𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]

[34]: liar

T-Dog walked past me to tell Rick and Lori they were here, whilst they parked their vehicles in front of the house.

My eyes stayed set on Daryl as he climbed off his Motorcycle, keeping his head down, so he hadn't seen me yet. Kicking the stand upwards, he finally looked up, instantly looking to the house, then to me.

His eyes held a confused and shocked look. He put his hand up to shade his eyes, wanting to get a better look. He went to step towards me, before spotting something behind me and turning to his bike.

I looked to my right and found Rick, Lori, T-Dog, Hershel, and Patricia emerging from the house. I kept my gaze away from Patricia, as to not make my skin crawl anymore.

Rick still looking slightly pale. I learned he had three blood transfusions last night, which is both a brave and stupid thing to do.

Everyone was silent as we started forming a small congregation in front of the Greene household. I wanted someone to say something so that I wouldn't have to deal with any more awkward silences anymore.

Dale was the first to speak. "How is he?" the old man asked, referring to Carl.

"He'll pull through," Lori answered, nodding happily. "Thanks to Hershel and his people."

"Marley and Shane too," her husband finished, looking at me for a split second.

I looked towards my partner in crime as he looked to me. His newly shaved head shining under the sun, and Otis' clothes hanging on his shoulders. We both held a secret together. His gaze was more of warning and mine held more fear of being uncovered. I looked back to the group, tucking my hair behind my ear, blinking away the burning feeling behind my eyes that was left over from hitting my head.

"We'd have lost Carl if not for them."

I felt about a dozen eyes fall on me, as they did to Shane. Dale, Andrea, Carol... and Daryl.

Dale stepped towards Rick to embrace him. Carol to Lori. Andrea to T-Dog.

I looked towards Daryl to see if he would, but he didn't. He kept his gaze strong on my eyes.

"How'd it happen?" Dale asked.

"Hunting accident," Rick stated, in a raspy tired voice. "That's all-- just a stupid accident."

'No, I'm the stupid accident,' I thought.

Hershel kindly asked all of us to attend the funeral in modesty, but he gave us a moment to catch up. I took this opportunity.

The hunter was kneeling over his bike... I never knew what he was doing with his bike or crossbow. Complicated stuff. Complicated man stuff. Daryl-man stuff.

Where was I going with this?

I carefully stepped towards him, and he saw me at the corner of his eye and straightened his back. He observed my face for a moment as he looked down to me and I looked up to him.

"Sit," he ordered softly, gesturing to the seat of his motorcycle.

"Why?-"

"Just," he said in a more stern manner, again tilting his head to the leather seat.

He stood patiently as I sat down and had to strain my neck even further to look at him.

In an unexpected twist, he took my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head upwards even more and to the left. He was looking at my wounds.

My breath hitched at the sudden contact, that I really wasn't used to anymore. If somebody held my face this way, it was usually to threaten me, to put fear in my head. I had never been held this way. At least, I didn't remember if I had.