Instincts (Daryl Dixon FF)

t w e n t y (Episode 10 Inmates Start)

[Season 4, End of Too far gone, Start of Inmates]

Margos P.o.V

When the dagger between my fingers finally drilled itself into the hard muscular flesh of a still bleeding and living human, not even a hint of guilt clogged my rush. I could smell the fear in his sweat, I could feel the warmth of his dark red blood sipping over my cold hand. I could see the twitch of his muscles when the pain hit his nerves and the last hint of life slowing fading away in his dark green eyes. I had gripped his shoulder tightly in my left hand, pulling his back further towards my chest and into the sharpness of my weapon. His shirt had started to soak up the blood which was rapidly pooring from his stab wound, colouring the fabric in dark red and brown tones. Little droplets were landing on the black surface of my old military boots, spilling against the jeans I was wearing.

I had been making my way over to Daryl when my eyes had caught this young man running after him, lifting an old piece of wood to smash it against Daryls head. It took only seconds for my instincts to kick in. I pushed the dead walker which was slumping against my shoulder off to the ground, pulling my knife out of its skull in the progress. Like a pile of old trash the body crumbled next to me. I could see Daryl hadn't noticed the guy approaching yet, he was too distracted with saving himself from the rapid gun shots the people on the tank were firing and so there I was, killing my first living human. He was slowly loosing conciousness in my arms, the coldness of death crawling out from the core of his body. His skin was loosing warmth, his face, his head and when his knees then finally gave in I let him fall to the hard floor emotionlessly. He heavily rested on my feet, eyes wide and empty, a hand cramped around the exit wound in his heart. I felt like the colour of his iris had gotten lighter but maybe it was just death slowly draining them. I didn't know. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, smearing his fresh blood on my skin and cleaned the dagger with my shirt before pushing it back into the shed on my hip.

After Daryl had heard what was happening behind him, his body turned around hastily. He was sweaty and dirty, his skin was littered with blood and so were his clothes. The shirt he wore underneath his west desperately clinged to his body, revealing the muscular curves of his stomach and the broadness of his chest. His left hand was cramped around a blood dripping arrow, the veins of his forearm almost popping out of his skin. He was holding a neutral stare, his warm carribic blue mixing into my arctic coldness. I had learned that Daryl was mostly as opposed to talking as I was which was also the reason I knew his neutral stare wasn't neutral at all. His other hand was slowly reaching into his back pocket. He was expecting me to react to something only that I didn't know what it was yet.

Meanwhile the gunfires had slowly started to quiet down. It had literally died down. Dead bodies started to gradually emerge from the ground and slumped over the once protected prison area. Behind Daryl the D Block was flaring in bright yellow and pure red flames, toxic black smoke covered the cloudy sky and the smell of corpses lingered in the air. I couldn't help but imagine Nico, small little Nico running through a curtain of fire like this. His petite frame being swallowed by these huge flames. I could have taken him with me but I felt like he was going to be safer with my father. Maybe my decision was wrong. I felt like the end to this fight was coming closer by the second and so would the pain. Many people must have died, the stank and the quietness gave it away. What if he was one of them? Maybe they hadn't even made it off the grounds.

"Grenade!", someone from the tank suddenly screamed.

Black and round like a spray painted tennis ball, Daryl had pulled out a small grenade from his back pocket. In a smooth motion he quickly guided it to his lips, ripping out the ring which would ignite the grenade with his teeth and in a flash I realized what his stare earlier had meant. I was only standing inches away from the tank and he surely didn't want to blow me up. He wanted me to catch it.