The Walking Dead Imagines || Completed

Death's Mess - Daryl Dixon (Part 1)

Summary: Aaron, your best friend, accidentally pushes you a little too far in his practice game and ends up giving you more than you can handle. Thus, leading you to create a mess that could cost his life. Daryl, your boyfriend, doesn't seem to understand where this had come from and slowly harbors anger towards you and explodes in a violent matter. Aaron tries to defend you, but it might be too late.

Word Count: 1115

Warnings: Light swearing, mentions of death

A/N: I'm not completely satisfied with this and it has yet to be proofread, but I just HAD TO POST IT. Hope y'all are having a wonderful day <3

— — —

There on the floor is Death, in all his glory and gore. Looking up at the fuel in your eyes; dangerous and wild circles spinning around in that mind of yours. And in those orbits, pools of entanglements and infinite paths, there Death could see what you truly were in these moments. A sinner.

Death is not a thing that bothers you; for it is a natural thing, balance. Yet, here you are, gun in hand, covered in blood from head to toe; replaying the events that had played on just now and being confused by them.

You are shaking, you don't know if it's the cold or the fact that you shot someone. Blood is splattered against the cold hard floor, pools of life that go on forever; the origin of this pool is a lifeless Aaron.

He was one of them, you repeated those words in your head like the guilt would vanish from your shoulders any time soon. But, you know the guilt is there; you had to be held accountable. Everyone is held accountable in this world.

This is not something you could blame on circumstances. Doors closing is the only sound you hear, guessing people heard the tumultuous sounds that resounded from your Beretta.

It's a sight to see, you have a gun raised at the gathering crowd; waving it violently as tears slip through your dull eyes and your mouth mumbles incoherences. You can see Rick is talking to you, but words are beyond your comprehension at this point. They didn't know, they could never know.

You know, at this moment, as you look down at Aaron's lifeless body, that it was him, and in fact, not a walker.

"I said-" Rick is now walking towards you, hands raised up as a sign that he means no harm. His words are now clear as day and they flow rapidly through the thick air.

"lower the gun or I will make you."

His fingers touch the gun ever so subtly, lowering it slowly yet surely as he takes it from your hand.

"Has anyone seen Eric?" Rick questioned.

At this, you remember Aaron's significant other, Eric. Eric will be devastated, heartbroken. At least, he will feel a fraction of what you are feeling now; a little bit differently, but that's enough.

Speak of the Devil and he shall come; a sob is heard from the end of the street, Eric falls on his knees as he takes in the scene he wishes would not have happened.

"What did you do?!" A questioning crack is evident in his voice, not helping your situation or mental state.

"Aaron, he-" You stop mid sentence.

They could never know, you kept on repeating yourself. Is it worth it though? Risking your safety for a valid reason.

Just then Michonne's voice ran distinctively through the now gathered crowd, "(Y/N), for fucks sake! Answer the question or I swear I will shoot you right here."

No longer is Michonne's voice that of a friend; it is now distant, as if she's treating a stranger instead of family.

"What's goin' on here?" The voice of the man you have given your all to questioned as he got out of his bike and starts walking towards the crowd.

You notice Daryl's horror as he stands in front of the crowd and sees the blood in you; looking down at the body next to you.

You took a leap of faith and ran; running for the walls as fast as you could and jumping over them. You ran to the sniper tower you know Sasha is in, at least she doesn't know.

There you remain the rest of the day and night; a coward, too weak to show. Right or wrong, a sinner is what you are now.

You were never a devoted Catholic, but you had grown in a family who did have principles. One of them being: do not kill. And still, you did it.

——

"You still in here?" Sasha's low voice rumbled around the four walls of the small tower.

It is now morning. The sunlight shun through the windows, as if nothing had happened just yesterday. The world kept on going.

"Yes." Your voice sounds hoarse, product of not drinking anything for the last 20 something hours.

"He's not dead."

A whiplash takes over you as you lift your head up so rapidly at the premise that left Sasha's lips. Groaning you lift your hand up to your sore neck, damning it to hell.

"But, before you say anything to me. I think there is someone waiting for you besides Aaron's bed in the doctor's office. You should go."

At this, you take up path to the office, passing the gates you escaped through in desperate times.

"Why?"

These are the first words that Daryl speaks as you walk through the set of doors in Denise's office; anger evident in his voice as he looks at the bed where Aaron is laid, livid and awake.

You ignore the question, rapidly running up to Aaron and looking him up and down; checking where the gunshots had landed.

"Aaron-" Aaron raised a hand up, wincing in pain and putting it back on the bed.

"I know why you did it. I could see it, feel it, hear it; I'm sure you don't remember it, but I do. In that moment, all you saw was a walker, not me. In your eyes I was never Aaron in that moment. I was your biggest nightmare, the culprit of your weekly funerals and cries. I understand." His voice was calm and collected; something you didn't expect.

"I forgive you. Though i'm gonna have a bitch scar when it all heals. You, um, you should clean up. My blood doesn't look good on you." Only Aaron could joke at a time like this; still Daryl looks at you with cold, distant eyes. Eyes that hold unrecognizable anger in them, harbored towards you; this sends shivers down your spine.

"Daryl, I didn't-"

"Ya' didn't what? Didn't mean it?! He's still fucking laying in a bed with a gunshot in his chest. Don't tell me ya' didn't mean it. To hell with you! Always a dumb bitch who's scared of er' thing she sees." A sharp intake of breath is the only audible thing in the room, from where Aaron is laid in the bed; he's surprised by the word choice Daryl uses when referring to his significant other, you.

"It's okay Aaron." You say, giving him a small smile and leaving the office; returning back home, to your house, and gathering some clothes so you could stay over at Rick's.