Protector (TWD fanfiction)

Chapter 9

„Hey." Daryl says softly to get the attention of the little girl that is fumbling with her nails.

Sam looks up briefly and goes back to look down on her lap.

"Look. We only-" he begins but stops short when he sees the packed backpack in the middle of the cell.

"What is this?" He asks her. He gets no response so he grabs the backpack from the ground and pulls out its contents.

"You were running away?!" He concludes when he sees that everything she owns is in the bag.

Sam stops fiddling with her hands and looks to the side.

"If all that shit didn't happen you would have been gone with the wind right now. Am I right?!" Daryl is pissed.

"I knew with Merle back, it wouldn't have been long before he would pop up." Sam speaks up for the first time since he stepped foot into her cell.

"And then what?" Daryl asks, slackly holding the half empty backpack in his hand.

Sam only shrugs.

"Then what, Sam?!" He grunts.

"I DON'T KNOW! GO ON WITH MY BUSINESS!" She snarls, this time looking at him dead in the eyes.
Her eyes are red and her pupils are blown wide.

"Why do you even care? I'm nothing to you." She breathes.

Daryls hand clenches around the fabric of the red ladybug backpack.
He walks up to her and sits next to her.

He takes a deep breath.

"I was around 10 years old. Merle was serving time...again..." Daryl begins and Sam listens. "My old man, he...couldn't find his lighter or something and totally los his shit. When I stepped into the room it reeked like a brewery and he was throwing stuff over. Then he saw me..." he continues to tell her. Even though she has no idea why he is telling her this stuff, she can feel uneasiness creeping up her neck.
"He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to where he was and yelled 'where is it?!'. I had no idea what he was talking about so he pressed the side of my head into the couch. I completely froze up when I heard him open his belt. And next thing I knew he was beating the hell out of my back, all the while his lighter laughed at me from the corner of the couch. Piece of shit was so piss drunk he didn't notice that he was sitting on it all this time." Daryl finishes his little story.

The cell is silent for a bit.

"Just cause adults failed me, it doesn't mean that I will let it happen right before my eyes. So all this hurt, all this rage you have inside, it doesn't matter. You can lash out all you want. You can swear, spit, bite, kick all you want...but you won't shake me off. Cause I know - I've been there and I know how it feels when everyone decides  that you're not worth it. I may be a lost case but you still have a chance, you're young and you got away. I won't let you throw it away." he finishes.

She lifts her arm and grabs his sleeve by the elbow.

Neither one says anything. There is no need for words, savoring each others presence is enough.

"Help me put everything back?" Sam asks after a while.

A small smile creeps on Daryls face and he nods.

They put everything where it belongs. When he takes the arrow he looks at her. He holds it out for her to grab and she gladly takes it.

With a smile she walks to where it originally was hung up on the wall.

"There, now it's good." She says fondly and Daryl ruffles her hair.

"You should change. Take a bath too." He tells her shyly, unsure if he'll embarrass her.