is not how I wanted this to go. I blew a piece of hair out of my face. I never expected him to get this emotionally attached to me. And as much as this hurt me, I knew this was for the greater good.

***

I nervously paced around my cell, biting at my nails. Today was the day. The week had finally come to an end. The seventh day. Our day of reckoning, if you will.

As I turned back towards the doorway, Daryl stood there the same way he always did: arms crossed and leaning against it. "Nervous?" he asked jokingly.

"I guess," I mumbled, tearing my fingers away from my mouth. Daryl nodded his head, signaling for me to follow him. 

My heart was beating fast as he led me outside. We walked around the side of the prison, stopping where Maggie and I talked over a week ago. Daryl turned and looked at me. Seeing the evident fear in my eyes, he placed a hand on the side of my face, the other on my hip. He kissed me softly. God, I missed his lips. I savored everything about this moment; the way his lips felt against mine, the way his fingertips pressed lightly into my skin, the way he held me so gingerly.

When he pulled away, I was hopeful that the kiss was part of his answer. When I opened my eyes, however, Daryl's lips were left in a frown. I fearfully pushed my gaze up to his eyes, frantically looking back and forth between them.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

My mouth hung open slightly as my heart fell to my feet. Everything seemed to feel like it was crashing down on me. 

"I know I'm hurting you," he continued, "but I need you safe. And that's not with me."

I said nothing. I just let him slip away while I stayed glued to my spot on the ground. I couldn't believe it. I cleared my whole life this past week having high hopes he'd come around. And he didn't. I couldn't cry. I realized I just could not stay here at the prison. Not with Adam. Not with Rick. Not with Carl. Not with Daryl. I just couldn't do it. Not anymore.

I told Rick I was planning on going on a solo run. He was a bit skeptical but agreed to let me go. This was going to be my escape; going on a run and never coming back. It was shitty, I know, but it was the easiest way for me to get out. 

I made sure to pack a few of my belongings, my photos being my main concern. I left Daryl's poncho neatly folded on the top bunk. I found a small scrap of paper lying around and scribbled a note that I left on the table.

I had to leave and I'm sorry
~Belle

I gripped the straps on my backpack tightly before leaving my cell for the last time.

Rick handed me a walkie-talkie as I was leaving. "The station's set," he said, "just check in." I nodded, not saying anything in return.

It hurt that I couldn't say goodbye to anyone. I didn't want to leave but I had to. I wasn't going to keep putting myself through hell. If Daryl wasn't gonna work with me to fix what we had then there was no point in making myself suffer.

I drove for some time but eventually left the car on the side of the road. I knew that once I didn't come back for a while, they'd start looking. The car would be a dead giveaway. So I walked for a long time; long into the early evening. It was tiresome and dealing with walkers was a pain in the fucking ass, but I managed.

"Belle, do you copy?" I heard Rick's voice on the walkie. I glanced at the piece of equipment in my pocket for a moment. "Belle," he tried again. I didn't answer. "Belle, you've been gone for a long time, we're getting worried. Is everything okay?" Static filled the air. I didn't want to answer. It's funny; I acted like I wanted to get away from it all but also acted like I want to be found. It was a strange predicament to be tangled up in.

After a day or two, I found a small neighborhood of houses I decided to make my own for the time being. I hadn't run into any of the group which was a relief. Rick did still try and contact me via the walkie, but I still never responded. I couldn't imagine the shit they were going through, and I must admit, I felt horrible for it. But like I said, I wasn't making myself suffer anymore.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. How I managed to get away this long was beyond me. I think I've been gone for maybe three months? I've lost track. It was a struggle each and every day. I missed the group terribly. I thought about caving in and going back to the prison, but each time I left the consideration on the shelf. I stared at my pictures nightly, sometimes crying, sometimes reminiscing. 

It was around midday when I heard the rumble of an engine near my house. I was immediately set on high alert, grabbing my gun and quickly but quietly treading down the stairs. I waited a few feet behind the front door, my gun cocked and ready to shoot anyone who threatened me. The wood on the front porch creaked beneath a person's weight, their footsteps slow and quiet. The door handle turned slowly and my hands tightened on my gun. As the door swung open, my eyes met the end of a crossbow. My grip loosened as I stared in shock. There he was.

Daryl Dixon.