Dark Intentions│Daryl Dixon✔️

T W O

I ended up falling down a drop off on my way back from my three day trip inside of the woods. I was covered in blood from killing the dead people and littered with bruises and cuts from my fall.

I dragged myself up the hill and onto my dad's farm. The camp set up between the trees near the house was new. There were tents and then there was an Rv and other cars parked near the two pecan trees. My eyes narrowed and I walked up to the camp to investigate.

Upon entering the sight, I spotted 3 women and 5 men. One was cleaning a crossbow, two were discussing something discreetly, and the other two were working on the Rv. Someone seemed to spot me and cleared her throat.

I could only imagine what I looked like. Frowning, covered in blood, my hair a mess..

"Callie! Oh! Callie!!" My mother came running frantically. So dramatic, she was, "Oh I was so worried! I thought you were dead!" She brushed my hair out of my face and began to rub dirt from my face.

"I'm fine." She continued to fret, "IM FINE!" I snapped. She pulled her hands away, her eyes turning to stone.

"What in God's name were you doin' our in those woods! You know it's dangerous. There's sink holes and snakes! We aren't rednecks and we don't hunt like animals! Collin got hurt just yesterday goin' into those woods! Remember? We ran him to the emergency room and he broke two bones! Two!" She snapped, gesturing with two fingers.

I sighed and looked at her solemnly. It was about to get ugly and she would put up a tantrum. I rested my hand on her shoulder gently, "Momma, you're thinkin' of a time long ago. Collin's dead. It's not January anymore, Momma."

"What? No, Julian and I went to get our hair done two weeks ago and-..."

"Momma, look where we are. We ain't in Texas anymore. We're in Georgia, on Hershel's farm." I told her.

"That horrible man that got me pregnant and left us?!?!" She shouted. She seemed to snap out of her daze then and looked around. Her eyes brimmed with tears, "No..." She whispered, "No!"

"Momma-, stop!" She started to thrash and flail and scream, "Momma! Stop it!!" I shouted.

"You're such a failure! Get off a me!!!" She slapped me in the face but I kept a firm grip on her, "Stop it! It shoulda been you! It shoulda been you, Callie!!!! Why wasn't it you?!?!" She screamed.

"You need help?" Maggie called.

I grunted when momma hit me again, "Nah! It's okay! I've got He-," she knocked me in my jaw and I stumbled back. Maggie ran forward, "Maggie! You know she only calms down with me! You'll only make er' worse!" I shouted and grabbed my mom's forearms. She dropped to her knees in defense and I quickly wrapped my arms around her. She sobbed and cried and repeated the word 'No' over and over again.

Eventually she calmed down and I knew what came next. She pushed me away and slapped me once. Twice. And I let her. Then, she left.

I looked up at Maggie, my ass still hitting ground. Her hands were cupped around her mouth and she looked at me with sorrowful eyes. I didn't dare turn my eyes towards everyone else..

I got up, brushed myself off, and left for the barn.

The dead people wouldn't do anything but eat me. I let my legs dangle over the side of the loft and just sat, watching the dead reach for me again. Endless, hungry eyes that begged for me to just jump and end my misery.

So many times I'd thought about it. Just let it bite you, my mind would tell me,what's left for you here anyway? Just jump in!

Jump in. As if they were a large pool of water. I used to go down to a pool of water with someone I cared about. That pool of water was our release. This pool of water that consisted of rotten jaws and hungry eyes could've also been my release—my way to join that person that would join me in the once upon a time pool.

It would've been so easy to just let myself slip from that loft. It was such an easy action and yet, I couldn't perform it. Something held me back and I wasn't sure exactly what it was. My mother? The endless hunger in myself that wanted to make both my mother and father proud? That was wishful thinking. I wasn't aloud to call Hershel dad and my mother was a half-lunatic—sometimes staring at and talking to something that wasn't there. The other half of her mind would allow her to be in the present.

She would continue to torture me with love she could never give. No, that love had been saved for someone that was gone now. I had never been the ideal daughter.

I kicked at a dead person's hand and the thing went flying off. I blinked before pulling myself to my feet. I walked down the latter and disappeared into the house, locking myself in my room.