When asked "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?", a good many people say "I'd want to read people's minds." After all, it seems like an ideal power to have. You could know answers to test without having to study or win big in poker by knowing everyone's hands. Untold riches by simply reading the right person's mind.
But, what if you couldn't turn it off?
What if every moment of every day, you were hearing countless voices that weren't your own? Every personal thought, dirty secret, and rude remark left unsaid. You'd know right away that your spouse was lying to your face and every little flaw people saw in you.
Nothing could be hidden from you.
Well, that's exactly why Daryl has chosen to live deep in the woods all on his own. He found out as a child that the farther you were from people the less likely you were to hear their thoughts. So the first chance he got, he packed his bags, and moved as deep into the woods as he could, and as far away from anybody else.
Never the less, hearing others thoughts was daunting and drove him to heated outburst when people would silently judge him. Those outbursts and his reclusive nature have earned him the reputation of being a wild man. People only saw him as an uncivilized, filthy, mountain man that lost track with reality.
In truth, Daryl was quite adapted at living off the land and rarely needed to go into town for anything. On the off chance he did need to go to town, he would make the trip quick and those in town knew to avoid him. There seem to be a mutual understanding between him and the others that if they left him alone, he would get what he needed and be gone.
So he expected this visit to go just like all the others before. He would head into town in his beat-up truck and try to ignore the voices of panicking judgment in his ears. Get the things he needed for the next month or two, and leave before the stuff people thought got the best of him and he would snap.
So far, all was going well. He'd gone to the hardware store and managed not to roll his eyes at the lady thinking, "I hope he doesn't attack someone with that hammer." And he'd gone to the pharmacy and ignored the old man thinking, "I bet he's got a meth lab going in the woods." He had just one last stop, the general goods store, to pick up the last things on his list.
He was walking down the street to the store when a young woman ushered her child to the other side, when he hears, "Best not look at my child you freak."
That was it! You can think of him as a murder or even a drug dealer, but Daryl was not going to stand being thought of as a child abuser.
Daryl stopped and whipped around to tell the lady that he was no pedophile and that she should be ashamed of such a snap judgment. Yet, before he could open his mouth, or even focus his sights on her. His vision was blocked by another face crashing into his.
"Son of a bitch!" he yells out while cupping his throbbing nose. "Jesus Christ! How about you watch where you're going!"
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" the man says, "You're not bleeding are you?"
Daryl pulls his hand back to see his hand was clean, "No, no I think I'm alright."
The man sighs, "That's good! I thought I might have broken it. I've been told I'm a bit of a hard head." He laughs at his own joke. "But as long as you're okay,"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He looks over at the man and then realizes that this whole time he hadn't heard a single thought of the man's. Nothing. No smart remark, no fearful plea, no silent relief, nothing. He was just standing there with his pleased but still concerned expression.
"Then I'll be on my way, I'm already running late as it." He holds out his hand, and though still in a daze, Daryl takes it to shake. "My name's Paul Rovia."
"Daryl Dixon." He mumbles, while around them he can see the shocked and worried looks of those watching their interaction, but again no thoughts. Had the blow to the head knocked it out of him? Was that really all it took? If so why didn't any of the ones his father had given him work?
"Well take care, Daryl." The man rushes past him and then turns to run backward and say, "Sorry again for running into you." He says with a wave before turning right way around and disappearing around the corner. Then, like the dam broke, they all come rushing back with their annoying voices. -
"Did you see that? He just let him walk off like that."
"That poor man is as good as dead!"
"Should I have pizza or lasagna?"
"I need to call the doctor to look at this blister."
"Damn, that Greene girl is so hot!"
- Daryl claps his hands over his ears, though it doesn't do him any good, and rushes to the store.
Thankfully, the people here had no idea of the odd collision that just happened. So their thoughts were back to normal. With a deep breath, he strides through the store to collect the things he needs so he can be on his way.
While browsing the personal hygiene aisle, he overhears a woman talking to someone else on the next aisle over, "Yeah his name is Paul, and he has reasonable rates. You should give him a call and get Tyler in his classes." Daryl's interest peeks so he listens attentively.
"Where has he set up shop?" the other woman asks.
"You know the old pet shop? The one with the big open windows?"
"Yeah, okay, I know where you mean. Down at the end of Main street right?"
"Right. He's renting …" The two women start to walk off and Daryl is unable to hear them anymore over the thoughts of people saying he looks like a creep for standing in front of the tampons and staring at the floor. Shaking his head, he grabs what he came down this aisle for, toothpaste and body wash, and heads to the front to check out.
With his things paid for, Daryl wastes no time getting to his truck and leaving town. He needed to think about what had happened and couldn't do that with 50 other voices muddling in.
