Heartless ➳ TWD² [COMPLETED]

Chapter I ➳ Dead or Alive

❝ Damaged people are dangerous.
They know they can survive. ❞
— JOSEPHINE HART —



DARYL led the pact to Hilltop when I somehow managed to get out of that sewer... Without Carl. We ended up underneath the bridge, where I could hear the Saviors talking above it before they hopped into their vehicle and sped off.

Daryl signaled for us to follow him and, as I ached closer, I could hear him tell everyone: "Best to stay off the roads, head into the woods right here. Come on. Go. Go. Come on."

We walked into the woods as I walked to the left of Dwight, behind Tara, and in front of Daryl and Rosita. I hadn't really said a word since we left last night, now that it was daylight. My voice was hoarse and I was too afraid to say anything else.

Suddenly, I heard a Walker growling from somewhere until it popped out of the woods and Tara was immediately on it. "I got it," she said, grabbing ahold of the burnt Walker by the shoulders.

Usually, I would be immediately there for her, but I even surprised myself when I crossed my arms low and looked away. Though, I did hear Dwight say: "I'll cover you."

I heard a struggle and saw that Tara had threw the Walker on Dwight. Rosita screamed out her name and Tara quickly claimed, "What? It got away. He can handle it."

Despite having a shoulder injury, Dwight managed to throw the Walker onto the ground with a thud and stomp its head in with his boot. I had already jumped forward to help, but he managed to get it.

I stared hard at Tara and yelled, "What the hell? Back off already!"

"What? See?" Tara innocently stated, trying to prove that what she just did was okay. It wasn't, though. Not even in the least.

Nevertheless, Daryl just somewhat shrugged it off and demanded, "Hey, just keep 'em moving." Daryl acted somewhat pissed towards Tara for that act she just pulled and I had no idea if it had anything to do with me at all.

Tara walked to the front, leading us towards the Hilltop, while I regrouped with Dwight. I placed my right hand under his arm and my other hand over it. "How's it doing?"

"Better," he grunted out, but I knew that he was lying. "How are you doing?"

I glanced up and our eyes met, but I just shook my head. "I don't know anymore," I truthfully admitted. I had stopped crying hours ago, before the sun came up, but I knew that I wasn't going to be okay for a while. "I'm just scared."

"Why are you scared for?" he asked, pulling his eyebrows together in question. "Because of Negan?"

I sighed and squeaked out, "Not exactly."

"Then, what is it?" He wasn't going to give up until I admitted the truth.

I softly shook my head, gulped, and replied: "I'm scared of myself."

"Yourself?"

I looked up into his eyes, that were lost between confusion and hidden sadness, and sighed. "I just don't feel good and, when I don't feel good, I do stupid and reckless things."

It took a moment after I had already glanced down and I felt his right hand come around and touch my hands that was holding his injury. Again, I glanced up and I looked deep into his eyes. "I'm not going to let you do anything that you're gonna regret."

I decided to just accept this and nod, after gulping. "Okay, D. Thank you."

He smirked and patted my hand. "No problem, baby."