Barely Surviving // TWD // Daryl Dixon #Wattys2016

Chapter XII -- Guilty Conscience

"Sometimes its hard to tell how fast the current's moving until you're headed over a waterfall"

- Kimberly McCreight, Reconstructing Amelia

I was standing right in between Daryl and Beth in front of the three freshly done graves. I didn't want to come because it would make everything more real but somehow I ended up here. I knew Sophia would like me to be here so I eventually agreed to come.

Daryl had a hand rubbing my back in a comforting way, I wanted to hug him but I was paralysed, I could just stare at the littlest grave in front of me, trying hard not to fall down on the ground, my legs were shaking but I refused to fall in front of so many people.

I hadn't cried since Daryl took me to the RV, like if I went numb but right now I was close to break down again.

Soon, the funeral was over and everyone started to walk away in silence. Daryl walked away in the other direction, probably needing some time alone. He had comforted me when I needed him the most, he hadn't mourned her, so I was going to give him some time to do that.

I felt thin arms loosely wrapping around me then, it was Beth. I took a deep breath as I wrapped my arms around her as well. Jimmy was rubbing her shoulder on her other side.

Slowly, we made our way back to her house, to her room. We both had lost someone really close to us today and we needed each other.

Beth told me I could lie on her bed so we both got under the covers and lied down and for the second time that day I broke down. She lost her mother and half-brother, I lost my little sister.

I couldn't fall asleep, I closed my eyes trying to fall asleep and get away from reality but I couldn't. My head filled with memories of her and me, some good, some bad, some happy and some sad. Some were from several years ago and some were from only a few days ago, some even just moments ago.

I remembered when I was six years old and I was told that I was going to be a big sister, I couldn't admit it then and I couldn't admit it for a long time but I was jealous, extremely jealous. I didn't like the idea of having a sibling, I had friends with older and younger siblings and I just thought it was way better to be an only child.

When Sophia was born lots of relatives came to meet her. They bought her lots of toys and some gave me presents too but they weren't here for me. I noticed my mother barely paid attention to me, my father even went to stay with a friend at nights. I wasn't sure why that was but it was because he wanted to sleep and not be bothered by Sophia several times every night.

I felt jealous for a really long time until I just got used to the idea of having her around. I would get jealous from time to time but it wasn't a constant feeling. I actually got to love her and I enjoyed spending time with her. It was fun to tease her and tickle her, it was also fun to take advantage of being the older and ordered her to clean my room or do stuff I had to do and of course, just having her company was nice.

I remember one time when one of my favourite dolls broke, I was around ten or eleven, and Sophia gave me her brand new doll. I never played with it, I kept it untouched on my night stand. Even when I stopped playing with toys and got them all inside bags to get rid of them, I kept that doll. When I moved to New York I took the doll with me and put it on my night stand.

I also remember when we went on a trip to Florida to visit some relatives and how much fun we had on the beach that time.

I also remember the day I packed my things and told her I had to leave. She cried and begged me to stay, which broke me, but I had to get out of there. She was so mad at me that she didn't speak to me in six months.