Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

85: A Million Times Worse

First Person POV.

Around forty-five minutes passed before I leaned around a corner, and saw the group exiting King Ezekiel's auditorium. I still couldn't believe they had found me; I was shell-shocked. But, a part of me thought it was a sign; a sign to finally make things right, to stop running. A chance for me to reunite with my group, my family, and for us to kick some Savior ass.

I swallowed uneasily, my eyes trained on Dad. He looked so...broken. Like a firefly without it's light. He was trying to hide it, I could tell, but I knew him better than anyone; he was suffering, and painfully so. I knew I had caused it, and I turned back to look at Michonne with a pitiful expression on my face.

"W-what do I even say?" I asked her, my voice quivering.

Her shoulders rose and fell in a quiet sigh, and she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever you need to," she replied, nodding in another gesture of confidence. "Do you want me to bring just him, or him and Rick?"

I exhaled slowly through my nose. "Just him, first... he deserves to know before anyone else."

She nodded, pleased with my decision, and looked at me for a second longer before walking off, back towards the group. My group.

I could hear my heartbeat reverberating in my ears; I was scared out of my mind. I had caused my dad so much pain, I couldn't even begin to imagine it. And with him hitting me, and Glenn, and the Sanctuary, and now that? I had no idea how he was still keeping himself together. I had broken after a week at the Sanctuary, going into a frenzy just to get free. He had held on until then, enduring everything they threw at him. I could never have done that; I could never have been as strong as Dad was.

I heard a light tapping from the side of the building I was on, and I spun around in an instant. Michonne was there, peaking her head out from behind the corner. I tried my best to convey confidence as I gave her a nod, but I'm sure it was far from reassuring.

Nonetheless, a second later, she moved to the side, and a tall, muscular figure with tangled, dark hair stepped forward in her place.

I forced myself to look at my dad, but it was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. So many emotions were flashing through his Georgia blues; surprise, shock, confusion, disbelief, denial, doubt, bewilderment.... anger.

"I-I had to..." I whimpered out, feeling small under his piercing gaze. "I wouldn't let anyone else die, not-not because of me."

I saw it in his eyes; the desire to run over and throw his arms around me, to never let go again. He wanted to be relieved that I was alive, to feel that, but he couldn't. He was blinded, by anger and fear and pain.

He shook his head, hair dangling in front of his eyes that were surely full of tears. "How could ya do that ta me, ta us?" his voice came, soft, but still seething with anger.

Tears formed in my own eyes, and I bit my lip to hold them back. "I just- I had to get away," I uttered, my voice breaking. "I-I couldn't take it, and so I ran, but I knew if they found me, they were gonna kill somebody and I-...I can't take that... I wasn't gonna let it happen, not because of me..."

"So ya had to go and-..and do this?" he spoke. A tear fell, but it wasn't one of grief or guilt; it was one of boiling anger, of aching hurt.