Saved

XLIX

"Mommy, wake up!" Dale called into my ear, and I could feel tiny hands shaking my shoulder frantically. I snapped awake suddenly aware that I had fallen asleep on watch, and that the firm body that had been resting against my legs was no longer there, and instead the small anxious face of my son was two inches from mine, and he was panicking. 

"Dale? What's wrong baby?" I mumbled, gripping his hands in mine so he would stop shaking me, but he didn't look any more comforted to see me awake. 

"Daddy is gone." He said quietly, and I was up before the words fully processed. Daryl's gone. Daryl's gone. I ran around the house like a woman possessed, trying to find any sign that he was still here, and our son had just... missed him, or been too afraid to search for him, but nothing. A set of clothes that we had taken yesterday was gone, and his crossbow was no where to be found. He was gone. 

"Dale? Baby?" I called, running back down the stairs to get back to my son, who I could hear crying from rooms away. When I found him, he was sitting on the couch, staring at the spot where Daryl had fallen asleep, like that would bring him back to us. If he left us, then we wouldn't find him. Just as I made myself impossible to find, so would he. But I just don't understand, I thought we were going to try and fix us... But... 

"Dale. Baby, listen to me. It's going to be okay. Can you go wash up for me? And then we can go find something for breakfast alright?" I said calmly, trying to calm the little boy who was breaking in front of me, but he didn't want to be calm. His angry blue eyes turned up to me, a glare covering them, and I knew I was about to get the brunt of his pain. 

"What did you do? What did you say to make him leave us? This is your fault! If you had been nicer to him he would have stayed!" He said, yelling at me in his tiny little voice, standing up on the couch so he would be taller, and even though I knew that he was angry, and that he was young and didn't understand, every word hurt me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could have done something. 

"Dale Dixon! You watch your mouth. You do not get to speak to me like that do you understand? Go upstairs and wash up. Think about what you said, and who you're upset with. When you've calmed down and want to behave properly, you can come down and apologize." I said firmly, glaring at him. He didn't back down, his glare remained in place and I could tell he was fighting every instinct in him to argue. But he didn't, he hopped down from the couch and ran up the steps, tripping over himself on his way up, and I think I heard him say 'shit' at one point, which was probably due to some of the men at the Sanctuary, but I said nothing. I just watched him go. 

When I heard a door slam, I knew it was safe for me to fall apart. 

I collapsed on the couch, burying my face into my hands I let the tears slip. Replaying every word I had said to Daryl since I had seen him again. Replaying everything I could have done differently. Every word that my son had spat at me like poison. Every word that Dale father, his real father, had said to me. How I was worthless. A burden. Maybe... maybe Daryl finally realized it? Maybe he thought this would be the easiest way. 

***Trigger Warning***

Two Years Before the End

"Hey honey, I made dinner at work, that's why I'm late, I'm sorry I didn't realize the time." I called, moving into the living room of Ashton's home. He had told me to meet him here at six, and it was edging closer to eight. I had missed nine phone calls, and ignored fifty-nine text messages during the almost two hours that I had been late, and to say that I was nervous was an understatement. 

When I finally walked into the living room, holding my glass container full of lasagna, I was met with a stony faced Ashton, glaring at me with his arms crossed, sitting on the coffee table, a thick black leather belt sitting next to him. My gaze locked onto it, fear driving my actions. I knew I would get in trouble for that too. He wanted me to look into his eyes, but whenever he left my punishments out for me to see, I could never contain my fear. 

"What were you doing that made you two hours late Riley?" He growled, rising to his feet and towering over me. 

"I forgot to turn on the oven when I was cleaning, I thought it was on, but it wasn't. I wanted to make sure dinner was cooked and I forgot to text you. I'm so sorry." I whimpered, backing up as he advanced on me, not even trying to hide my shaking hands I offered the dish to him. He snatched it from my hands, staring at it in disgust before lifting his judging eyes up to me. 

"What's in this?" He growled and I fumbled over myself to answer. 

"Hamburger meat, those sheet noodles, uhm... parmesan, mozzarella, ricotta-" He cut me off, a snarl transforming his face, and he looked less man, more beast now in the darkness of his house. 

"I hate ricotta. God. You're so fucking useless! You never show up on time, you never answer my phone calls, you can't even remember that I hate this fucking cheese! It's the only food I hate, and you can't fucking remember." Before I could shield myself, he slammed the heavy glass dish into my head, and I fell to the floor, darkness consuming me. But I could still hear him yelling curses, and I knew that when I woke up, I'd be cleaning up the mess of blood, lasagna, and glass that was no doubt littering the floor. 

I was so lost in my thoughts, that I didn't even hear the back door open. 

A/N: This was a really hard chapter to write. This was one of my stories. One that I've lived, so I know how... horrible it can be. I've said this a lot, but just as a reminder, anyone that needs to talk, I'm an open door, and an open book.