BLACK

Episode 8: I Might Be Dead

I HAVE DECIDED THAT ALL BLACK UPDATES WILL OCCUR ON TUESDAYS (AND SOMETIMES FRIDAYS) THIS IS EASIER TO FIT MY SCHEDULE.

This is a special chapter. I think it's funny that my special chapter fell on my favorite number but that's beside the point. Anyways I put this chapter in (mainly for fun) because I know that for the fans of TWD a lot of what I've written is predictable. You've seen the show, so you know what is generally gonna happen so here's a little twist for y'all. Just because it seems random though don't think I haven't soaked this chapter in hints and plot development. This might've been my favorite chapter to write so far, but it's probably actually the most important yet.

So enjoy and tell me what you thought in the comments, like always I have the links in the comments of all the pictures and you might wanna check it out since this chapter is a little...strange.

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A sigh slipped through your lips. You were in a soft bed. Warm sheets wrapped around your body as early morning sunlight danced across your closed eyes. There was no pain, no ache. Something shifted beside you as a warm hand brushed against your bare stomach and rested on your back. The hand pulled you closer. Your eyes opened groggily.
Fast asleep beside you was Daryl. It was the cleanest and most relaxed you had ever seen him. He wore no shirt as he pulled you close to his bare chest. The scream that erupted from your lips was probably close to breaking windows. Daryl's eyes shot open as you scrambled backwards. The end of the bed came quickly and you fell off landing on your back.
"Aj!" His voice called out as reached out with his hand in an attempt to catch you. When he missed he threw his legs over your side of the bed and pulled you up into a seated position. All he wore was a pair of white boxers. "What the hell's gotten into ya, lass?"
Your face paled, "Why do you have an Irish accent!?"
Daryl stared at you in confusion while you did the same to him. Why were you asleep in bed with a half-naked, Irish accented Daryl? He shook his head.
"What is going on with you? Is this some kind of joke?"
You couldn't even focus on what he was saying. With every word that fell from his mouth all you could think about was the fact that he sounded Irish. Not like a redneck faking an Irish accent, but a true man from Ireland.
You tore your eyes from him and glanced around. The bedroom was small with dark wood floors, navy walls, and matching dark furniture. There was the queen sized bed you just rolled off of, two small dressers on each side and then one larger dresser with a mirror connected to it. You glanced down at yourself to see you only wore a baggy shirt and underwear.
"Where are my pants?!" You cried and scrambled to your feet. Daryl shook his head and stood up. Your eyes darted across his chest and arms to see a variety of tattoos and scars.
A black picture of Mary Magdalene on the left side of his neck, the word 'Noah' in cursive on his chest over his heart, a shield knot on his left thigh, a Celtic cross on his right forearm, and the word 'AEQUITAS' on his right index finger. You hadn't seen Daryl shirtless before, but you knew he didn't have any tattoos on his arms, fingers, or neck.
"Shit", He said as he noticed a small clock behind you. Daryl grabbed a handful of clothes before walking back to you, "Why don't you just get yourself a cup of coffee, hmm? I need to get ready for work."
Daryl leaned forward and pressed his lips against your temple before going through a door on the side that led into a bathroom. You stood there frozen.
"What the hell is happening?" You whisper yelled as panic welled up in you. You rushed toward the far wall where a window was and pushed back the thin curtains.
You were on the third story of a red bricked apartment complex. The street was filled with people walking a scars driving. A Laundromat sat across the street accepting business and beside it was a fully functional pizza shop. There were no walkers and the street didn't scream post-apocalyptic war scene.
You stumbled out the bedroom door into a small living room. There was an old couch seated across from a TV. Pictures of you, Daryl, and others you didn't know hung on the wall. You stepped into the open kitchen and leaned against the counter. The sound of a door opening alerted your senses. Seconds passed before a familiar face stepped into the kitchen. She wore a white blouse, jeans, and boots with a leather jacket over it all. Her long brown hair was braided back neatly. She jumped when she saw you standing there.
"Aj what are you doing? We're going to be late."
"M-Marie?" You questioned. "You can't be Marie."
"You're not even dressed and your hair-well your hair looks like you had fun", Marie shook her head and dropped a to-go bag in front of you and grinned, "Long night with Murphy I see."
"Murphy?"
"You know the sexy Irish man you'd rather spend all day in bed with than go to work with your best friend. You'll be married to him in a month. Speaking of which, did you ever get your ring back from the jewelers?"