He couldn't explain it. Why was he driving back into town only a day after his last visit? Normally, it would be at least a month before his next trip. Yet, this morning when he got up, he got ready, got in his truck and started for the town before he really knew why. Like something was pulling him there.
He says something when he knows it's more like someone.
All night, he'd thought about how for one brief moment, he had only his voice in his head. How for the first time since he was a child, he was able to hear the birds without being 10 miles deep in the woods. And how for some reason that he couldn't understand, some stranger with a beard and hair longer than his, was behind it. So his hunter's instinct took over, and he began hunting down that sense of peace again.
The townspeople also seemed shocked he'd returned and their thoughts just reinforced that notion that he was different than them and unwelcomed. Daryl, however, could care less what they were thinking at the moment and continued to walk through the town searching for the man that ran into him.
He'd walked all the way to one end of Main street looking for an old pet shop with large open windows with no luck. He was about to head back to the end when he passed a building he originally thought was empty upon first inspections. Yet this time, the lights were on and someone was dragging heavy mats across the floor.
While he stood there wondering if this was the place and if that was Paul himself, he sees the reflection of someone passing behind him on the street. Not knowing he can see them, they stare at him as they pass, but just like yesterday, there was nothing.
Daryl closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of relief. This was it, the calm he wanted all his life, he'd finally found it. Then, just as before, it came back in flash.
"Someone should call the police on him and just have him locked up for good."
His eyes pop open and he looks down the street at the person who just passed by. He then looks back through the window and sees that the man has disappeared. "Where did he go?" he leans forward and peers through the glass looking for the man. A moment later, he comes back out from the back and is dressed differently.
His hair is pulled up in a messy bun, he'd lost his shirt and shoes, and was left only in loose fitting pants. Daryl steps back from the window wondering just what kind of class this was he was running. He debates just leaving now and saying forget the man, but when he starts to move, Daryl finds himself planted in place.
In a second, the man is throwing punches and kicking at punching bag with such speed and force, it's a wonder the thing didn't bust open. He recalls how bright and happy he had seemed yesterday after he'd ran into him, but to see him now, it's clear the man was lethal under that smile.
He watches the man to the point where he knows it's becoming creepy and decides he should either leave or make his presences known. Balling up his fist, he hesitates but brings it up to knock on the window.
The man stops mid-strike and turns to look in his direction. Paul's face lights up when he sees him and he hurries over to the door to unlock it. "Hey, didn't expect you see you so soon. Please come in, come in." He steps aside and Daryl steps in.
"How's the nose?" he asks while wiping the sweat from his face, "Wait! You're not here to give me some medical bill are you?"
"No, said I was fine."
"Oh, then you must be here to sign up for the adult's class, right?" he flips his sweat rag over his shoulder and smiles proudly with his arms crossed.
Daryl scoffs, "No, but is that what you'd teach?" he says weekly pointing over at the punching bag.
Paul looks over at the bag and sighs, "Yeah, that's the goal. Though, it takes a lot of hard work and training to be about to do that." He says with a nod toward the bag. "Most people quit within the first 6 months because they think I'm just going to teach them how to do flying roundhouse kicks like in the movies and are disappointed when I don't."
"I see." He murmurs.
"But enough about me, what can I do for you?" Paul smiles.
"What?"
"Well, I don't wanna seem rude, but if you're not here give me a bill or join the class, then what did you come here for?"
"Oh, yeah," Daryl was so lost in the quite that he'd forgotten the whole reason he'd come in the first place. Although, now that he's here, he sees how insane just coming out and saying "Hey, I can read minds, but not when you're around. Any idea as to why that is?" so he just shrugs. "I was just passing by and saw you in the window."
"Oh, well, you're welcome to hang out here if you want. I mean I have the adult class coming around 10, but after that, I'm free till school lets out and the kids come around 4."
"No, that's okay." Daryl says with a shake of his head, "I don't want to be a bother."
"It's no bother really." Paul grins, "We have people sit in and watch all the time to see if they want to join up. So I'm sure the others won't even notice you're here."
"Trust me, they'll notice." He says disheartened. "Might even ruin your business if I'm spotted here, actually."
Paul's faces twist, "What does that mean?"
"Nothing, don't worry about it." He looks over at the door and knows he has to get out of there soon or he'll never want to leave. "I'll be going now."
"Well wait, wait," Paul grabs his arm and stops him, "how about I treat you to lunch?"
Now Daryl's the confused one, "Why would you do that?"
"Well, I guess as an apology for running into you like I did." He lets go of his arm and steps back nervously, "I felt kind of shitty just running off like that without offering to make it up to you in some way."
Daryl's cheeks start to burn and he looks down in attempt to hid it. "You don't have to do that."
"Your right, I don't have to." Paul shrugs, "but I'd still like to, if you'd let me, that is."
