THE WALKING DEAD IMAGINES

"you think you're the only one suffering?" (daryl d.)

a/n- just an fyi, this imagine is no shade to rosita because i love her and her sassiness

plot- reader is abe's kid and is dealing with his death

word count- 1074

warnings- mentions of death, fighting

Anger rises within me and drowns out any other emotion, leaving me a little irrational. I'm still reeling since the death of not only Glenn but my father, Abraham. He was my only source of family left and now he's gone.

There is an extremely dark atmosphere surrounding Alexandria at the moment and especially my mind. My thoughts are colored in black and my eyes have lost all emotion. I feel numb.

I'm sitting on the porch steps of what was my father and I's house but now it's just mine although Daryl will come and stay with me. I'm sure that the only reason I haven't completely gone off the hinges is because of him. Daryl keeps me strong, keeps me fighting when I really don't want to.

"Y/N," I hear a familiar voice speak. I look up from my hands to see Daryl. His demeanor is usual, brooding and dark but he's actually a gentle soul, something that I find comfort in lately. "What're ya' doing?"

Daryl takes a seat next to me and for a moment I find myself ridden of all the negative feelings that have been consuming me. My anger has come just below the level of irate, my sadness has been knocked down from its usual crippling state of, 'I'm gonna eat a bullet' depression. The ache in my chest is now a dull pain which I can hardly notice. The madness has temporarily subsided.

"Thinking." I answer him. It's probably one of the worst things I could do right now.

"That's not good." Daryl jokes. It's strange, seeing Daryl laugh. I mean you just don't associate Daryl and laughing. I guess when one of us is down, the other does what they need to in order to pick the other up.

I tilt my head and rest it on his shoulder. Daryl has never been a very affectionate person, especially in public but he knows that what I need right now is comfort.

"I'm sorry you're having to go through all this shit." Daryl whispers.

A small, faint smile appears on my face at his statement. It's small and I've heard enough 'Im sorry's to last me a lifetime but the most important one is Daryl's.

"Thank you." I rasp while sitting up fully and looking at him. His shoulder is wrapped with a thick gauze due to the gunshot wound he suffered, courtesy of Dwight.

He smiles back at me and I know that Daryl doesn't smile often but when he does, I know that somehow everything will be okay.

"How's your shoulder?" I ask. I don't want to bask in my continuous, debilitating grief.

"You don't worry about it." he tells me. He's always so stoic. Sometimes I wish I was more like him.

"Daryl." I sigh. I shake my head and take my hand in his. I look out and see people slowly walking around, trying to carry on until I see someone in particular who I've never liked.

Rosita.

God, she's such an asshole. Of course she's lost people too, we all have but we can choose how that changes us.

She's moping around and I can't help the anger that rises within me. She has not right. She hardly knew my father. He was my father. I'm the one that just watched my dad be brutally murdered right before my eyes.

Our eyes lock and for a second it's like everything is frozen. It's as if all I can feel is anger and without hesitation, my feet carry me towards her. I'm sure Daryl is right behind me but I ignore it.

"Y/N," she starts as her voice cracks. I hold my hand up to stop her from speaking.

"Stop. Stop moping around here like you're so goddamm heartbroken. He was my dad. To you, he was just some guy you fucked every now and then. So stop this! You think you're the only one suffering? You're not." I rant.

Rosita's eyes widen at my sudden outburst and I can't even will myself to feel bad. A tear slides down her cheek and I roll my eyes out of habit.

"He loved me too." she whispers.

The audacity this woman has astounds me. How could she say something like that?

I lunge forward but as soon as I'm within her grasp, large arms wrap around my waist and I kick and scream and swing my arms around like a crazy person.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Daryl yells while still pulling me back. Rosita backs away and I've obviously attracted the attention of the others. Rick runs over, hand resting on his gun since he probably assumes there is a threat from the Saviors or walkers. "Stop it Y/N!"

Daryl manages to pull me away and to my house where he practically throws me through the door. I rake my hands through my tangled hair and tears build up in my eyes. I walk backwards until my back hits the wall. I try to hold in the sobs that are threatening to escape my mouth.

"Y/N-" Daryl starts but he's cut off by my inevitable cries. "Y/N." he repeats but in a much sadder tone.

My face falls into my hands as tears stream down my face continuously. Daryl slowly approaches me and wraps his arms around me and I want him to hold me tighter. I want him to hold me tighter so I know that I won't break. That this won't break me.

"Sh." he whispers into my hair as he allows his chin to rest on top of my head. Daryl holds me and he doesn't let go of me for awhile and he reassures me I'll be okay.

The next day we return back to the porch and sit. Everyone walks around and tries to think of what comes next, how we defeat the Saviors. It's a sad sight but we're trying.

Alexandria has seen better days and so have I. Things might not become easier but I have the group and I have Daryl. He will hold me until the painful thoughts pass and build me up when I need it. I will be okay.