"I'm going to go and see who made it back from yesterday's incident. Also, I kinda want to see lil' asskicker." I poke Daryl's firm shoulder at his funny nickname for the baby and chuckle a little. Wait. Is it a boy or a girl? I'll just have to find out for myself. I'm not a huge fan of babies, but I guess I'll have to go see him/her anyway. Babies cry too much for my liking.
We walk into the dull prison and get greeted by small nods and 'morning's by the depressed-looking people seated around the table we eat food at. They're having their breakfast, baked beans. They could have boiled a potato along with it...
I love baked beans. They're so good I can't even begin to explain it. I love breakfast food also. You can have it for lunch or dinner or as a midnight snack. Although it's not really recommended. But screw recommendations.
Daryl closes the rusty red door to the courtyard behind him and leans forward towards my ear to whisper. "I'm gon' look for the rest of our people." I nod uneasily, worry filling me up.
What if something happens to him? What if he gets bitten? What if he gets trapped? What if- "Be careful. I love you." I smile at him insecurely and go on my toes to quickly peck his lips. Damn, I need to get used to saying 'I love you'. It's so weird. I've only ever said it once, and that was to my dog pug when I was like six. I miss my little baby...
He looks at me for a second, his eyes clouding with an emotion I can't read. "Love ya too" he whispers back before setting off into the tombs in his sassy Dixon manner. I hope to God he'll come back alive. Apparently there might be a hole in the building through which the walkers keep coming in. Maybe I'll check it out later on...
But he said 'I love you' back. Well, 'Love ya too' That must mean he does. He wouldn't just say it for fun, would he? He would stay it if he didn't mean it. He's not the type of person to play with people's feelings. If he doesn't like them, he'll tell them.
I walk towards the half-empty metal table and sit between Glenn and Carl. A bowl of baked beans and a spoon are passed down to me and I start to contemplate whether or not I should eat it. I'll just get fatter and Daryl will break up with me... That's not something I'm willing to risk. But I can't get fat from one bowl. Plus, with the running I've been doing lately, I think I'm losing weight.
I stare at the blue bowl, no glare at it, unwillingly attracting the attention of Glenn. He nudges me with his shoulder and glares at me. Has he noticed that I've been eating a little less lately? Oh god, I hope not. It's. It even been that much I've missed out on.
I scowl at the Asian but take an involuntary spoonful and shove it in my mouth. Well, they are baked beans. The beans taste amazing. Man, I love baked beans so fucking much.
As I chew the beans, I take a look around the table. Across from me is an anxious looking Maggie, next to her is an expressionless Carl, playing around with his food. Alex is leaning against Carl,seemingly in deep thought. Glenn's giving Maggie a reassuring smile, but his eyes look anxious as fuck as well.
Beth is next to her sister, feeding the small baby girl with some formula. Must be the one Daryl got yesterday. Did anyone get any baby formula from Wallmart? It's a girl. Another girl at camp. I wonder if I'm going to live to see her grow up. That is, if neither of us die.
But what shocks me the most, is the sight of the puffy-cheeked Gabriel. What got his panties in a twist? Something's wrong. Very fucking wrong. The same feeling I felt when I found out Glenn was shot courses through my body.
"Gabe. What's wrong?" I ask, worry evident in my voice. He looks up at me, tears streaming freely from his apple green eyes. Seriously though. I don't like this feeling. Everyone's been crying lately. I still feel like an emotionless bastard. Maybe I'll just have to wait and then it'll all come in a waterfall of tears.
"Gabriel. What's wrong?" I ask again, more urgently and forcefully. He starts to shake a little, causing people to give him pittiful looks. What the fuck is going on? Why won't anyone tell me? As I'm about to yell, he speaks up.
"J-Jack. He got b-bit" he chokes out through his rough throat, sniffling. A fresh set of tears fall out of his eyes. Fuck. No no no! He couldn't have. Couldn't they just chop the limb off? Assuming it's a limb. What the fuck happened?!
