Surviving .:Daryl Dixon:. {Wattys2015}

Chapter 6: A Piece Left Behind

I wrapped my fingers around Glenn's arm, knowing that sometimes I could get a bit of security with him. He might have thought he isn't much, that he isn't brave, but he is.

Glenn didn't turn his head, I felt his eyes glimpse onto me and back to Daryl.

Daryl was sweating buckets, gallons. His sandy brown hair was matted to the sides of his face, his face was all pink and sweaty, his eyes were squinting. His breathing sounded like a mixture of frustration, sadness, and whimpering. It's difficult to explain his cries.

It was still silent, the crossbow slightly shaking as Daryl kept glaring at T-Dog. The sound of the wind crying out was evident, it's what made it even more intense.

The fact that we could stop and hear the wind while Daryl decides if he wanted to pull the trigger out not, made it more thick.

"I won't hesitate," Rick said, finally breaking the silent barrier between them. The tension was thick, bitter and hot. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

Daryl kept blinking his eyes, the frown becoming deeper onto his face while the crossbow shook in defeat. He closed his eyes in pain and lowered the crossbow and kept his head down. He knew he had no choice, there wasn't one. Unless he wanted his death wish to be killed by smelly corpses.

T-Dog sighed, kept his stern look onto Daryl while he waited for Rick to say anything else.

Daryl slowly shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable by T-Dog's stare. He kept blinking his eyes, making the tears go away so nobody would say anything. He sniffed, his face going stone cold as he hid his emotions. "You got a do-rag or something?"

It was silent, T-Dog looked at him with a face that didn't seem too sure, before digging through his large pocket. He kept his eyes on Daryl as he handed him a blue rag, Daryl took it without any type emotion. Not exactly tearing it away from him, but it wasn't a gentle touch.

Daryl shook the rag, getting off any dust or dirt, but not by much. He set down his crossbow as he slowly neared the grey, revolting hand. The smell of decay was very strong, coming from such a small little thing.

Daryl shook the rag several times before sighing and gathering up his breath. He bent over, spread the rag out, the blue was bright, along with the white designs.

Glenn started to walked forward, watching closely in disgust, knowing that Daryl had balls to pick up that thing. It had a revolting stench, it was grey and bloodied and I wondered how he was managing to keep from puking.

"I guess the, um," Daryl said, his voice slightly breaking, "the blade was too dull for the handcuffs." I cringed as he picked it up, grabbing it by the pinkie finger. "Ain't that a bitch?"

He set it down onto the rag and breathed out, he gently wrapped it up, stood up and glanced among us. His eyes landed onto Glenn, Glenn's face dropped even more as he realized that Daryl was going to put it in his bag.

Daryl opened Glenn's bag while Glenn closed his eyes in disgust. Glenn kept his eyes closed, disgusted by the hand. It was good thing he didn't think of putting it in my bag. I would have argued with them.

"He must have used a tourniquet, maybe his belt." Daryl observed the dry blood. "Be much more blood if he didn't." He rose the crossbow and began to follow the blood drops trail.

Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn glanced at each other, deciding what to do. We wouldn't have much time to actually discuss, Daryl wasn't one to be patient, especially if it was his brother.

T-Dog walked over to collect Dale's stuff, a tool bag had been dropped and tools were spread out.

I turned my head towards Glenn. His expression was filled with disgust and terror, if you were to look closely. I nudged him, he quickly nodded and followed after Rick.