ᴀɴɢᴜɪsʜ » ᴅᴀʀʏʟ ᴅɪxᴏɴ

{12} The Search For Sophia.

This heat. This damn heat.

Surely yesterday was nowhere near as hot as it is today. My white T clung to my body. Drenched in my sweat. Even with my hair up in a messy bun, my neck still feels sticky and gross.

I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, watching the back of Lori's head.

T-Dog and Dale kept behind on the road, just in case Sophia made her way back. T-Dog wasn't exactly in no position to be out here. He had managed to cut himself badly, to the point of needing stitches. Something no one can do or have the equipment for.

Those who did come along to help search for Sophia walked in a straight line.

Daryl, and Rick in the front. Jodie and I in the middle. Shane and Glenn at the rear. The others fit in between, protected by those with guns or /in our case/ bows.

Young Carl walked beside his mother, holding the arsenal with pride. His pale arms wrap around the object, struggling to keep up. While everyone held a grim look, Carl held a rather cheerful smile upon his chubby face. The little hope that still lingered.

"I spy with my little eye, something, green," Jodie says, swatting her bat in a soft motion. Pretending to hit an invisible baseball.

"Let me guess, the trees. The bushes, the grass. Pretty much anything plant life?" I sigh. Growing tired of this silly game Jodie insisted on playing to pass some time.

"Ah! Well done, you've guessed it yet again." Jodie rests the shaft of her bat against her shoulder. She winks at me playfully.

"I've been guessing correctly because that's all you've pointed out."

"Hm," Jodie tilts her head, "I spy with my little eye, Daryl Dixon," Jodie whispers Daryl's name, leaning into me as if his name is sacred and should not be heard by anyone else.

Gripping the strap attached to my quiver, I awkwardly peek at Daryl before turning my confused face back at Jodie.

"Don't give me that look. There is something there. I can't put my little finger on it, but it is there." Jodie says in a low whisper. Our shoulders bump into the other frequently.

"There is nothing there," I hiss.

"Don't give me that bullshit." Jodie snorts, "I'm not a child, I see what I see. He looks at you in a way dad used to look at mom. You look at him like mom used to with dad. You just want to deny this 'cause you're stubborn."

For a moment, I think about our parents before they fell out of love. Every time their eyes connected, it was - somehow beautiful. Pure love. Nothing I had seen in a long time. Yet, I can't imagine Daryl and I drooling over the other with puppy dog eyes.

"No, definitely not." I huff, pulling my attention on Daryl once more. "What happened with Shane? You thought something would happen between us."

"Nah. You don't look at Shane like you do with Daryl." Jodie attempts to run her fingers through her sweaty thick curls, cursing underneath her breath.

What can I say? I simply quiet myself to think. My eyes look forward as I try my best to keep Jodie from seeing the thought.

How do I look at someone like Daryl Dixon?

How much difference can I look at someone who made my skin crawl? The Dixon's meant nothing to me. Shallow, obnoxious, assholes they were. How could Jodie make the decision that I look at him differently compared to the others? She is wrong. Taking one more chance to see the back of Daryl, I squeeze my quiver strap once more.

Without warning, Daryl comes to a complete stop, raising his hand to signal everyone to stop as well. We do so just as quickly. Watching the back of Daryl's sleeveless shirt with caution, I lick my lips out of nervousness, tasting my salty sweat. With my bow in hand, I clip the butt of a single arrow on to the bowstring.  Tilting the weapon ever so slightly to keep the arrow in place. Readying my fingers, knowing if something were to come charging out. I'll be ready to drawback, and kill it without mercy.