Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Sixty-Six: Lovenox

sixty-six

Beatrix

"Beatrix, you need to stay calm," Lucas says, as if he's treading lightly, but it's too late. I'm already in a full on panic attack meltdown.

"I'm going to die," I say, followed by my blood splattering everywhere from my coughing.

"No, you won't," Daryl says, taking one of my hands in his own.

"I'm not stupid," I snap at him, which I really shouldn't be doing right now. I don't want him to remember me like this, but I can't help it. I am officially freaking the fuck out. My breathing rate increases, and that mixed with the coughing is blocking air from getting into my lungs sufficiently.

"You're gonna hyperventilate and pass out if you don't calm down," Baxly crouches down between Daryl and Lucas, taking my other hand. "You pass out every time you do this, Bea. You can't be passing out right now. If you do, we might not be able to wake you back up."

"Okay," I whisper, trying my best to slow my breathing. As I calm down, the adrenaline, or whatever I had pumping through my veins, wears off, and I can feel just how bad the bite hurts. "Get me some fucking Oxy."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Lucas says before leaving, probably to go get the pain medicine from our lockup.

I probably look terrible. Even thought I can't see myself I know I'm a mess. Between the blood, tears, saliva, and whatever else is caked on my face, I probably look like a walker already. This is truly my worst nightmare.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Baxly sheepishly asks, as if he's afraid he's going to say the wrong thing.

"I don't know," I pause for another coughing fit. Damn that's getting annoying. "A new pair of scrubs?"

"I'll be right back," he stands up, kissing the top of my head before leaving.

"I just wanted him to leave us alone for a few minutes," I admit to Daryl as soon as Baxly is gone. "I missed you."

"I'm so sorry I left you," he mutters, a tear dripping down his cheek. It is so odd to see him cry. I don't know if I've ever seen him cry before. "But I'm here now, and I ain't ever leaving your side again."

"It's okay," I weakly lift my hand up to wipe the tears from under his eyes. "I'll be okay, Daryl. I love you."

"I love you, too," he presses his forehead to mine, despite the obscure amount of bodily fluids I probably have on me. "You can't die on me, Trixy."

"Well, I can't promise you that I wont," I let out a strained laugh, which, you guessed it, results in a fit of coughing. After throwing up some more blood on the floor, I shift my focus back to Daryl. "But I do love you. I don't want to die before it happens, though. If I pass out, don't go for the brain until I don't have a pulse, please."

"Don't talk like that," he frowns at me.

"Just promise me, Daryl. Don't stab me until you're sure it's over. Make Lucas check."

"I promise."

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After Lucas and Baxly get back, it basically turns into a crying fest in my room. I just sit on my bed, with Daryl and Baxly on each side and Lucas sitting on a chair in front of me. I'm pretty sure nobody else knows at this point, but it might be time to start telling people. I also assume that Hershel and Bob took care of the rest of the people with the illness, but Lucas probably needs to go help too.

"Beatrix, you've lost a lot of blood," Lucas breaks the silence, well more of the absence of talking. "You're too pale."

"Then I guess I'll bleed out," I try to fake a smile, but nobody seems to enjoy that. "I think somebody needs to get Rick, Carl, Beth, and Merle."