Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Forty-Three: Storm

•forty-three•

Daryl

Monday, March 9, 2016

Today has left me exhausted, and it's only midday as I'm writing this. So far, I have had to deal with two different pregnant women. One of them is no longer pregnant, because I delivered her healthy baby girl. Talia's delivery went as smooth as we could hope for, and the baby doesn't seem to have any defects so far, but she's only a few hours old, so it's a bit early to tell. As for the other pregnant woman, Lori is actually making me homicidal. I want those two babies out of her body as soon as possible. I honestly don't know how I'm going to deal with her for the next six weeks. However, it will be very satisfying to take a scalpel to her.

As for Daryl, he's his usual, moody self today. It has been three months, and he still refuses to tell me what he meant by 'there's so much I wanna' tell ya'. It's really putting a strain on us, but I'm trying to work with it. I think I love him, but it's not like I'd ever tell him that. Not because I don't mean it or anything, but because I am terrified of rejection. I know that he doesn't love me, but it would completely shatter my heart if I heard him say it, so I will just keep to myself.

Rick has been gone since last night on a run with Sebastian to get stuff for the baby. I know he's smart, but I still can't help but worry about him. He's still not very happy about Sebastian, Talia and Enid being here, but he has been careful, and I think that they're slowly earning his trust. Since Lucas, he's the first person I said 'I love you' too, and it honestly feels so good. Sure, he's not my real dad, but I love Rick just as much as I loved Barry.

My day is about to get a lot more exhausting in about half an hour. Since we've been in the hotel for so long without any appearances from any of Bob's gang, we decided as a group that it would be safe to start with my experiment again. I have my vile of walker blood, and I'm getting ready to give T-Dog his first dose. I'm running out of room to write, so I'll get back with you tomorrow with the medical aspect of it all.

Signed,

Beatrix A. Zedler.

I flip through the pages of the small, leather journal in my hand, feeling like a piece of shit. For one, I shouldn't be invading Trixy's personal journal like this while she's trying to find a cure for all of this. Second of all, after reading through a few entries over the past months, it becomes very clear to me that my girl thinks that I don't love her when that couldn't be more wrong. I'd give my life to save her, and that's exactly why I can't tell her. If she knows I love her, it'll be so much harder for her when I'm gone.

Putting the journal back where I found it, I sigh, running my hand over my growing beard. All I do is think about her and how perfect she is. I can't get my mind off of the desire to marry her, but I know that the chances of that happening are slim to none. Maybe if I told her how I feel we'd be able to make it work, have a little weddin' with Hershel or somethin'.

I shake the foolish dreams from my head, leaving our room to meet her in the hallway. She smiles when she sees me, running towards me, and I know what's coming. I squat and hold my arms out, ready for her to jump on me. She does as I expected her to do, wrapping her legs around my waist, laughing the whole time. I catch her by her ass, turning to press her back against the wall.

"Where have you been all day?" She asks with a smile so bright it could blind me.

"Just been smokin' on the balcony," I lie. I am such a piece of shit.

"If you don't slow down you're going to have to resort to those menthols I got you," she snickers, and I can't help but to kiss her.

"What menthols?" I question, pulling back from the kiss.