The silver spoon falls out of my hand, clanking against the metal bowl and splashing sauce on the table. Carol will clean it up. I push myself up, heading towards Jacks and Gabes cell in a purposeful walk. Not Jackson. Jackie. Not him. No. Gabe's probably joking. He is, after all, the trickster of this group.
I pull the white curtains aside hastily and step in, taking the view in. Jack has a bloody, wet towel pressed to his neck, his blue eyes open and looking straight at me. It's creepy to say the least. A shiver travels down my spine at record speed. I crouch down next to him and take a hold of his hand. It's cold. And chained to the bed by Rick's handcuffs.
This shouldn't have happened to him. If I wasn't a sissy and stayed in the prison instead of running to Daryl, he would have possibly been alive. He's going to die because of me.
I swallow the gigantic ball in my throat and take a shaky breath. "Jack I'm so... so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have taken you from that cottage." I whisper and look at the blue eyed angel. It's all me. How could I let him out of my sight? I should have protected him. I should have looked after him. I should have been there. It should have been me.
"It's n-not your fault, Diana." He chokes out, blood spluttering onto his chin in little messy droplets along with saliva. No. Please no. He can't die. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any time soon. But the rational part of my mind tells me it's too late. That he's going to die anyway. No matter how hard I can try and save him.
His beautiful eyes glaze over and his grip on my hand loosens, his breathing stalling. Jackson Bruce is dead.
I stand up and pull my knife out of my right boot and position it at the side of his head. "I'm sorry, Jackie. Say hi to whoever's at the other side for me." I whisper as I eliminate the chances of him becoming a walker.
It's not the best thing to say. I don't even believe in satan or God or whatever bullshit higher power there is. This is all bullshit. Everything. The world, walkers, people. Everything. I fucking hate it. The world is a shit place and there's no more space for us humans left anymore.
This shouldn't have happened like this. He should have stayed with Gabe and been happy. He should have seen the baby grow up and give it piggy back rides. He should have been able to go on runs with me and bring little presents for Gabe.
I stand up and drop the bloody knife back down my black boot, walking out of the cell and taking my original seat back at the quiet table. They're still sitting there, clearly not having moved at all.
Glenn rubs my back in sympathy a little, before standing up along with Maggie and announcing that they're going on a run for the baby formula. I guess that's just an excuse to have sex, because we have shit tons of formula from Wallmart left over. I guess we did take it. How can they have sex when people from our group are dead? Okay Wow. I'm a fucking hypocrite.
But wait. Why didn't Daryl say that he was on a formula run yesterday? Why lie? Where did he go? That's shit. He probably has a valid excuse. An explainable one. Or he wants to get away from me. That's more likely. I'm probably getting too attached and he doesn't like it. He's not the type for clingy girlfriends.
"Be careful." I whisper under my breath and subconsciously tracks my arms under the table. No. I'm not going there. Not after seven years of hard work. No way I'm going to relapse. I've developed a strong mind and I'm not doing that ever again. I remember what I said to Daryl when he saw the cuts...
"Promise me ya won't do that again?" He asks cautiously, running his finger over the faint scars on my right arm. It's tragically sad, really. Fucked up, even. How he's still with me after this all, I have no idea. I sniff and nod, leaning forward and giving him a kiss on the lips. "I promise."
I made Daryl a promise and I'm not going to break it. I'm not.
All of a sudden, everyone's heads snap up to the entrance of the tombs. Rick and Hershel. I must have been in deep thought to not hear the loud as fuck squeaking of the bars. Oh well. They're alive and safe. That's the most important thing. I manage a weak smile and watch as Rick walks towards the baby, slowly picking it up.
To be honest, they don't look anything alike. It's probably Shane's, which I hate. That asshole doesn't deserve to leave a child behind. It should be Ricks and nobody else's. Shame that Lori couldn't keep her fucking legs closed. Wait. Shane had brown eyes. So did Lori. Rick has blue. If the kid has blue eyes, it'll be Rick's. But if it has brown, there's no way to tell who's it is. Time will reveal that, I guess.
