FALLEN ANGEL ➵ DARYL DIXON [1] ✓

Preface

"Dun, dun, dun...DUNNNNNNNNN...dun, dun, dun...DUNNNNNNNNN. Little pig, little pig! Let me in! Or I will shut that shit down!"

Daryl feels his head getting sore just by his loud voice. The repetitive annoying song comes to an end when the devil dressed in his typical black leather jacket walks into Daryl's cell. The door opens with a loud squeaking noise and the light blinds him, squinting his blue eyes.

His brown wooden bat with barb wire was placed over his right shoulder (which had a name but Daryl couldn't even rememeber his own name at this point nevermind that) and he was leaning to the same side, cocking his head... Smiling. His red scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck like a poisonous rattle snake. Oh how Daryl would love to strangle him to death with it. He kept staring at Daryl with that cynical smile. Only hours ago, his men took his lover away, threatening to slice her throat. Now, Daryl was in a cell, naked, no idea where she was or how to escape. He only hopes that they didn't hurt her and she wasn't too far away.

The dark, cold damp cell made Daryl insane. The devil's face was a blur, but his voice gave him goosebumps.

He didn't want to admit it...

But he was one hundred percent terrified of this man.