speak ➵ bethyl au

2

"She's upstairs, she doesn't come out. Not even for food. Hasn't eaten in a week."
"She's probably embarrassed. Whole town knows."
"She should go, though. Nothing to be ashamed of."
"Yeah."
"We got Dixon a job there."
Silence.
"Not Merle. Daryl's harmless, he's just scary lookin'. But his uh..."
Everything after turned to whispers.

☔︎

She's staring at herself in the bathroom mirror and she feels pity.
Only after her wrists are fresh with blood, though.

☔︎

Maggie tells her through the locked door that they're going to the grocery store and if she needs anything.
Beth hesitates, but climbs off her bed and to her dresser, where a notebook lay. She quickly scribbled a grocery list that consisted of shampoo and bar soaps. She tore it from the notebook and slid it underneath the door.
Maggie quickly takes it, and seconds later Beth hears a sigh a frustration.
"Beth, you cannot hide yourself in that room forever. Everyone's supporting you." She stops, and adds, "That boy left town."
She doesn't reply.
"We're going out, so if you want to come out of your room while we're not here, we're leaving now."
Beth holds her breath, not making a move as she presses her ear to the door.
"Okay. Bye Bethy. Love you."

☔︎

They usually take twenty minutes when her father goes to the grocery store. He's very quick, eager to get home again.
She keeps this in her mind as she unhinges the lock and turns the doorknob.
She steps into the hall that led to the kitchen, where she'd plan to see an empty house.
But no, the sheriff was there. Staring at her. As if he'd planned this.
As if her father, Maggie, and the sheriff all joined together to plan this.
"Miss Greene, don't be alarmed, your family knows I'm here-"
"I just want water."
"You should eat something."
Beth furrows her eyebrows, taking a step back into the hall.
"I'm not hungry."
"Your father says you haven't eaten in a week and a half now."
She frowns.
"What day is it?"
"The 20th."
"Oh."
The silence is loud and awkward, and the sheriff decides to take matters into his own hands.
"You should eat."
"I'm not-"
"You're going to eat, or you're going back to the shelter. And you're staying there." The man urges.
"Then it looks like I'd better pack my shit." She hisses, turning on her heel to walk back to her room.

☔︎

He's feeling particularly bothered. With the chaos at the shelter and the demands that he stays working there, he doesn't feel as 'cool' as Rick claimed, helping people feel better.
No one really wanted him to help. He's too large and too scary, his temper is short and his patience is there with it.
So when Rick is ushering in Beth Greene herself, Daryl knows she'll reject the help she's already refusing.

☔︎

"He said you're stayin' here?"
"Mhm."
"You're gettin' a room and everything." He deadpans, leaning against the door frame.
"I'm not going to eat if that's what you're trying--"
"No, that's fine," he interjects. He's surprised she's even speaking. He'd deal with the eating situation later. "Just surprised you came."
"I didn't have a choice."
Daryl figures he should ask on, open her up so she gets out quicker and the whole drama in the quiet town would die over faster.
"And your sister? Your dad?"
"Happy as ever."
The whole time he's stood there, she's never looked up. She looks like a detective, going through every single thing in the tiny room.
He's about to say something, when she stops and stands, spinning to face him.
"It's empty."
He's taken aback, not by her sudden speaking, but by her actually facing him for the first time. It's not as awkward anymore, but at the same time, it got increasingly uncomfortable.
"What, the room?"
"Yeah."
"No one really stays." He looks down, suddenly interested in his dirty boots. "Just come in for appointments or whatever, but there's only a few other people who actually stay." He pauses, the glances up to meet her gaze. "I could talk to Rick--the sheriff. Get you some appointments and let you go back home."
She shakes her head.
"I can't breathe there."
Before he can stop himself, words are falling out of his mouth.
"I know what that's like."
Her eyes shift as she sits down on the bed.
"What do you mean?"
He's about to let everything go, reveal his scars and speak his sorrow truths, but he stops himself, as if what built up his walls is yelling at him to stop before he's attached, to someone up until recently was a stranger.
He says something about asthma, which is an utter lie, and she furrows her eyebrows and he thinks she's annoyed because she thinks he's mocking her. And he's not, and he quickly mentions that as she's standing up to shut the door behind him.
But what does he care? He's just trying to do his job.