Both Eyes Open - Daryl Dixon (under editing)

Survive This.

(A/N: this is quite a long chapter, and it took a few hours 😓 but I'm quite pleased with it! The next chapter may be a lot shorter!)

Lara trudged through the muck and rain.

Through hail and snow.

Through scorching weather.

She walked and walked.

The soles of her feet were worn off of her. Her shoes had taken considerable damage, completely discoloured from their original black. Now they were dry and cracked brown with mud. She couldn't remember the last proper wash that she had. She couldn't even remember the last time she had seen her own reflection. She was sure she was not a pretty sight to behold.

She had lost weight, but gained some serious muscle mass, especially in her legs. Her face was thin, pale and gaunt. Her hair felt as if it had passed the grease stage, and was now just dry and broken on top of her head, in the same plait it had been in for the past three weeks since she last bothered taking time to fix it.

Her clothes were mud splattered and blood splattered. Scrapes and scuffs, rips and tears intensified her already apocalyptic appearance quite significantly.

She had still managed to keep hold of the duffle bag Beth had given her, with all her possessions inside of it, lacking somewhat in the ammo.

She still had her bow and arrows, whereas most of her major guns were stuffed in her bag, ammo-less and therefore useless. The last thirty houses she had ransacked were empty and useless. She could, however, always make more arrows.

One thing she was struggling with on a daily basis was the loneliness. It consumed her every now and then. It overwhelmed her. She hadn't spoken aloud since she lost the horse. She was afraid she might not ever speak to anyone ever again.

She had been sleeping rough, when she slept at all. She usually kept walking until fatigue hit her like a ton of bricks, and she had to hole up in an abandoned car or a house. On occasion she would haul ass up a large oak tree and sleep on one of the thicker high branches.

Her mindset was that at least it would be the fall to kill her.

It had been months. Months since she had left the farm. Months since she had sent everyone to the highway, away from the herd.

It had been months and she couldn't help but feel a little... betrayed? If they were still out there, her group, it was because she had told them all to go to the same place. She had told them an instruction so that they wouldn't split up.

And no one waited for her. All that was left for her was cracked white paint and two words on two car windows. Nothing more specific than "HEAD EAST".

She had done exactly as she had read. She had headed east. The only sign of life around was a burnt out fire in between broken down walls off to the side of a rode, where she had camped out one night.

She was sick of feeling watched all the time, everyday. In the group, she felt so much more protected. All alone, she felt so vulnerable. Not just to walkers, but to people too. She had almost happened upon a group of men, scrounging for supplies, who actively went out of their way to kill someone, because they didn't see use for them.

That groups leader, the 'Governor' they called him, was horrible. He was obnoxious, self righteous, arrogant, ignorant, and not fit to survive this world. Lara knew that someone would eventually take him down. Who would do it? Who knows. But it was just a matter of time.

Over the months out on the road, one key component kept her motivated to find the group, no matter how annoyed at them she was.

She knew deep down in her heart of hearts, she had to see Daryl. She at least had to know he was still alive. Otherwise she couldn't live with herself. In this run down, dead lump of rock called earth, he was the only thing keeping her sane. He was her one constant. Even if she didn't know why.