Cult » Daryl Dixon

twenty four

"You hurt," he asked, looking me over frantically. Once he realized what he was doing out of loving habit, he let go of me. He let out a disappointed huff. "The hell'd you leave for? You can't do that shit."

"He was gonna kill us; he was gonna kill me," I whispered, letting out a sickly cough. Daryl fumbled for his bandana and tied it around his face like he did last night. I clutched my stomach, continuing to cough. I eventually keeled over and vomited in the grass. Daryl gently wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing the red rag he kept in his back pocket to my mouth. He carefully dabbed my lips, freeing my mouth of any left over spillage. His gentle touch surprised me. It made me feel safe. He grabbed my hand, slowly walking me back to the cellblock. 

Upon entering the prison, Daryl led me into a more deeper, darker block. 

"Where are we?" I asked him, confused at our whereabouts. Daryl kept quiet, opening a door. The sound of coughing suddenly filled my ears. People were in cells all over the place, hacking and rolling around in pain. My eyes widened in shock at the sight while Daryl opened an empty cell for me. I stared at him, tears pricking my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak but he already knew what I was gonna say.

"Just until you get better," he said softly. "I'll check on you a little after sundown, talk to ya through the window." He awkwardly pointed towards the large window on the wall overlooking us.

"W—what if I can't hear you?"

"It'll work just fine, promise," he concluded before brushing his fingers against my hand, his face lightly shaded with a tiny hint of red. He exited the room, locking me away with a bunch of diseased people. A lot of them looked like they were dead, lying on their beds motionless. I sat down on my bed, glancing over at the person in the cell next to me: Glenn.

"You got it too," he asked.

"I guess," I sighed. "How long have you been in here?"

"A day." Glenn wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "These people were already in here. I'm not sure if some of them are gonna make it out."

"Why? It's just the flu," I mumbled. "It'll pass."

"You haven't heard," he whispered, putting his face up to the bars. "People've been turning from this. We could be next. Anyone could be next."

"What," I whispered back, anxiety beginning to set in. "I can't die from the damn flu. I don't wanna die." I coughed as I finished my sentence. It felt like someone was sucking the air outta my lungs. The door opened, Hershel stepping in with a cart of medicine. He had a bandana around his face just like Daryl did. He handed me a small cup of medicine and continued on down the line. I downed it as soon as I grabbed it, hoping it'd set in right away. I laid back against the bars, relaxing and closing my eyes.

Once nighttime rolled around, everyone in the room was knocked out except for me; the pains in my stomach kept me up. A knock on the window startled me. It was followed by a distant voice.

"Aften," it said quietly, yet clearly. I rose to my feet, shuffling over to the window. A small light illuminated Daryl's features, making my heart flutter. "It's me."

"Hey," I said back with a small smile, my voice shaky. Daryl set the lantern he held on the windowsill.

"Hey," he muttered back. An awkward silence swept over us as we stared at each other through the dirty glass.

"I-it's really hot in here," I stated to break it. "I think it might be making me feel worse."

"I'll fix that before I leave in the mornin'," he promised me. "We're gettin' low on medicine. Gotta go out, get some more."

"By yourself?"

"Mhm."

"Be careful," I told him sincerely. "There could be more of them out there, my dad's people."

"I will." Daryl's voice was laced with sleep.

"You sound really tired," I said. "You know you don't have to keep talking to me; you can leave if you want."

"I'm stayin'," he fired back. I smirked, blushing.

"If you're leaving tomorrow morning, you should get some sleep," I suggested, restraining a full blown smile. Daryl was quiet for a moment.

"I'll go if you sing," he said, leaning up against the wall. I bit my lip, stifling a laugh.

"I guess I can try for you," I sighed, briefly looking at the ground.

"Sing a lullaby," Daryl requested.

"Why? So you can try to fall asleep standing up," I chuckled, poking fun at what he'd said to me a few nights ago. I could see him smirk. My stomach flipped at the sight. I quickly pushed away the jittery schoolgirl feeling, clearing my throat.

"Stay awake, don't rest your head.
Don't lie down upon your bed.
While the moon drifts in the skies, stay awake, don't close your eyes.
Though the world is fast asleep,
Though your pillow's soft and deep,
You're not sleepy as you seem.
Stay awake, don't nod and dream.
Stay awake, don't nod and dream."

Daryl softly sighed on the other side of the glass. I placed my hand on the window as a subtle sign of flirtation, the glass cool against my warm sickly skin.

"Goodnight," I smiled, my heart beating rapidly at his mere presence. He lifted his hand and put it up to mine, his fingers moving as if he was touching my skin soothingly.

"Night," he whispered. We held our hands there for a moment, lingering in the mere affectionate feeling before taking them down. Daryl picked up the lantern and shuffled away. I stood frozen in my spot, reveling in the moment that had just occurred. I attempted to shake it off, struggling to walk back to my cell and wipe the smile off my face. I flopped down on the bed, letting out a few wheezy coughs as I closed my eyes and fell asleep within minutes.