Carol finished sewing up my side and bandaging it. The bullet barely hit me, but it hit me enough to do some damage.
"Thanks." I quietly said, gritting my teeth as the needle went thought my skin one last time. I wiped my damp eyes. I was still crying, and didn't think I was going to stop anytime soon.
"It's never a problem." She replied softly. She laid the bandages carefully over the stitches. "Now you need to lay here for a while to let your body start to heal. Lori will bring you dinner when the time comes." She cleaned up the small table next to my bed.
"How many people are hurt?" I asked her before she left.
"Not too many of our people. They killed the leader of the other men. Only a couple of his men escaped." She told me. "The rest died." I nodded, proud of our group. "Rest, Sawyer." She left the room. I closed my eyes as a fresh batch of tears streamed down the side of my face onto the pillow. I cautiously rolled onto my good side, trying to reduce my pain. I laid there in peace for several long minutes until my door opened and in walked Daryl. He was disheveled and glum looking.
"Hey." I said as he pulled the corner chair to the bedside.
"How are you?" He asked about my wound.
"Just peachy." I replied, rolling my eyes.
"Well, I'm here at our beck-n-call." He said leaning back in his chair. "So if you need something..."
"I need you to take my mind off of my pain." I closed my eyes.
"How do I do that?" He asked. I thought for a second.
"Tell me about your childhood. I've told you about mine, now I want to hear about yours." I suggested.
"You're in for a very boring story." He warned me.
"I don't care."
"Alright." There was a silence. "Well my childhood was shit. My mom was a smoker and didn't really leave her bed at all, Merle was always in some kind of trouble or on a stint with some waitress, and my dad... he was the meanest, most soulless son of a bitch you'd ever meet. He'd beat Merle and I, causing Merle to leave me alone. I left that hell hole the first opportunity I had. I didn't care where I went... I just wanted out." He stopped talking. I opened my eyes and looked at him. His head was in his hands and heard him sniffling. I opened my eyes.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried." I told him, propping myself up on my elbow. He tried to hide his eyes from me. "It's ok to cry, Daryl." I told him, reaching over and patting his knee. He whipped his eyes.
"I was dreaming." He said. I was confused. "I was back home and my dad had gotten Merle to beat me. I had finally started to fight back when you... when you woke me up and I..." I understood what he was talking about. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was awake." He looked me in the eyes. I could see the sadness in them.
"It's ok. I forgive you." I reached over and held his hand. "It's all in the past." He scooted his chair closer to the bed.
"Lie down and sleep." I tucked my arm under my head and pulled the blanket up over my shoulder. "I'm right here." I closed my eyes again.
"I'm sorry for punching you. I was just a little pissed." I apologized. I felt his hand grab mine.
"It's alright. I deserved it." He said. Silence filled the room. The occasional several footsteps passed by the door and the less occasional voice. For once I didn't want to move, or run, or fight. I was happy to be resting. Daryl sat by my side the whole time, holding my hand, checking if I was still breathing. I was happy he was there with me. After a couple hours of quiet I opened my eyes to see his sleeping face. He was so peaceful. His breathing was heavy and spread out. I knew he wouldn't hear me but I didn't care.
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Forget The Horror Here (A The Walking Dead Fanfiction)Fanfiction
Dead. Completely dead. Like what you see in movies and what you read in stories. And amongst the destruction and danger, the last of the living grip on to whatever's left of humanity. I, Sawyer Parson, am one of them.