Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Eighty: Aaron

•eighty•

Beatrix

I would say that it takes me around two hours to calm down from my meltdown. Well, at least calm down to the point where I can speak without screaming and snot flying from my nose. At this point, I'm still crying, despite me not having any idea how I even have any tears left in me.

It doesn't make any sense to me how evil the world can be. I always knew that one day I wanted kids, but I hadn't planned on having them anytime soon. Regardless of that, maybe if I would have known I was pregnant before I would have started taking more care of my body. Maybe I would have made sure we all had food and water. Maybe I wouldn't have joined Joe and his group at all. Maybe I wouldn't have gone down to join Rick at the prison when they showed up at all.

"This isn't your fault," Maggie grabs onto my hand, squeezing tightly. It's almost as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.

"I've probably had less than two thousand calories in the past week, Maggie," I speak, my voice hoarse from crying. "And barely any water. Maybe if I would have known—"

"What would you have done?" She asks rhetorically. "There's nothing you could have done, Bea. We had no food or water. That isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself."

"I need Daryl," I force my eyes shut and slam my hand backwards to the wall of the barn as another contraction pains my abdomen. "I'm so stupid, Mags. I looked at the IUD on my ultrasound. If there was a fetus in my uterus, I should have seen it. And I thought all of my abdominal pain and mood swings and dizziness and nausea was all because of hunger. How could I be so naïve?"

Before Maggie can respond, we can hear the barn doors open, followed by heavy footsteps and yelling. Daryl and Merle are back.

"Now you get your ass back in there and be there for your fucking wife!" Merle's voice is rough, yelling at his younger brother in front of everyone. "You don't get to run away anymore, Darylina. It's time to put on your big boy pants and take some fucking responsibility."

"Don't talk to me about responsibility," Daryl yells back at him, his voice threateningly low.

"She ain't just your wife, Daryl. She's my little sister, now, too. I don't give a fuck who you are, brother or not, if you abandon her again like that, I'll beat your ass into the ground," Merle's voice drops low to match Daryl's, and I can only imagine how pissed off they look at each other. "Get the fuck back in there and take care of your pregnant fucking wife."

With that, the stall door flies open and Daryl comes back in. His eyes are bloodshot and tear stained, his hair sticking to his face from being in the rain. He looks like shit. His head hangs low in shame as he drops is crossbow to the ground and makes his way back to me. I'm so mad at him I could die, but in this moment I don't care. I need him more than I want to be angry with him.

I throw my arms around him, hugging him as tight as I can before I let go again. Another round of sobs wracks through my body as he holds me close to his chest. This time, though, my crying is a lot shorter, because another wave of cramping hits me like a truck.

"Ain't we got something we can do for her? Meds to make her feel better?" Daryl pulls away to look between my two best friends.

"No, we don't even have an aspirin," Beth shakes her head at him. "She just has to go through it."

"God damnit," Daryl curses, finally sinking down to the ground beside me. "I thought you said you couldn't get pregnant? That you had an IED?"

"An IUD, Daryl. Not an explosive," I let out the smallest laugh of my lifetime before I have to explain what happened to him. "I was already pregnant then. We just didn't know it. I had to have gotten pregnant back at the prison, before Beth put it in. Putting an IUD in when there's already a developing fetus can be detrimental. On top of that, my body has been put through some pretty non-life sustaining conditions for a fetus. Between the beatings from Bob and Len, the lack of food, the psycho episode I had at Terminus, the wine I drank at the church, the general physical exhaustion I put myself through, pushing to kill walkers and walk miles a day, and the days without food and water, I have made the absolute perfect conditions for a fetus that is not compatible with life."