Dear Diary (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

No Hope Left

»How many Walkers have you killed?«

Rick’s words echoed in your head as you ran through the grass at breakneck speed. Your neck burned with the effort, the blood pumped into the temples and the adrenaline showed no signs of decline.

“Hurry the hell up, Y/N!”

“I can’t!”, you reply in a low voice, gasping. All you wanted was to stop and rest.

“Goddamn! Move on! I have no intention of dying ‘cause of yer lazy ass!”

You turned around. The herd was getting closer. The fear almost paralyzed you and your legs became heavy because of the tiredness. A hand grabs your arm and pulls you forward, forcing you to continue your run.

“Run! Or do ya’ want to end like those bastards?”

The faces of the people around you came to your mind. Those who have become your family lately. Carl, Glenn, Michonne, Rick…

Tears rose in your eyes and moistened them. It would be your fault if you wouldn’t be longer with them. You should have protected them.

»How many people have you killed?«

»One.«

“Want some more tea 'nd cookies, damn it, com’ on, Y/N!”, screamed the one who was with you.

When you heard your name, you suddenly came back to reality. A reality in which you don’t want to live anymore, so absurd that even your worst nightmares couldn’t be enough. You started running again without knowing where you would end.

»Why?«

»Because that person wanted to kill me.«

After a silence that seemed endless, Rick Grimes nodded. »You belong to us now. You’re a part of this group, this family.«

Now you just want that all to be over, but it does not happen. The clearing has turned into a forest and you both kept running. “Over there, look!”, you cried out.

A house was to be seen in front of you, a few meters away. It was small, probably not safe, but maybe enough to catch its breath. If you stay out here, you’ll die anyway, so it’s worth a try.

“Let’s hope there’s an exit on the back…” Daryl took a moment to look at you, with those eyes that constantly challenged you to hurry to the hiding place in front of you. In front of the entrance, he doesn’t even bother to see if the door is blocked or not: He opened it with a heavy kick on the lock and then threw himself in, waiting for you to cross the threshold and you fell exhausted to the ground. The man blocked the door with a dresser and then imitated you. He threw himself on the floor with his arms raised.

Meanwhile, the Walkers who pursued you gathered at the entrance. You heard them hiss, agitated with your scent and fear, pushing their living dead bodies toward the door, unable to feel pain or fatigue.