Torn Apart (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 14

Daryl's P.O.V

"What was you favourite type of ice cream?"

I look over at her and see her small smile. She had been asking me these sorts of questions for an hour and a half. I have been asking her the same things, where she went to school, her favourite book, etc. I think for a moment.

"Vanilla."

"Really?" She asks.

"What's wrong with vanilla?" I question.

"It's so boring. There are hundreds of flavours and vanilla is what you choose when it's your last option." She states.

"Hell no. Vanilla is so underestimated. It is the basis of all ice cream. You can add anything to vanilla without ruining the flavour, which you can't do with any other ice cream. Plus..." I trail off.

"Plus?"

"It reminds me of my mom..." I mumble.

She stays quiet for moment, "What about your mom?"

"Well, when me an' Merle were little, she used to take us out for ice cream. Merle would always order a random flavour, but me and my mom would always order vanilla. It was something that we shared, that only we did." I say, staring at the road.

"What happened to her?" She asks hesitantly.

"She died in a fire when I was younger." I say.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's alrigh'. I don' really remember her." I state.

"What about your dad?"

My hands clench the wheel at the thought of the monster. Rage buried from long ago resurfaces and I try to suppress it.

"Wha' about him?" I hiss.

"What was he like?" She questions.

"A drunken asshole who took pleasure in beating kids." I say through gritted teeth.

She gasps, a hand covering her mouth. I look at her quickly and see tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

"Oh Daryl." She whispers.

"Don' cry for me. I don' need yer pity." I mutter, turning my eyes back to the road.

"I don't pity you."

"Then what?" I yell.

She shakes her head and looks out the window, muttering to herself.

"What Cat?"

"Nothing." She curtly replies.

I get angry at her words and actions. Why was she pissed? She was the one pitying me when I didn't need it.

"Spit it out Cat."

"Spit what out Daryl?"

"I know you pity me. All you see is an abused kid with a drunken daddy and a dead mommy. But I'm more than that Cat. I haven't been that kid in a long time and I sure as hell don't need your sympathy!"

"It's not my sympathy you're getting, it's empathy because I know what you went through!"

"How the hell would you know?" I shout.

"Because I was abused as well!" She yells.

I slam the brakes, our bodies jerking forward. Cat uses her hands to stop from slamming into the dashboard.

"What?" I whisper, the only sound was the rumbling of the engine.

"Yeah that's right. I was just like you. I had a drunken daddy that liked to play with his little girl. Used to say it was a secret and that I couldn't tell anybody or he'd hurt me." She says, anger evident in her words.

"My mom had already run off with a boy half her age. I remember the day he died and I was put into foster care, marking the beginning of years of neglect, psychological and physical abuse. I didn't have a person in the world who loved me." She pauses.

"By the time I was eighteen, I was living on the streets of Chicago, making money anyway I could. I was nothing, I had nothing. It wasn't until my twentieth birthday that I realised what a mess I was that I finally got my act together. I got a job and attended night time classes at a community college. That's where I met James. We dated for three years and we were married for six. Two years later I'm a widowerer, childless and living in an apocalypse." She says, tears streaming down her face.

"So don't you dare talk to me about pity or sympathy because I know a hell of a lot more about it than you think I do!" She says, wiping the tears from her eyes.

I stare at her in shock at the revelations she has told me. The woman before me has been through more than I could ever imagine one person going through. And yet here she is, still carrying on despite her tortured past. My heart stings at the thought of the pain and memories she must hold. I go to hold her hand, but she pulls away. Determined, I grab her hand and pull her towards me. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her, as if trying to protect her from the pain she is feeling.

"I'm sorry Cat." I whisper.

"Don't be. You didn't know." She mumbles.

She looks up at me and smiles sadly. I hold her face in my hand and wipe a stray tear away from her cheek. She leans forward and kisses me softly. She pulls away and leans her forehead against mine her eyes closing.

"You drive me crazy Daryl Dixon." She whispers.

"Right back at yer, Princess." I say, kissing her quickly.

I pull away and resume driving to the destination. She leans against the door and watches me as I drive.

"What's your favourite colour?' She asks and I smirk in response.