Shortie || Daryl X Reader || TDW Fanfic

|| 1 ||

2 weeks since the outbreak.

Mom, Dad, they are both dead. Well, the whole world is dead as I speak, living dead actually. Dean is also dead, all because he wanted to be the hero. Sacrificing yourself when you are not really being chased by a herd and only by a few weirdos. 

Dumb ass... 

So now I'm all all alone, carrying a big ass machete, decapitating weirdos as I go.

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The blazing sun beats down on my bare back as I wash gallons of smelly blood off of my skin in a pond. Surrounded by what seems like endless forest, I kept my bloody machete on a rock in case some perverted weirdo decides to fall off the small hill at the shore and come try and make me their Sunday buffet. I finished rinsing my self, grabbed my machete and went to shore. I put my [ F/C ] tank top on and my jeans. I grabbed my duffle bag and slipped on my shoes and began my journey to no where. 

A couple hours after walking, my ears began playing tricks on me. Hearing things I thought I'd never hear again.

Voices

Actual human voices, not moaning from a weirdo, but talking! My uncontrolled joy got the better of me as it escaped from my lips.

"Hello?" I called out, voice sounding clearly desperate. I mentally slapped myself. But then the voices stopped. Now I was filled with curiosity. But curiosity killed the cat. I started walking slower and prepared myself to be attacked by what I thought were people. I looked all around, through the green trees and bushes when my eye caught sight of something. "Who's there?" I asked, more careful at sounding brave and confident. 'Show yourself!' I wanted to shout, becoming angry that I might be finally losing my sanity. "What's your name girl?" A voice asked. I froze.

"Not telling." I said. I began walking to the side to see what the tree in front of me was blocking. A man came into view, and actual man. I smiled but quickly stopped. His hair was black it seemed, and he wore a leather vest. In his hands, a beautiful crossbow, an arrow loaded and ready to shoot. "Who are you." Another man came into view. An Asian man wearing a baseball jersey, holding a hand gun. "Answer." The one with the crossbow demanded. I sighed. "[ Y/N ]. That's my name." I said. "Now tell me your names." I said.

They looked at each other then spoke, the crossbow one first. "Daryl Dixon." Crossbow guy said. I noticed his red-neck accent. "Glenn." The hand gun guy said. I smiled sarcastically. "Pleased to meet you, now what do you want?" I asked, gripping my machete harder, ready to attack what ever would come at me.

"We are taking you to our place." A voice said from behind. "Shane NO!" I turned around to another man, just in time to see him hit me with his shot gun over my head, followed by numbness. I feel myself fall to the leaf covered ground. My vision tries to focus but no success. 

I'm blacking out.

Daryl started pushing him as he and Glenn started shouting. Muffled voices.

Black.