𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑟

The boy let out a pained cry as Daryl's fist collided with his cheek. "I told you, man, I don't know anything!"

"You told me jack shit!" Daryl spat. The shed that the boy was in smelled of mildew and old wood. It wasn't the ideal conditions for someone recovering from being impaled by a fence post, but Daryl thought that the boy should be grateful he wasn't chained up outside instead.

"I barely knew those guys. I met 'em on the road," Randall whined. His face was marked with various cuts and bruises.

"How many in yer group?"

The young man stayed silent and shook his head from side to side. Daryl snatched his newly sharpened hunting knife from his back pocket and lunged for the boy, pressing the side of his blade onto the injury.

"No, no, no, no, please!" Randall begged.

"How many?!" Daryl leaned in closer and shouted in his face, watching as several tears began to fall down the boy's cheeks.

"Uh, 30. 30 guys!"

"Where? You plan on staying local? Scouting?" Daryl pressed the boy.

"I don't know man, they left me behind!" Randall's voice cracked with every word that he spoke as if he were an upset child throwing a tantrum.

Daryl took the tip of his knife and placed it onto the end of the grotesque scab on Randall's leg.

"Okay! Okay! We never stayed in one place long, just sorta drifted around. They have automatic weapons, you know, that heavy-duty shit. But I swear man, I didn't do anything wrong! They left me!" The boy sounded winded as he spoke, tired from the brutal interrogation.

"Your boys shot at my boys, tried to take this farm, and you just went along for the ride. You trynna tell me that you're innocent?"

"Yes!"

Daryl was growing tired of Randall's behavior. The boy was just making things harder for himself. If he were smart, he would've cooperated from the start.

"These people took me in. Not just men, it was a whole group of them with women and children. Just like you guys. I thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know?"

Daryl brought his knife away from Randall and stood up, giving the boy a chance to tell the truth.

"We'd go out and scavenge. Just the men. One night, we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters. Teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute."

Daryl stopped in his tracks and turned his head to look back at the boy. He could see a hint of guilt present in the young man's eyes.

"Their daddy had to watch while these guys, you know, did stuff to his girls. And they didn't even kill him afterward. They just made him watch," Randall trailed off and a glazed look washed over his face.

Images of Charlotte swarmed Daryl's mind. He could almost still feel her soft hand underneath his calloused one as he pushed it away, insisting that she accept his knife.

When he was a child, Daryl would play with the other boys in the neighborhood. They were more Merle's friends than they were Daryl's, but they always tolerated his presence as long as his brother was around.

On many occasions, Daryl would witness the other boys walk up to a random flower and step on it, dragging it through the dirt with the bottom of their shoes. They did this simply because they could, because the flower was pretty and vulnerable, and destroying things brought them some sort of satisfaction. Charlotte was a flower, and the men that Randall spoke of wouldn't hesitate in tearing her apart.

✯✯✯

Daryl walked back to the group awaiting him by the campsite with his knuckles busted and bloodied.

He searched for her first. His eyes found her leaning against a nearby tree next to Glenn, looking distant and stoic. She didn't notice Daryl until Glenn nudged her arm and directed her gaze to the front of the group. She met his gaze at first but then let her eyes fall to his hands. Daryl quickly looked away and turned to Rick.

"The boy's got a gang. About 30 men. They got heavy artillery and ain't looking to make friends. They roll through here and our boys are dead," Daryl warned the group. "And our women––they're gonna wish they were."

"What did you do?" Carol's gaze also flickered down to Daryl's hands.

"We had a little chat," Daryl shrugged.

"No one goes near this guy," Rick ordered the group in attendance, a grave look already present on his face. "He's too dangerous to keep around. We have no choice, we have to eliminate the threat."

Daryl watched eyes widen in shock at Rick's words. Carol put a hand over her mouth and looked to the side.

"You're just gonna kill him?" Dale said in disbelief.

"It's settled. I'll do it today," Rick announced. Before anyone could say another word, Rick spun around and walked off.

Once he was well out of earshot, various people began to mutter and whisper things to each other. Daryl didn't care what they were talking about, and he wasn't going to stick around to find out. He glanced over to her and found that her eyes were already carefully watching him. She quickly looked away and muttered something to Glenn.

The adrenaline from Randall's interview was starting to wear off and the pain in Daryl's hand was starting to make itself known. He switched his crossbow over to his left hand and walked off to find something to clean his knuckles with.

✯✯✯

Daryl was attaching several hand made arrows to the side of his crossbow when he heard a pair of footsteps approaching his camp. He turned his head and found Dale strutting with determination, visibly tired from the walk over.

"The whole point of me coming up here is to get away from you people," Daryl scoffed loudly.

"Gonna take more than that," the older man said with a small grin.

"Carol send you? I'm not in the mood to get my head shrunk," Daryl stood up and inspected the fletching of one of his arrows.

"Carol's not the only one who's concerned about you, about your new role in the group," Dale said to him.

"Oh yeah? And who's that?" Daryl asked sarcastically.

"Charlotte."

Daryl clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply.

"I've seen the way you two look at each other when you come around the house," Dale said.

"How 'bout you stay outta my business?" Daryl snapped. He knew what his brother would have said to him at that moment. "Look at you, little brother, she's got you by the balls!"

"Why're you really here? Every time one of you comes 'round it's 'cuz you need somethin'," Daryl frowned.

"Well, uh, I came to ask you if you'd be willing to defend Randall. You know, save the kid's life?"

"Nah, I'm good," Daryl answered spitefully. He didn't want anything to do with that boy.

Dale sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Why do you act like you don't care about anything?" he asked sincerely.

"'Cuz I don't. This group's broken, I'm better off fendin' for myself." Daryl snatched up his crossbow and slung it over his left shoulder. His right hand was still aching from the beating he gave Randall.

"So, you don't care about Charlotte? Or Carol? What happens to them doesn't matter to you?"

Daryl clenched his injured first and ground his teeth together.

"That kid and his buddies are nothing but a bunch of rapists and killers. People like that don't change. Ever." Daryl took a step closer to Dale and looked him straight in the eyes.

"And yer' a damn fool if you think otherwise."

✯✯✯

(𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 11/4/20)