All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 27

Chapter 26:

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t want to. I—“

“Stop,” he interjects. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“You sleep. I’ll take first watch,” he offers.

My head feels disconnected from my body as I rise to my feet. I stare at his body and the blood that surrounds it, thinking that I must still be confined in the barricades of a nightmare. My life can’t really be like this. I think of my life and the way it was a year ago. I was at school. My biggest worry was whether or not I was going to finish that paper for English 255 on time. Now, I stand here—hovering over a man who used to be my friend, someone who had my back, someone who had become insane because the trials of this world became too much for him.

“What if we become like that?” I ask suddenly. “What if you become crazy like that? I can’t kill you. I couldn’t kill you like that.”

Daryl’s eyes find mine and this simple gesture makes me realize that he’s been holding eye contact with me more often than he ever has in the past. But I can still see it. I see the pain in his gaze when he looks at me. I see that when he looks at me, he’s still not fully seeing me, but seeing her.

“I’ve already lost the person that meant the most to me,” he answers.

“What about Sam? What if you lose Sam?”

“If I lose Sam, I’d kill myself. You wouldn’t have to worry about doing that for me.” He adverts his gaze from mine and leaves the room. 

My memory reminds me when Daryl told me he’d never give up, even if he lost Sam. I wonder what’s changed. I wonder why now he’d choose to end his life if things got bad enough. The thought makes my knees weak. It makes my lungs constrict. I don’t know what would become of me if I lost him.

I continue staring out the window that’s in the living room, watching the sun as it peaks through the trees. Daryl stands in the front yard as he digs a grave for Glenn, while Sam runs around close by. I should go out there and join them. I should make myself useful.

There’s a lot of things I should do.

Instead, I keep staring out the window. I think I’m waiting for something. I think I’m waiting to wake up—to escape this nightmare that has become my life. I want to wake up in a world where the dead are the dead and the living are the living. I don’t think I’m asking for much.

Through the window, Daryl’s eyes meet mine. He motions for me to come outside. I groan as I rise to my feet, wanting nothing more than to stay motionless all day.

The cold air assaults my skin as soon as I open the door.

“What?” I say when I’m standing next to him.

He shoots me a look. “You do realize I’m crimpled and shouldn’t be doing this. Take the shovel and finish it,” he orders.

I realize that he’s right and take the shovel and start digging. My brain refuses to accept that this grave is for Glenn. Me driving the knife into his skull replays over and over again in my head.

“Should we talk about what happened?” Daryl asks. His eyes stay glued to Sam as he plays in the dirt near the sidewalk.

I stare at him. He wants to talk? Since when does Daryl want to talk?