He smiles at the little girl and then at every one of us. We all return the sad smile, and as if on que, everyone starts following Rick into the courtyard. Alex and Carl hand in hand and Beth walking ahead of Gabe. At least they're happy. And I think Beth stopped going after Jack after she saw him and Gabe making out. I still can't believe he's gone.
I pretend I'm tying my shoe lace and wait until they're all gone before slipping into the cell with all of our weapons in it. It's closest to the entrance for emergencies, which is kind of good. Whoever thought of it is a genius. Rick and Daryl found the safe house where the guards kept their weapons, so we should be good for a long time to come.
I grab a small black pistol full of ammunition and stick in behind my belt, safety off. Just incase. After what happened to Jack because he didn't have a gun, I'm not willing to risk anything. Although I'm not the best at shooting this thing. Sure, I'll hit my target. But on the second try, most likely. And they're loud without a silencer as well.
I shut the iron bars behind me and look around. This isn't the smartest idea, but it's better than sitting around and doing jack shit. I need to let some steam off. Cut a few bitches up. I also try to ignore the fact that my best friend called Jack is fucking dead.
I make a turn left, then another left after a long corridor. The tombs are strangely noisy. But not the 'walker' noisy. Just buzzing and occasional clanking from the various boiler rooms around. I've never noticed this before. I guess I didn't have time when we were running to Ryan. Speaking of him, where is his body? I'm sure Rick would have went to look for at least some remains. I wonder when we're going to hold the ceremony type of thing for him. That's the least he deserves.
I take my machete out and ready, taking a deep breath. This place is creeping with walkers, so it's better be safe than sorry. As I'm about to pull the rusty handle of the door leading to one of the boiler rooms, I feel something wrap around my left arm. And not in the comforting way. But before I manage to turn around and thrust my machete through the things mushy skull, it takes a huge fucking bite off my shoulder.
I scream in horror and pain, piercing the fuckers head. Shit. Fucking fuck! I clutch my arm, not being able to look at it. The asshole bit my shoulder. There's only one way this can go. I can't believe I got myself bit. Oh my fucking god I can't believe it! I need to think fast.
I quickly start sprinting through the tombs back to our cell block, narrowly avoiding corpses. Daryl. That's the only thing on my mind. The man that saved my life on multiple occasions. And the fucking pain. Oh, the pain. It's like a coursing river flowing through my body in electrifying shocks. It's like I'm being prodded by a hot iron.
I remember how Daryl gave me a piggy back ride once down an empty street we secured and then both of us falling onto someone's overgrown lawn, laughing. That was a few months back, though. When we were still scavenging and running.
I close the bars to the empty Cell Block C behind me and run straight into Carl's cell. I'm a fuck up. How could I fucking... Oh my god. I could have avoided that.
I glance around it until and spot what I need. A pen and paper. Hopeful the pen works. Poor boy will come back to find his cell covered in blood and pen missing. But I don't have time to clean it up.
I snatch it with my blood-stained hand and run back up to mines and Daryl's cot at lighting speed, pulling the curtain for privacy closed. I'm in great pain. Excruciating pain. This isn't fucking fair. I can't leave Daryl behind... What if he heard my scream back in the tombs? Either way, I don't have much time. Before the group gets back in or before my man comes back. I need to be quick.
I wipe as much of the blood off my hands and onto my Metallica shirt, and grab the pen with a shaky hand as tears roll freely down my cheeks. There's no point in quietening my desperate sobs now. They'll be here soon anyway. I never wanted to die by a fucking walker bite. Not this way. Not this way... My shoulder is stinging like a bitch, causing my hand to shake.
I can't believe this is the way I'm going to leave him behind. As much as I don't want to. By doing something as reckless as this. A few days ago he even told me himself to not do anything reckless. God I'm such a failure. I never thought I'd break my promise. I'm going to die by suicide.
Daryl's P.O.V
I feel for the small ring in my back pocket again for the hundredth time today. This ain't really romantic, but it's something. Something that people used to call marriage. I'm still not sure about this though. Maybe I'll ask her tonight. Either way, I plan on doing it.
