HEART OF GLASS¹ ━━ the walking dead ✓

[ 041 ] justice for the brain-washed

Daryl gazed down at his hands ─ they were bound together with rope. He could feel his heart quicken with the realisation that he wouldn't be able to escape anytime soon. Rope was not as easy to break as duct-tape.

He lifted his head again, facing the chaos. The Governor paced in front of him, and then moved aside, giving Daryl a clear view of the opposing side of the ring. But he almost wished he had never seen what lay beyond.

Across from him, kneeling in the sand with her hands tied in front of her, was Sage Whitman.

Daryl felt his entire body freeze.

"A mute child," the Governor boomed. He pointed at Sage, before his finger quickly span around to Daryl. "And Merle's own brother!"

The crowd broke into murmurs.

Merle? They knew Merle?

Next to Daryl, in the ring, was the man himself. His brother. Merle. How had he not noticed him until now? The answer was fairly simple: he had been too caught up in adrenaline, that fear Merle ordered him to abandon a long time ago plaguing his mind. But how was he meant to stay calm in a situation like this? That was near impossible.

Daryl's heart almost exploded in his chest from the sheer amount of anxiety coursing through his bloodstream ─ he couldn't catch his breath.

Merle was alive. He had been betrayed; his supposed people turned against him.

There was a gun pointed at his brother's head. Daryl knew that somebody the Governor supposedly considered to be his lieutenant wouldn't be standing in the middle of a fighting ring, with a gun poised to blow his brains out. The sheer astonishment smeared over Merle's face backed up that point by a mile, too.

Daryl inhaled steadily through his nostrils. He turned his head back to Sage.

She was staring at the sandy ground, lips forming an O as she tried to breathe through a panic attack. Her cheeks were stained by remnants of tears, and she looked absolutely terrified. Even across the distance he stood from her, Daryl could see how much Sage's hands were trembling. Like leaves in the wind. He couldn't imagine the extent of her trepidation in that moment ─ she couldn't hear anything. Couldn't hear the Governor, or the roaring of the crowd, or the sound of guns being unholstered in every direction. Just her own thoughts, her own thudding heart. She could just see the unwarranted hatred the strangers held in their eyes when they looked at her. And she didn't know why.

Right then and there, Daryl decided he wanted to kill the Governor.

"What should we do with them, huh?" the Governor enticed.

He grabbed Daryl's arm and pulled him violently to his feet. Daryl almost fell, but managed to hold on at the last second and composed his footing in the sand. He swayed from side to side, his gaze flicking from Sage, to Merle, and to the Governor at such an intense speed he soon felt himself going dizzy. But he had to make sure they didn't go anywhere.

The crowd punched their fists into the air, crying out for bloodshed, "KILL 'EM!"

"FINISH THEM!"

A devious grin curled at the Governor's lip. There was a sick kind of glory imbued deep within his bones, burning through to meet his skin as if it were an acid eating away at every molecule of flesh. This is exactly what he wanted: his people pleading for justice. Justice for something that had never happened, against people who were innocent in everything but essential survival. Justice for the brain-washed.