The Rift [Daryl Dixon]

Wishful Thinking

Maybe I didn't know these people. Maybe I didn't even know their names, but that didn't take away the fact that it was a terrible situation, and a part of me felt for all of the ones that passed and the ones that lost.

Carol, for example, had lost her husband, I think his name was Ed. I had seen him around camp, he never seemed to be willing to contribute to the team at all, if anything, he came across as a pain the ass, dead weight. Someone who thought they deserved to be served, and never felt the need to get their hands dirty whatsoever. Still, he was a father, a husband.

I watched as Carol made her wait to Daryl and I. Our conversation had paused after I confessed my feelings to him, to which he didn't know how to respond properly, so he just kept quiet and stared at me. I caught a glimpse of the recent widow dragging her feet towards us. She seemed tired and emotionally distressed, so I got up to my feet and met her midway. "Carol, are you all right?" I asked, highly concerned about the poor lady, who looked like she needed to release whatever emotion she was carrying inside.

"I need to see him..." She mumbled, her body shaking slightly under my touch when I placed my hand on her arm. "Can I see him?"

I nodded my head instantly as her distraught eyes locked on mine, pleading for me to take her to where the body of her late husband was. "Of course." I assured. In times like these I missed Sammy the most, he always knew how to deal with such stressful and emotionally draining situations. Out of the three of us, he sure was the most empathetic. He had this look in his eyes that made people open up to him so easily, trust him like they've known him for years. I was never like that, I was impatient and mostly driven by anger, resentment and the fear of losing someone I love. I was much more like Dean than we both cared to admit. Probably because I spent two years having him and dad be the only ones to influence me growing up after Sam left. Also because, after dad died, I found it very hard not to feel that way. Nevertheless, I made one drastic change after Jack came along, caring for a child means being patient and understanding. He brought the best of me without even realizing it, making me a much better person. Don't get it twisted though, I had attitude issues, but that comes with the whole Winchester package, it's in our DNA, and my patience had a limit, but it was still progress.

I led Carol to the front of the RV. Daryl's attention was already on me and he watched us stand next to him, our eyes searching for Ed's body. "Can I do it?" Carol asked, glancing down at the pick he was holding.

Daryl gave me a concerned glare as he held it tight. "You sure you want to do this? We can take care of it for you." I offered, but she shook her head as another sob escaped her lips. "All right, then. I'll be right behind you if you need anything." Daryl gave her the pickaxe, watching her cautiously as he stepped back.

"We need to figure out what we're gonna do with the dead girl." He whispered.

I was too focused on Carol to care right now. I observed her as she picked up the pickaxe and stuck the sharped silver part into Ed's skull, sobbing uncontrollably soon after as she kneeled down on the ground. "It's all right, Carol." I rushed towards her and help her up again. "It's over now."

🔯

After I got Carol to calm down I took her back to Sophia, the poor girl had just lost her father, she didn't need to see her mother like that right now. She was the only parent she had left, all she needed right now was the confort of her mother and the reassurance that she would be safe.

"The line's very clear." I heard Daryl shout. "Zero tolerance for walkers and them to be." I watched Carol crawl into the sofa in Dale's RV, now that their tent was a crime scene, and couldn't help but to see her daughter staring at me from the chair outside the vehicle, she seemed distressed, as expected, but I sensed there was more to that than the recent passing of her father.