Arrowhead ➳ Daryl Dixon

t h i r t y - f i v e

Presley was dreadfully quiet.

Stefan glanced over at her, biting his lip in frustration. She had an arrow loosely in place, ready to pull back and fire at any moment. Her blue eyes were wide with alert, yet, everytime she looked at him, she seemed to be looking right through him. She walked slow, but not slow enough that he would notice. 

"You okay?" He asked finally. She looked at him, and once again, she seemed to look right through him. She looked away.

"Everytime somebody says that I say 'yes, I'm fine'." She said quietly. "But I'm never fine. I never should have joined this group, I never should have stayed. Everything good that ever happens in this world always comes to a brutal end. Since this whole thing started, I've been so sure that I could outlast it." She said, shaking her head. "But truth is, I'm only lasting it because I don't know how not to survive it."

Stefan stayed quiet during her little speech. Broken. Broken seemed to be a good word to describe her. "Now Lori and Hershal are dead, and God only knows who else. I mean, we don't even know who got out of the bus. We don't even know if the bus got out of there!" She raked a hand through her hair, letting out a frustrated grunt when her hand got caught in a tangle. "We'll probably never even see any of them again. Rick, Carl, Beth, Maggie, Glenn... We didn't have an escape place. We'll all get away on the bus." She shook her head, throwing her hands up in frustration. 

Zeva treaded slowly behind Presley, lacking the usual wag in her tail. Stefan stopped suddenly, earning a confused look from the both of them. He motioned to the abandoned car at the side of the road. "Might as well camp here. Safest we'll get." He noted, shrugging. Presley hesitated, but nodded her head yes. 

Soon enough they were all inside the car, windows up and doors locked. Stefan sat in the front, his back against the passenger's window and his legs bent over the center console. Presley sat in the back, with Zeva curled up on the ground. Good thing the SUV was pretty spacious. Presley tapped her fingertips against her knees, staring out into the trees beyond them. "How long do you think it'll take him to find us?" She asked.

Stefan shrugged, picking at the dirt and blood under his nails. "Probably within a day... He probably took his little motorcycle out, seeing as how nobody else knew how to drive it." They both chuckled a bit at that. 

"That was Merle's bike." She mentioned, pursing her lips. She wondered where Merle was, and if she would ever see that bastard again. After what he had done to Daryl's trust, she would probably take his other hand if they ever met on the road. That is if Daryl didn't take it first.

"When I got back from Woodbury everybody kept asking me if I was alright, and what exactly had happened. Truth was, I lied to all of them every time." She laughed bitterly. "I wasn't alright. He'd taken me and he had me torn down into nothing, into a stupid little soul trapped in a body I couldn't get out of. I'm tired of telling people that I'm alright, tired of playing the tough one."

"Than stop being it." Stefan said, she looked at him, her expression grim.

"I wish it were that easy." She said softly. "If I stopped playing the tough one, I would lose the game of life. I would die, and turn into one of those creatures out there." She said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. 

"I won't let anything happen to you, Presley." He said, reaching through the seats and grabbing her hand. This time when she looked at him, she saw him. She looked pale in the moonlight, but somehow it made her look even more beautiful. The dirt and grime that caked on her skin, the dried sweat that glistened on her brow. To Stefan, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She stared at him for a minute, giving his hand a little squeeze before pulling it away. It wasn't much, but it meant the world to him that she hadn't jerked away. "And I know Daryl won't let anything even come close to you."