The Field Of War || Daryl Dixon

8. Goin' Back.

1993, 17 years old

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi, um, my dad is having an episode and he attacked me." Blair's voice comes out soft, almost difficult to hear. She doesn't know what to really say so she went for the more blunt route.

"Okay, are you hurt?" The operator asks.

"No."

"Where is your dad now?"

Blair wonders why this is important but answers anyway, "In his room. He's calm now. Probably asleep. He just needs help." Her voice shakes slightly.

"I know sweetheart, he'll get help. What's your name?" The operator's voice tries to comfort Blair. Just as a mother would. But the effort fails. All her voice reminds her of is her own mother. She's the reason Blair's in this position now. All because her mother decided to leave her father who just needed help. And she left her with him.

"Just get the cops over here. 3011 Henderson Road, that's my address. And preferably cops who won't beat the shit out of him, thanks." Then she hangs up the phone. She knows she shouldn't have. That probably breaks some rule she doesn't know about. But she just couldn't take any more questions from the nice lady.

Within ten minutes, two police officers show up at Blair's door with sirens going on behind them. The second Blair hears the sound, she rushes to the door and swings it open, walking on the cold grass barefoot. Which is how she walks everywhere.

The cops get out of their cars. They're both ridiculously tall compared to her. She won't admit it but that alone intimidates her slightly. She's never had to deal with cops before.

Blair quickly calls out to them before they get far from their cars, "Turn those sirens off!" She whisper yells at them. The two men look at each other confused. Blair rolls her eyes, "They'll set my dad off. Turn 'em off."

They surprisingly comply. Once the noise dissipates, Blair leads them into her house. They all make sure to be quiet.

"Alright, wanna tell me what's going on?" One cop asks. Though he's wearing a sheriff's uniform instead of an ordinary police get-up. She wonders why a sheriff who doesn't belong to Atlanta is working with the Atlanta police.

Blair points down the hall to a room, "My dad is sleeping in there. He has some sort of mental condition. He gets all paranoid and sometimes takes his fear out on me. He just needs help."

"What kind of help are you lookin' for?" The sheriff asks.

"What other kinds are there? I mean, I just put him in some mental hospital, and then he just stays there while the doctors help him," she tells him, not knowing how it works.

The cop speaks up, "Well there's all sorts of ways to help him. But tonight we can't really do much unless you want to press charges and have us take him in."

Blair's eyes widen, "What? Why would I press charges? Just help him. That's what y'all are here for. That's why I called. Not to put him in some jail cell."

"Hey, easy girl, we're just telling you what we can do." The cop tells her.

"Well if that's all you can do then you can go." Blair points to the door.

"Hey, hey," the sheriff steps in and softly looks at her, "I want to help you. I'm Deputy Sheriff, Shane Walsh. What's your name?"

Blair eyes him suspiciously, "Blair Woodley," she answers.