You held your head with your hand. Your deceased friend was telling you that Daryl was Murphy? Or Murphy was Daryl? Or Murphy was a Daryl look alike?
"What the hell is going on?!" You cried. Marie jumped at your outburst.
"You feeling ok, friend?"
"Where are the walkers?" You breathed, "It's supposed to be the end of the world!"
Marie's face fell. She took a step forward and gathered you into her arms. You buried your face into her neck despite yourself. This you remembered. Marie was your best friend and when she died...
"It was just a dream, honey." Marie rubbed your back, "I thought you had stopped having those dreams a long time ago."
"Dreams?" You mumbled.
She pulled back but kept her hands on your arms, "The nightmares where you're stuck in the end of the world. Where dead people come to life and eat others. The one where you can't remember anything and some sheriff pulls you out of a car accident."
You couldn't speak. You could barely breathe. Marie pulled you over and sat you down on one of the tall bar chairs. She then took a sandwich out of the to-go bag and placed it in front of you.
"Eat up. I'll get your clothes, unless you don't feel up for work?" Marie poured you a glass of milk.
"I don't- I don't know."
Marie nodded and left the kitchen. You stared at the sandwich and the milk. The working lights, the normal day outside the window, and your best friend. A dream? You began to pinch your arm, but stopped when it became too painful. A bright red welt stared at you from your forearm.
Marie came back a moment later with Daryl/Murphy in tow. His hair was damp from a shower and he wore a dark shirt with a black coat on top of it. Freshly washed jeans over an older pair of work boots. Marie whispered something to him before he nodded and walked over to you. She had a stack of clothes held in her arms.
"Hey, why didn't you tell me it was the dream?"
Your eyes snapped back to him at the sound of his Irish voice. He was leaning against the counter beside you.
"Murphy?" You tested the name.
"Hmm?" He nodded waiting for you to continue.
A laugh passed your lips. It was a crazed one, as you questioned your sanity, "I'm engaged to an Irish Daryl named Murphy! It's supposedly not the end of the world! My best friend-- my best friend is alive! I don't know- I can't-"
Daryl/Murphy pulled your chair back roughly so you were facing him. He leaned close and cupped your face softly.
"You need to calm down. It was just a dream, this-- this is real. I'm your Murphy and you're my Aimee." He said firmly. His voice lowered a bit, "Everything is ok, sunshine."
The nickname sent you overboard. Frustration filled your body, but before you could voice a single thought he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. His lips were rough against yours, as if he were desperate to take your frustration and replace it with recognition. He pulled back and let his lips hover over yours.
"Tell me you're ok, lass. I need to hear it from ya." He pleaded. With every word his lips brushed against yours and you found it extremely hard to focus. It took all your energy just to remember to breathe.
"I'm ok. I'm ok." You repeated. If anything was going to be done you'd have to be away from him and his confusing lips, "I'm fine. It's ok."
He leaned back with a look of worry drawn across his features. Marie stepped up and handed you the clothes. Murphy/Daryl shook his head, "I don't know. Maybe she should stay home. Call in sick, I'm sure the boss lady'd understand."
"Are you kidding?" Marie scoffed, "Lori has been searching for a way to destroy Aj and this would be perfect."
Lori's name peaked your interest. Lori was your boss? You assumed you worked at a hospital. It would only make sense.
"I'm going to work. Lemme just get ready." You said before rushing off toward the bathroom. You could feel their gazes on your retreating form, but you refused to turn around.
As you entered the bathroom you began to zoom through getting ready. The only time you paused was when you took your shirt off. Your skin was flawless. You turned around to see your back was smooth and scar free as well. The black tattoo was gone leaving you bare.
After swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat you threw on the clothes Marie had picked for you. A light pink blouse and dark washed jeans. You pulled on a pair of low heels that she left by the door for you and walked back out. Marie was waiting by the door with Murphy/Daryl.
"Just keep an eye on her." He said.
"Of course I will." Marie rolled her eyes.
He caught sight of you and gave you a smile. He grabbed a creme colored peacoat off the rack on the wall and slipped it over your shoulders. You pushed your arms through as Marie opened the door.
"Come to the bar after your shift, alright?" He said before kissing you on the forehead. You nodded and jumped out of the door.
"Um bye, Murphy." You said with one last glance at him. He wasn't Daryl. The two may have looked alike, but that wasn't the redneck you had grown fond of being around.