𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗜𝗡𝗦 (DARYL DIXON X READER)

Chapter 1

You hated how the rotten, disgusting brains clung to your sword's blade, something that would always remind you in the kind of world you were now living in. Cleaning it was annoying, even disgusting, sometimes, but there was no time for that at the moment, after all. More walkers stumbled toward you, their lifeless, dead eyes locked onto your every move as you took off running instead of wanting to fight. You had to save the last bit of energy that you'd left.

Sometimes, you try to imagine who they once were before the world ended. You tried to think of their rotting faces in your mind, trying to see past the decay of the people they once were, wishing to know what they did for a living and what they'd do now if they were still alive. But it was for nothing in the end. Their pasts didn't matter anymore, and you knew it. Now, there were only the living and the dead. Predators and prey. Perpetrators and victims.

Suddenly, a walker lunged at you, but you moved quickly, ramming your sword into its head, and it fell backward, dead on the ground.

How you longed to wake up in your cozy bed, realizing this was just a long, bad dream. How you longed for the day to wake up from this nightmare. But there was no waking up from this. The world had become hell, and there was no escape.

You continued to walk along the trees, your attention focused, to avoid losing your way, but you were still glad. You were glad that it was rather sunny and that home wasn't that far out of reach anymore. Winter had been brutal, with hypothermia lurking at every corner, and many of your friends hadn't survived. Most of them died of an afterdrop.

It was terrible to think about, but you had to burn their bodies to keep yourself and the rest of the group warm. Those who froze to death had, in a horrifying way, given their friends a chance to live. Now, six months later, you were alone. The few survivors you encountered on your way home never lasted long, even though you tried to save them many times, telling them that they should come back with you to your home.

Yet, the rumors they've talked about, of a military base, have given you hope for them, though hope in this world is often just a joke, a dangerous one even.

The last six months felt like an eternity. But there was a town where you once had a home—a bed, a room, safe walls, and, of course, your friends. But you knew that you could arrive to find it destroyed, with the walking dead lurking in every corner. Still, such scenarios were nothing new, and you knew that you had to stay grounded and keep a clear head, though it was difficult to maintain control and to hold back any kind of feelings when uncertainty was all around you.

Suddenly, you faced a hanging body—a walker, swaying from a tree, its rotten arms and legs trying to move their way toward you, trying to grab you. Instinctively, you reached for your sword, ready for anything, but, in the end, you didn't kill it. Why? You don't know it yourself.

You continued walking, each step tearing your mind apart between hope and dread. If things went as they had the day you left, you wouldn't have to face the families of your fallen friends. People who had lost loved ones were waiting for their return. You couldn't cry with them; you had to remain strong and calm. But was it that easy?

In the distance, you finally saw a street—the street that you were looking for.

You put your sword away and hurried along the road, which seemed to stretch into infinity. Your eyes couldn't see the end, but you knew it wasn't far anymore. Anticipation and fear as you walked—that's what you felt. But soon, you saw a small river to the left. Tired and thirsty, you decided to rest for at least half an hour. So you left the road, following the stream to a clear spring that you knew was there. You washed your face and filled two bottles with water, thinking how, in these times, you had learned to appreciate any type of food as well—squirrels and snakes became delicacies.

Lying on the green grass, you watched the sky and the white clouds. Normally, you would use this moment to think, but your mind was blank. The world had changed, and so had you. What drove you forward all the time, since the apocalypse had started, was the chance to reach a place you could call home, and you found it. After half an hour, you finally got up, feeling refreshed and a bit less exhausted, and returned back to the road.

It still seemed endless. Abandoned cars, corpses... That's what you find most of the time on the road nowadays.  But soon enough, you recognized the entrance, with archers and snipers at the corners. They were still well organized without you, not that you'd had any doubt. And you slowed down, enjoying the sight, and stood motionless before the wall. Finally, you approached the gates, hopeful, exhausted, and glad that you were leaving the name of the place behind you as you walked inside.

Woodbury.

Your home.