Unexpected || Daryl Dixon

[22]: Judge, Jury, Executioner

~Day 80~

Daryl paced back and forth inside the barn while a bloody Randall, sat on the ground, still tied up as he nervously waited for another punch to come.

Daryl stopped in front of Randall and swung his fist towards his chin. Randall grunted as he fell to his side and let out a groan. Daryl threw another punch at Randall, as blood now coated his hand. 

Randall let out a cry when he felt the force of Daryl's hand hitting his cheek again. He spat out the blood that began pooling up in his mouth, hating the metallic taste of it.

Panting, Randall lifted his head up slightly to look up at Daryl. "I told you-" "You told me shit!" Daryl yelled grabbing Randall's shirt, sitting him up so his back was up against the wall. 

"I barely knew those guys," Randall explained. "I met 'em on the road." "How many in your group?" Daryl asked Randall as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't want to tell Daryl the truth.

Having enough of the waiting, Daryl took out a knife making Randall panic. "Uh, no, no, no," he kept repeating over and over again. 

Daryl swung the knife into the ground next to Randall's leg making him jump. "How many?" "Uh, Thirty! Thirty guys." "Where?" Daryl asked him, not missing a beat. "Uh..." 

Sensing that Randall wouldn't answer, Daryl tore off the bandage that was covering the wound on Randall's leg, making him let out a scream. "I don't know! I swear." Daryl placed the tip of his knife into the wound as Randall continued talking. "We were never anyplace more than a night."

"Scouting? Planning on staying local?" Daryl asked, his teeth clenched in anger. "I-I don't know! They left me behind." "Did you ever pick off a scab?" Daryl asked him making Randall throw his head back. "Come on, man!" Daryl pressed his knife into the wound. "I'm trying to cooperate." 

"Start real slow at first," Daryl explained as Randall kept pleading no over and over again. "Sooner or later. You've just gotta rip it off." 

Knowing that Daryl was serious, Randall decided to answer his question. "Okay. Okay. They have weapons. Heavy stuff, automatics. But I didn't do anything!" Daryl got close to Randall's face. "Your boys shot at my boys, tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You're trying to tell me you're innocent?"

Breathing heavily, Randall shouted "Yes! These-these people took me in. Not just guys, a whole group of 'em." he said making Daryl pull his knife off the wound as he stood up, listening to Randall talk about his group.

"Men and women, kids too-just like you people. Thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know? But...we got out, scavenge-just the men. One night we-we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters...teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute." Randall trailed off looking up at Daryl.

Daryl was disgusted at what Randall had confessed to him. He knew where Randall was going with this in his story.

"Their daddy had to watch while these guys...they...and they didn't even kill him afterwards. They just made him watch as his daughters...they just-just-just left him there," Randall stuttered out. 

He looked up and saw Daryl's facial expression. Randall then started shaking his head frantically "No. But-but-but I didn't touch those girls. No, I swear I didn't to-" Randall let out a pained cry as Daryl kicked his injured leg. 

"Please," Randall begged as he lied on the dirty floor of the barn. "Please. You gotta believe me, man. I'm not like that. I ain't like that. Please. Please, you gotta believe me," he cried. 

Not hesitating, Daryl kicked at Randall's injured leg making him cry out from the sharp pain he was experiencing before getting punched in the face again by a furious Daryl.