Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Palace

"My head is filled with ruins, most them are built with you."

You lost Daryl.

The explosions and gunshots were too much. There was no way I could keep track of it all. I couldn't focus. I had to focus on not dying. It's not my fault. It's not my fault. 

You lost Daryl.

We lost each other. Neither of us was to blame. There was no way we could point the blame on anyone. There was too much going on. He's alive. I'm alive. It's not our fault. It's not his fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault.

You lost Daryl.

As much as he hated sleeping in a cage, he loved waking up with me. He loved me. He still does. He made love to me when he told me. He held me tightly while he did. We became one, sharing breaths and sharing bodies. You didn't hold him tight enough. No...I did. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault.

You lost Daryl.

I lost Daryl.

I lost Daryl.

It was my fault.

The plaster swirls on the ceiling have never seemed more interesting, although they only seemed to scream out my faults. I hated this feeling of emptiness that seemed to grow every second I was left alone in this room. I don't remember coming in here, I just woke up here. I must have passed out at some point last night while I was crying with Carl. His words were the only ones I had to think about right now.

You lost Daryl.

I know I'm just a kid, but so are you.

Carl. Carl. Where's Carl?

I sat up, the bed creaking slightly. My eyes felt sunken and heavy. My head pounded with every movement. 

"Carl?" I called out. The house remained silent. Even the birds and trees outside didn't make a sound. I stood, opening the door and going into the hallway.

"Carl," I called again. Nothing changed. The silence still consumed the house. I trudged my way down the stairs, finding Rick still asleep on the couch. I was worried about him. He's been out for a while. His chest was still rising and falling periodically. That's good. Carl. Where's Carl?

"Carl," I tried once more. Nothing. "Son of a bitch," I muttered before running out the back door, my knife gripped tightly in my hand. 

I ran into the streets of the neighborhood. I didn't want to shout out for him, fearing I'd attract walkers. Although, I didn't know where he was. It may be my only option. My breathing was rapid. I couldn't focus. 

You lost Daryl. You could lose Carl.

"Hey, Belle," I heard. I glanced around frantically. No, that can't be him. I looked up and saw feet dangling and swaying over the edge of a roof. I took a few steps back finding Carl sitting up there, hugging a large can of chocolate pudding to his chest. 

"What the fuck are you doing up there?" I asked, out of breath.

"Eating pudding." He shoved a spoonful into his mouth. I scoffed and shook my head, placing my hands on my hips.