Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Comfortable

"Now it's like I'm walking on eggshells trying not to burn the hell out."

Rick told me I needed to stay in the infirmary and stay quiet. I didn't have time to argue. Walkers were flooding into our streets. Rick took off to his house to figure out what to do and keep his family safe.

Denise and I tried to keep each other calm as hours passed of us just listening to muffled moans of walking corpses. At one point, I picked up a small mirror and examined my injuries.

I had a gash in my lip and eyebrow, half my face was bruised, and I had a fat black eye. Oh, and the stitches in my cheek.

By now it was dark out. Still no sign of Rick or Daryl or what we're going to do about the walkers. I anxiously bounced my leg as I grew impatient and aggravated.

A single gunshot rang out from outside. I stood up in an instant, looking at Denise terrified. She honestly looked the same.

A number of agonizing minutes passed before anything happened again. I wish I could say they were good things.

Rick burst through the door of the infirmary carrying Carl in his arms. He had blood running down his pale face and a gaping hole where his right eye should be. Oh, my God.

Rick was a blubbering mess. Denise was quick to tend to Carl's wounds as I handled his father.

"Look at me, okay? We're taking care of him, he's gonna be fine. Just breathe. We're here," I soothed.

Something changed in Rick after that. His eyes seemed to gloss over and he had a vengeful look in them. I'd only ever seen him like that after Lori died. He picked up a hatchet and left the infirmary, leaving me standing there speechless.

"Belle," Denise called to me, snapping me out of my daze, "I need you to keep pressure on this to help stop the bleeding."

I was quick to rush over to the boy, taking the blood-soaked cloth from Denise's hands. My Carl. My sweet boy.

"Stay with us, bud. Come on," I said. I really don't know how I thought it would help.

A lot of the rest was really a blur. I was crying while helping Denise with Carl. His breathing was steady the whole time which was a good sign. He's a trooper.

Once she had finished patching Carl up, Denise and I sat back. His blood stained our hands. I think I reopened the cut on my lip because it stung like a bitch.

"He's good," Denise told me. "He's stable. Just needs to recover and make sure his wound doesn't get infected."

I nodded and sniffled, wiping my runny nose with the back of my hand. My face hurts so much.

"Thank you," I said. I sounded so beaten down.

"Thank you," she repeated to me.

I pulled a chair up to the side of Carl's bed. His right eye was bandaged tightly and we cleaned the remaining blood from his cheeks. I had no tears left to cry. I folded my arms on the bed, gently resting against his legs with one of my hands atop his. I laid my head on my arms as my thoughts swarmed around my brain. Exhausted, the whirlwind of emotions put me to sleep.

***

I was unmoved when I woke up. Carl was still out above me and Rick was asleep in a chair on the other side of the bed. He was covered in dirt and dried blood.

I yawned as I sat up, though it was cut short due to my stitches. I winced at the pain before I stood. My hands still held Carl's blood, it was now dark and cracking. I gave the boy a kiss on his forehead before exiting the infirmary.

The sight outside was...I don't know what it was. Bodies of walkers were scattered across the streets, some were in piles. The smell was awful, to say the absolute fucking least. It didn't take long before I gagged and puked, further pulling at my stitches.

I stumbled my way home through the quiet streets, dodging lifeless bodies along the way. I could feel the cut on my cheek begin to bleed since I'd pulled at the stitches. I could not have honestly cared less about it.

Once home, I leaned against the front door. God, I'm fucking exhausted. Glancing around the small space, I noticed Daryl's bow wasn't where it should be. He's still not home. Where the hell is he?

I trudged my way over to the couch, flopping on top of it. I passed out again in an instant.

***

This time, I woke up in my own bed. I sat up quickly, confused as shit. Did I dream this whole thing? Feeling around my face, I quickly concluded that everything did, in fact, happen. I skeptically made my way downstairs, not knowing what the hell is going on.

Down there, I found Daryl in the living room. He turned and faced me, making no effort to move. He was off. Something happened.

"The hell happened to you?" he asked.

Of everything he could have said, he chose that?

"I could ask you the same question," I replied.

He didn't say anything after that. What was so urgent that he's hiding it from me?

"What happened?" I asked him, completely spent. "Y-you just...you just disappeared?"

"I got lost," he mumbled.

"You got lost," I repeated, not believing what he was saying. "You don't get lost, Daryl. And where's your bike? Where's your bow?"

"Look, it doesn't matter, alright? I got lost," he insisted.

"Bullshit!" I screamed as I hit the wall beside me. Daryl just stared. "What happened to you? You were fine before you left. And now...a-and now you come back without your bike and bow, not giving a shit about what happened to me, and you expect me to believe you got lost?"

"I do give a shit about what happened to you," he countered.

"Then where were you?" I asked slowly. Daryl just stared.

"I could have damn near died!" I yelled at him. "We got ambushed and I know it's not your fault but they tried to slaughter us. And they did!"

I could feel the blood oozing out from the gash on my cheek. I constantly kept seeing Daryl glance from that to my eyes.

"Before you left, you had the courage to ask me to marry you. I know something happened out there. If you don't want to talk about it right now, fine. But don't lie to me about it.

"I was scared shitless about what happened to you. You always answer. Look, whatever it was--"

"Nothing happened!" Daryl shouted at me.

"I know you, Daryl Dixon," I said calmly. "Next time you lie to me, I will throw this ring back at you."

"B," I heard Daryl call.

I closed the front door behind me as I walked back into the street full of corpses. He needs time. So, I went on my way back to the infirmary to get my stitches fixed.