"I um…" his nerves get the best of him and his whole body starts to vibrate while his blood runs cold, "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Please, I mean, it's just lunch." He pleads, "What harm can come from lunch?"
"A lot, actually." Is what he wanted to say, but he could see that there was no getting out of this without being rude and flat out refusing. "Alright, fine" he nods.
"Great!" Paul beams "So the uh, adult class is over at 11:30. So how about I just meet you outside after that? Sound good?"
"Yeah, okay. I'll just uh," he looks out the window and fears having to back out there where he can hear everything, "hang around town until then I guess."
"Alright then, I'm gonna go get ready for class now," He starts to back up and grins, "so I'll see you later okay?"
"Yep."
"Good. Great, okay see ya soon." With that, he turns and runs off through a back door and out of sight.
With a dreadful sigh, Daryl turns to leave the building, and as soon as he steps out on to the street, the voices start. -
"Where has that cat gone this time?"
"Did I remember to turn on the alarm this morning?"
"I wish that bitch would get hit by a car already!"
"I wonder if I'll have kids one day."
- Gritting his teeth and tightening his fist, he forces himself to head deeper into the town, therefore deeper into the chasm of thoughts.
As he walks down the sidewalk for the second day in a row, he didn't know if he would be able to listen to everyone's inner monologs for the next two hours. He considers saying fuck it and heading home, but every time he would turn around to start for his truck, he would imagine Paul's disappointed face, and stop. His curiosity about the man and his infatuation over the peace he brought, was strong enough that he could endure the barrage of musing townsmen.
"Why is that fucking creep here again?"
At least he hoped.
Daryl tried to hang around town, he really did. But after sitting on a park bench for about 20 minutes, and hearing multiple threats to call cops if he did something mundane, he decided he needed to find a better spot to wait.
Somewhere that wasn't out in the open.
So he went to the library, thinking at least the people there could give him a story to listen to as they read. However, it was clear he wasn't welcomed there either when he walked in and the lady behind the counter clinched her book and thought, "Please don't rape me."
He didn't even bother sitting down.
So, he spent the last hour lingering outside the old pet shop out of sight, enjoying the brief moment's Paul would be close enough to block out the world. He wasn't sure why being around Paul turned off his ability but, right now, he wasn't going to question it too much. Maybe later, but not now.
Around the corner, he hears the verbal chatter of the adults leaving Paul's class. Rising to his feet, he steps out enough to watch them leave, but not far enough for them to notice him. As each one left, he felt a sense of relief that he couldn't hear anything outside what they said aloud.
After the last of the attendees came out, Daryl waited a moment longer, then stepped out on to the street to stand in front of the building. He didn't know the time exactly, but if the others had left, it shouldn't be long before Paul would be coming out.
In fact, it wasn't a minute later when the door swung open and out stepped the man. "Oh hey. I expected I would have to wait for you not the other way around."
"Yeah, I'd run out of things to do in town. So I came back sooner." He lies.
"Oh, well I hope you didn't wait long." Daryl just shakes his head. "You don't talk much do you?" he shakes his head again and Paul laughs, "That's alright, I won't force you to talk if you don't want to."
Daryl gives a crooked grin, "Thanks."
"Anytime. So, any ideas of where you'd like to go?" Paul starts to walk down the street and Daryl automatically follows.
It's been years since Daryl had been out to eat that he honestly had no idea what there was around here to eat. "Not really. Haven't had someone else make my food since my mom died."
"So you do a lot of cooking then? That's good. I couldn't cook if my life depended on it." He laughs, and Daryl appreciates that he doesn't probe about his mother. "Since it's still kinda early, how about we just grab a couple sandwiches down at the Sub Shack?"
"Sounds good."
"Okay then."
They continued their walk in silence and Daryl really starts to wonder what it was about the man that made him act as a signal jammer for his ability. Everyone stared as they passed, which Daryl was used to, but to do it in total peace was a new experience.
One he could easily get spoiled on.
When they walked into the Sub Shack, Paul pointed over at the table next to the window, "There's a table." He says then heads that way. Daryl follows, despite feeling uncomfortable about sitting next to the window where anyone walking by can see them.
There was a simple menu left on the table that each of them looked over for a moment before the waitress came and took their order. While they waited Daryl picked at his dirty nails and tried not to look Paul in the eye. "You don't like people all that much do you?"
Shocked, he looked up to see a sad but understanding look on Paul's face. "What makes you think that?"
"Just little things I've noticed."
"Like?"
"Well," Paul takes a deep breath, "You watch your feet as you walk, you avoid eye contact, you're fidgeting, you try to hide your face with your hair. Not to mention you said it's been a while since anyone has made you food, so that screams you live alone and like it."
"So?"
"So what? I didn't say it was a bad thing." He laughs.
