Future Ghosts • TWD

128. Bullshit.

"Daryl, stop!" it was Ian's voice shouting this time. Rosie didn't know if she should've been shouting, too. She didn't know what to do.

"Please, Daryl, please don't kill me, please," the girl begged. She cried so hard it made Rosie's chest hurt. "Please. Please."

Before Rosie could think about what she was doing, she came forward and grabbed onto Daryl's arm, pulling it away from the girl's with all of her might. His grip must've already been loosening, or else Rosie wouldn't have been able to get him away from the girl, but when she did manage to pull Daryl away, the girl scrambled backward, hiding herself behind a chair. Daryl's attention was now turned towards Rosie. He looked so mad it made Rosie want to melt into the ground and disappear. He slammed the door to the cell shut and locked it before grabbing Rosie by the arm and starting to pull her up the stairs.

"Daryl stop! You're bein' an asshole!" Rosie said, her heart pounding as his grip on her arm tightened. She knew he would never hurt her- she knew that just as well as she knew her own name- but he could still be scary when he was angry. And right now he was fuming. He had already gotten himself worked up with the girl, and then Ian and Henry were shouting at him, and now Rosie was acting out. "You told me to call you out when you're bein' an asshole, and you're bein' an asshole! She's just a kid! She's scared!" Rosie shouted.

"That ain't your fuckin' problem! That girl ain't none a' your damn business!" Daryl shouted, releasing Rosie's arm and lightly shoving her backward. Rosie opened her mouth to argue, but Daryl wasn't having it. "What's your business is all the shit you been lyin' to me about! You think I can't tell when you're bullshittin' me, Rosie?!" he said.

"I'm not lyin' about anythin'!" Rosie yelled. But, God, it was lie after lie.

"You're full a' shit!" Daryl spat.

"Just 'cause you're pissed at me don't give you the right to go scare that girl like that!" Rosie said, trying to keep herself together. She felt like crying again, but she didn't want Daryl to know that. She wanted to be as tough as he was. "That's bullshit!"

Daryl huffed out a few heavy breaths, his glare as sharp as a dagger. "You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about, Rosie Dixon. I got other shit to deal with right now. You can come talk to me when you wanna start tellin' me the truth," he said before walking off, probably to go talk to Michonne and Tara about what the girl had told him.

Rosie down on her lip so hard that it drew blood. She wanted to scream at him, but she didn't. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and marched off to the gates of Hilltop. Since it was still daylight, the gates were open, which meant that Rosie was free to stay and go as she pleased. So that's what she did. She went out into the woods to take a walk. She wanted to calm herself down, because right now she felt almost every negative emotion she could think of. She was mad, sad, and scared all at once and was overwhelming. 

When she got far enough away from Hilltop that she was sure no one was going to bother her, she leaned up against a tree and began to fiddle with the velociraptor toy in her pocket. It was way too hot to be wearing this jacket, but she didn't ever want to take it off. Of course, there were times when it got too hot and she had to take off, but she didn't want to if she had the option to keep it on. It made her feel braver and stronger, and just better in general. But right now it was making her feel stupid, because she could feel that box of cigarettes beneath her hand, shoved into that pocket, and she was thinking about smoking one. That was a stupid thought and she knew that, but she couldn't seem to get it to go away.

So she pulled the box out of her pocket and stared at it. Maybe staring at it for a moment would make her remember how stupid it was. The box looked the same as it always did, just a little bit more crushed than before. She flipped open the top and counted the cigarettes left inside. There were thirteen left, which meant that there were seven missing. Rosie pulled one out and twisted it around in her fingers. Then she took out her lighter that said D.D. on it and lit the cigarette. She stared at the little circle of orange and sighed. She didn't want to smoke it. She wanted to, but she didn't want to. It was stupid. Why'd she light it? It was just wasteful.