Muted // A Daryl Dixon Fanfiction

•Chapter Seven•

M U T E D

Season 1

Bobbie's Point of View:

"We may disagree on some things, not on this. You put it down." Shane orders Daryl, but he remains frozen. "Go on." Shane orders. Daryl huffs and puffs before throwing the axe into the dirt and he storms off. 

I sat at the campfire, taking a break from dragging walker bodies to the burning pile. Daryl noticed me struggling with the heat and ordered me to take a break under the shade. He even made sure to get me water and told me to "stay put" til he was finished. I was in and out, watching him move around camp, pickaxing the walkers and dragging them to the burning pile. He comes to two walkers and pickaxes one before Carol walks over to him and she begins talking. I suddenly felt a little spark of jealousy before snapping out of it, shaking my head. She just lost her husband and she thinks she should be the one to put him down. Why was I jealous of her talking to Daryl about it? Jeez.

I avert my eyes away from Carol beating down on her dead husband, letting out all the pain, anger, every emotion Ed has put Carol through, out of her body.

A few minutes passes by. Carol and Dale joins the circle under the shade. I didn't say anything to them, mostly because I was relaxing. But as I was relaxing, I could see Amy's hands twitching. I furrow my brows, trying to think if I really saw Amy twitch, or I'm so paranoid that I'm seeing things. I soon found my answer when Andrea suddenly pulls Amy up to her body, hearing her growling and snarling for Andrea's flesh. I lift my hand up and grab Dale's arm, grabbing his attention. I couldn't keep my eyes away, but I just knew now that everyone was watching. I jump in my chair when the gun goes off, Andrea dropping her sister gently and continues to caress her now bloodied hair.

•••••
Daryl

I drag the last camper to the truck before picking it up and tossing it in the bed of the truck and closing the door. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and pull down the bandana from my face for more fresh air. I glance over to the campfire and see Bobbie balled up in a chair, fast asleep. I noticed earlier she was struggling to help out, with the sun beating down on us, I figure she should take a break before she passes out. I wanted her to stay hydrated so I made sure to give her water.

It feels weird, taking care of a girl who doesn't even speak, let alone I barely even know. Why am I even doing this? Why am I even bein nice to her. I don't know her, she doesn't know me. Why? I just don't get it. This girl just shows up to the camp and now I'm all over her? Helping her use her new bow, takin care of her, searchin through the walkers ambush to find her, to make sure she was alive and okay?

I don't know how...or even when. But every time I look at her or even talk to her...my heart goes wild and almost feels like I can't even breathe, I can't think, I panic, I always make sure I don't do anything to make myself look stupid, I even shower more than I did before, hopin I don't smell like sweat when I'm around her. I don't get it. I just don't get it. What's so special about her.

I drive the truck to the burial sight, seeing Rick and Shane talking. We were supposed to burn the bodies, not bury them. Burying is just putting someone down, layin them to rest when in this new world, we should burn them to keep the infection from spreading. We don't even know what this is, but it's airborne for sure. I climbed out of the truck and approached them.