A War On Her World | TWD: D. Dixon

Ch. 14

The voice got louder, indicating that the source was getting closer. I wanted to play it off as nothing, if not for my own peace of mind then for Beth's; the last thing she needed was more stress.

But when the indistinguishable sounds became clearly male -clearly Daryl's- my stomach dropped as the thought of Benji slid straight into the front of my brain. Pushing myself off the bed as quickly as I possibly could -which was hardly quick enough-, I excused myself with a reassuring smile. Hobbling out of the room, I winced as I stumbled down the stairs and through the house to the front verandah. It was there that I had just barely stopped myself from missing the bottom step and causing myself more harm.

Pausing in my haste I watched in horror, my jaw falling slack as Daryl met halfway with Hershel, an unconscious Benji in his hands. As he handed over my son to our doctor, I somehow was able to notice the many members of our group that stood gathered, watching the scene unfold before them.

"Wha' the hell's wrong with 'im!?" Daryl shouted.

Tripping over my own feet, I clumsily stumbled over to the two men, but by the time I made it to where they were, Hershel had already moved quickly towards the house to find out what was wrong. Daryl had gone to follow, but I blocked his path, grabbing his arm.

"What happened!?!" I demanded with fear lacing my tone. It seemingly only served to rile him up more, though, as he jerked away from my touch.

"Keep yer hands off of me! Boy jus' collapsed, like 'e couldn't breathe or somethin'!" He defended, biting his thumbnail out of nervous habit. It took far longer than it should have for me to catch on to what the man had unintentionally concluded.

Gasping, I tried to maneuver my way around him, whispering a near inaudible 'oh no' as I did so, but Daryl prevented me from passing by grabbing my upper arm firmly with his calloused hand. It was in a similar manner as I had done previously.

"Where do ya think yer goin'?" Daryl demanded.

I tried to keep going, but his grip prevented that; all I really could do was to get him to let me go somehow. Turning my head, I looked him in the eye pleadingly. I knew what was wrong and I had to do something -I had to get to the tent.

"Let go! I-I need to get Benji's bag... please..." I begged, trying to pull my arm from his to no prevail as my muscles seemed to work against me. It seemed that I caught him off guard because his face changed ever so slightly in shock and he gently let go of his hold on me.

Taking my chance, I made my way to the tent I shared with Glenn and hastily lowered myself to the grass as I unzipped the material. My body groaned with each unsavory movement, but I somehow ignored it, taking to crawling painfully inside. I threw off the contents sitting on top of Benji's bag as I proceeded to messily rummage through the small front pocket of it to find the object of my determination.

●

I was laying in bed next to Benji, he was curled up in my side looking smaller than ever.

Hershel said that he had to rest to help prevent another attack- the best way being to have him lay on his side. All I wanted was for him to feel safe, but it was hard when I couldn't even pick him up; when I couldn't even lay on my side and hold him in my arms because it hurt too much, and now so much more after the movements of earlier. I was stuck next to him on my back, my only solace was the warmth of my sweater heating and cooling with the moisture of his breath.

After the, in the words of Hershel, 'stunt' I pulled before, I was being almost forced into staying on bedrest. I knew that I needed it to heal quickly and help out with the farm, but the room felt empty- it was quiet and lonely.