"Yeah, well," Daryl lend back and crossed his arms, "I don't like how two-faced everyone is. Constantly saying one thing and thinking something completely different."
"But that's how everyone is, and just because they think it doesn't mean it's true."
"Doesn't mean it hurts any less either."
"Well, that's true too." He laughs. "So it's a good thing we can't read minds then huh?"
"Yeah." He sighs sadly. "Guess so."
Soon after, the waitress returns with their food and the two start to eat. Not much more was said, until they were about half done with their plates, and Paul asked, "How is it?"
Daryl shrugs, "It's alright. Little bland for what I'm used to."
"Oh? And what are you used to?"
"Well, not sandwiches."
"So what do you normally eat then?"
"Whatever I feel like making really. I hunt and keep a garden, so everything is always fresh and unprocessed."
"Wow, so when you say you cook, you really mean you cook." He awes, "So, do you buy anything?"
"Not really. Not to eat anyway." He admits. "I mean, I buy things I can't make like soap, toothpaste, clothes and things when I need them, but other than that no."
"Wow. So almost completely off the grid." Daryl nods, "That's amazing."
Daryl's stomach flips. No one's ever called his way of life amazing or seemed interested in actually talking to him about it. "It's just how I've always done it."
"So then no real job?" Daryl shakes his head no, "Then how do you have money to buy the stuff you do need?"
"I got a settlement when my mom died from the insurance." He admits. "Couldn't touch it till I was 18, and I don't spend more than a few hundred every few months, so it's lasted me a while."
"Oh. I see."
The silence returns for a moment, but he can tell Paul really wants to ask about his mother. He's already mentioned her death twice and he's been polite enough not to question it.
"It was a house fire." He volunteers.
"What?"
"It's how she died." He glances up at him timidly, "A house fire."
"That's… that's awful. I'm so sorry."
"I was 12 so I don't remember much about her."
"Still, it's a terrible way to go."
"Yeah." Daryl nods and starts to pick at his food, "It's actually the first time I've talked out loud about her."
"We'll like I said, I won't force you to talk about it if you don't want to."
Daryl doesn't say anything else.
After they eat, Paul goes to pay for their food and Daryl steps out to have a smoke and wait for him. While outside, some other patrons come out and start talking about them.
"Wasn't that the new karate instructor with the weirdo?" the man says.
"Yeah, I was told he holds a good glass for the kids, but if that's the kind of people he hangs out with, I don't know I'd want my kids in his class." The woman replies.
"I know what you mean. If you lay with the dogs-"
"You what?" he speaks ups so the duo knows he's there and can hear what they are saying.
The two of them stutter out something incoherent, while he glares at them through his cigarette smoke. Taking a quick glance inside, he sees that Paul isn't looking and takes his chance. "Your best bet is to get the fuck out of my sight before I count to three."
"What!?" the man scoffs, "You think we're just going to leave just because you say so?"
"One."
"Honey let's just go." His girlfriend says clearly scared.
"Two." He tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out.
"Man you're lucky my girls here, or I would have-"
"Just drop it and let's go!" the woman interrupts while tugging on his arm till he finally decided to go with her.
Paul walks out just in time to see the two of them walking off. "Friends of yours?"
"Never spoke to them before now."
"Oh well, just seen you talking through the window so I just assumed,"
"Well, you know what they say about assuming things." He glances down at his feet and knows he has to nip this in the bud before it goes too far. "Look," he looks up at Paul who was smiling just like always. He hatted to ruin that. "thanks for lunch, but I don't think it's wise if we see each other again."
"What?" his smile falls and he looks hurt, "Why? I thought we were getting along."
"We were. We are." He stutters. "It's just… if you're seen with me anymore… it won't be good for you."
"What does that mean?"
"Don't worry about it. Let's just draw the line here, okay?"
"Yeah, but, did I do something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing you did, I'm just not the best person for you to try and be friends with, alright?"
Paul couldn't seem to grasp the Daryl was trying to save him from being a marked man like him. If they were to make this routine, word would spread, and Paul's business was sure to fail and he would be out of a job. Setting him up to be mocked and ridiculed behind his back just for associating with him, and that was something Daryl couldn't stand. Not after he'd been so kind to him.
"Look, I gotta go. See ya around." Daryl starts to walk away despite desperately wanting to stay in the bubble of tranquility Paul had surrounding him.
"One, two, three," he counts the steps to see how far he gets before the voices come back, "Six, seven, eight,"
"I gotta go to the bank, then the store, pick up the kids-"
Daryl quickly looks back and sees Paul has started to walk the other way. With his 9 steps, and whatever Paul had walked, Daryl figured the bubble worked as long as he was within 15 feet of the man.
Too bad he planned to never get that close to him again.