The Dixons

Chapter 16: Bruises

~Ariel's P.O.V~

I didn't want to be around anyone right now, especially Merle. He may be my brother, but he's a jerk. Where can I go to get away from everybody, though?

The woods.

I know how to use a gun, and I had a knife so I'd be okay, hopefully. I walked into the woods, and looked for a spot to sit. I cleared out a little opening right underneath a tree and sat in it. I brought my knees up to my chest and laid my head on my knees. How could Merle said I couldn't survive? I made it this long, haven't I? Sure, I've had help along the way but who hasn't? You need a little extra help now and then.

"You okay?" A voice behind me asked me. I instantly knew that voice. Daryl. He followed me. "Why'd you follow me, Daryl?"

"Making sure you're okay."

"Since when do you care?" He chuckled. "I've always cared for you. Ever since I first heard your voice on the phone that one night." I didn't know what to say back to him. He cleared out a spot right next to me and sat down.

"What are you doing way out here, anyway?"

"Just needed to get away from everyone." I rested my head on my knees. Out of no where, Daryl rolled up the sleeves of my hoodie and looked around.

"Right there," he pointed to two scratches, from Merle, and a few bruises; some worse than others, "Merle did this to you. He better watch his back." I sighed. "We should probably head back now." I told Daryl.

He stood up. He dusted off the back of his pants, then held a hand out for me. I grabbed it, and he pulled me to my feet. "Let's get going, then."

We walked all the way back to the farm, not encountering a single Walker. This place seems so untouched. It's really lucky. It still amazed me with its untouched beauty. "Daryl, umm.. I'm not feeling too-"

~Daryl's P.O.V~

"Daryl, umm.. I'm not feeling too-" Was the last thing I heard before Ariel collapsed into my arms.

"Ariel? Are you okay? Wake up!" What could do this? I had to get her back to Hershel. I picked her up bridal style, and carried her back to the farm. When I got there, I kicked the door open.

"Hershel, we have a situation." He came walking out of the kitchen. He examined her, and ordered me to bring her to the bed. When I set her down, I immediately bombarded Hershel with questions.

Questions like, "is she okay?" And, "what could do this?"

"She's exhausted, hasn't slept, eaten, drank in days. She's dehydrated. Sleep deprived. That fight she had with her brother this morning sure didn't help. It just made her worse. She's going to have to stay in here for a few days."

"But she'll be okay?"

"She'll be fine.