Your blood soaked into the upholstery of the car, quickly turning the once grey fabric into a dark maroon shade. But it didn't stop there. Your wounds had no intent on giving up anytime soon. The blood flowed from you as if you were some type of water source; a river rippling freely. And all the while, your eyes fluttered to stay open.
"Stay with me!" His voice seemed distant despite the fact that he sat right beside you in the driver's seat.
His voice shook with desperation and determination, but his eyes were softened by fear and vulnerability. Daryl Dixon glanced over at your wounded body every chance he could as he watched the road he flew down. His knuckles beginning to turn white from the tension he gripped the steering wheel with.
"Gotta stay awake," Daryl said, and a groan passed through your lips as the car ran over a slight bump in the road. "Gonna get you back home, and patch you up."
Sunlight drifted back and forth from your vision as your eyes did all they could to stay open. The light twinkling in front of you like a kaleidoscope.
You moaned softly at Daryl's words, doubting that the picture he's painting for you will turn out to be a reality. But you feel a warmth knowing he's willing to lie to you if it means he'll get a few more seconds with you.
Your tongue darts out slowly to lick your lips that had become dry as a desert, before finding the strength to speak.
"Maybe this is the end."
You could hear the moment Daryl's heart plummeted in his chest from your words, and even with your eyes closed you could see the shock and fear on his face. The emotion that coarsed through his body was palpable it seemed.
"Ain't the end," Daryl insists softly yet sternly. His hands tightening futher on the steering wheel as he drives even faster down the abandoned road.
"Daryl--"
"Gonna get 'cha home. We're gonna have Denise stitch ye up, good as new. Gonna get you home and ye gonna be jus fine."
His words were sure and had a fire lit behind them. Yet the voice he spoke in didn't quite match the words that came from him. For his voice cracked as he tried to assure you of the truth he wanted to be true. But your eyes opened anyway, and you looked over best you could at the redneck driving you home.
The sunlight made him glow as his eyes focused on the road in front of him. The sweat that slicked up and down his toned and tanned arms glistened in the sunshine. And with his window open, his dark hair that was growing longer every day it seemed, blew in the summer breeze that flooded in.
"Daryl," You breathe out softly as a tear runs down the side of your face. "maybe people like you and me, maybe we don't get to have happy endings."
Daryl tenses in his seat. You can see it and you can feel your heart beat picking up as if in sync with his.
"How do ye know if ye ain't at the end yet?"
His eyes don't stray from the road in front of him that he zooms down, but his words make you feel like his deep blues are staring straight at you.
"Because when you can predict the ending, sometimes you have to stop while you're ahead."
Daryl looks over at you, his eyes staring straight into your own. But at the same time, his beautiful blues feel like they are burning new holes into you. Right there beside your bullet wounds you bleed from.
"Ain't the end," Daryl repeats and he returns his gaze to the road. "Ain't the end for us,"
"Ain't the end for you."