I walk into the quiet Cell Block and take a look around. Why is it so quiet? Where's everyone else? This doesn't feel right. Empty and quiet. Apart from the heart wrenching sobs echoing from where me and Diana sleep.
I look up and see that the cover has been pulled over for privacy and... And that there's a bloody handprint on it. My heart lurches into my throat. Did a walker get in? Is it Diana?
"Diana!" I yell. No. Fucking no. As I'm about to sprint up the metal stairs, a gunshot rings out and red droplets smear all over the not so white sheet. It's a deafening noise. Fuck. Please don't let it be Diana. The only person I ever said 'I love you' to. The only person I ever opened up to. I'm getting awfully poetical because of that girl.
I pull the curtains aside shakily. The sight makes me fall to my knees and start to shake, unfamiliar wetness flowing down my cheeks. Her body's just laying there, unmoving. Blood everywhere. On the mattress, on the covers, everywhere. Hair sprawled out over her beautiful face. The sight is unbearable.
She's fucking dead. She left me. She's laying on the grey bed, blood poring out of her left shoulder and head. She got bit. When? Was she in the fucking tombs? She fucking was. Fuck.
I brush the tears aside angrily as I notice a piece of paper between her fingers. A note. A suicide note? I lean forward and grab the note hastily, scanning the words on it. I try to ignore the bloody fingerprints. But that's hard, when it's the blood of the person you love. The person who's now laying within your reach, unmoving. Dead.
This fucking sucks. I'm really sorry, Daryl. I should have been more careful. I went into the tombs to take my anger out because Jack got bit. Oh, the irony.
I know I should have told you this more often, but I love you. I fucking love you. And I'll never stop. I just wish I told you those three words more often. Please remember them.
I can't be more thankful for meeting you and having the chance to be with you. Thank you for being there and caring when I thought nobody was.
This shouldn't have happened like this. I wanted to be with you for as long as I could, but I guess all good things come to an end. I'm just getting all sappy an lovey dovey. But I guess I have a right to. This is my suicide note after all.
Daryl Dixon, you're the strongest man I know and I fucking love you. Try to survive as long as you can. Don't take any chances. Be as careful as humanly possible. Please don't do anything reckless.
~Diana
I read the note over and over again, shaking as small water droplets appear on the paper. I don't even bother turning around when I hear people calling my name. This can't be real. I'm in a dream. I pinch myself violently. No doubt there'll be a bruise later of my arm. It isn't a dream. Fuck.
This is it. That's the end. The end of me. The end of us. The end of Diana Black. Or Diana Dixon.
Epilogue
It's been a year since she died and I'm still not ever it. The picture of her laying there, dead, haunts me every night. I can't sleep properly. I've went from six hours to three. I look down at her black watch on my wrist, seeing it's midnight. Her favourite time of the day. Or night. She loved the stars. She said they shone as bright as my eyes. But I didn't believe that shit.
It took a few weeks for me to realise that she was the reason I am where I am. Alive and breathing. A single day hasn't passed without me missing the fuck out of that girl. Diana. Diana fucking Black. Although I would have liked her better if she were called Diana Dixon. It's almost like some poetic shit. Romeo and that chick Juliet.
But I'm glad that she didn't have to go through all the shit with the governor. The plague. The several months on the road, separated and alone. Or the cannibals at Terminus. Let's not even mention Alexandria.
Each day, I look at the photos that I took of her and immediately miss her like crazy. I can't compare this feeling to any other I've ever felt before. It's foreign to me. Carl even gave Judith a middle name. Diana. And even when I protested, he wouldn't change it.
Diana, I love you.
(A/N)
Well, here's the inevitable ending... Thank you guys for actually reading this story. You kept me going and writing for over 6 damn months! Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and votes and just everything in general.
December 2015:
A year ago, I wrote this story, thinking it wouldn't get far. Yet here it is, sitting at 11 thousand views. I really can't express how grateful I am that you guys read this and maybe even enjoyed it. Thank you so much.
~Simona.