Firecracker ➝ Daryl Dixon

Chapter 16: Demon

“Matt,” the blonde whispered, “We’re back.”

Brown eyes widened in shock, pure terror before narrowing into slits at the grinning mad female.  Her hand caressed his matted locks and she mumbled something about him needing a haircut and then softly kissed his forehead.  The floorboards shook, the large male entering the cabin and taking a moment to thoughtfully run a hand over his beard.  “He still alive Talia?”

A giggle and then, “Yeah of course, Matt’s strong right love?”  Without mercy Talia tore the duct tape from his mouth pulling facial hair and pride away from the withering male.

His brown eyes shifted from the blonde in front of him to the flannel wearing middle aged man who petted his beard and sucked in the stench of the makeshift prison.  “Hank,” Matt cleared his throat and licked his dry, bleeding lips, “How is she?”

A loud smack, the groan of a walker outside, the sharp intake of breath as Talia removed her hand from Matt’s cheek.  Foggy green eyes narrowed and with a deep inhalation Talia stood up and walked towards Hank.  “All he cares about,” Talia hiccupped, tears brimming her eyes and her body quivering, “Is her and I mean who is keeping him alive?  Who is risking everything to keep him safe and alive?”

“When I get out of here I swear to god Talia I will fucking kill you,” The threat was injected with truth and caused Matt’s voice to lower and shake with a rage that engulfed his body in flames.

“Yeah,” Talia spun around, her hair billowing and falling onto her shoulder, “Cause you could huh!?  Cause you have haven’t you!” 

“Talia,” Hank latched onto the blonde’s shoulder and tugged her backwards, “Stop, and Matt don’t get her all riled up like that and your sister, she’s fine.”

“Except,” Talia clicked her tongue and ran her fingers through her hair, “She didn’t go on the run this week, she chose to stay at the camp rather than go out and look for you.”

Matt’s face betrayed no emotion other than an overwhelming hatred for the pretty blonde woman who had separated him from his sister.  Originally he had seen Talia as some sort of angel, after all she had been the one to treat his wounds and bring him back to life.  How quickly the angel transformed into a demon of manipulation, but not one with bloody talons and pointed fangs- no, Talia was much worse.  For she was beautiful with golden locks, wide jade eyes, delicate phalanges that stroked your cheek and told you everything would be okay despite the knife she had plunged into your back.  Evil.  An evil that Matt could so easily see reflected in himself and that mirror image caused his stomach to ache, skin crawl, and heart palpitate as he desperately tried to free himself from this man made hellhole.

Talia tapped her foot on the decaying wooden planks and waited for a response that never came.  With a huff she turned towards Hank and whispered something in that velvety voice of hers that had once caused Matt to think that perhaps he could love her, perhaps he could find peace.  Hank nodded, once, twice, took a moment to look over at Matt and then nodded a third time before walking towards the filthy prisoner.  “Five minutes,” Talia walked towards the door, “Then we have to go.”

The female left the cabin, shutting the door behind her and leaving Hank and Matt to stare at each other.  “I’m gonna take those handcuffs off, sure they hurt like hell right?  But ya gotta promise me you won’t go all crazy, ya try anything funny and you won’t get any food.”

“Talia tell you that?”  Matt hissed and squirmed because damn it it would feel so good to slam Talia’s head into a wall over, and over, and over again until she was a crimson mess of brains and blood and matted blonde hair.