What would you do to save the life of someone you love? Please tell me because I'm running out of time. He's only five feet away from me, but his eyes won't open no matter how many times I call his name.
Blood trickles from his mouth and drips onto the concrete floor. If his chest wasn't rising and falling, I would assume he's dead. And if that were the case…
"Daryl!" My voice is hardly more than a hoarse crack. I've been screaming for him so much that I've forgotten about my own health.
My focus attaches onto the gun on the other side of flimsy fence. The walkers step on it, around it, over it, paying no attention to it. The chains rattle loud enough that I know it will draw more of those creatures in.
I stumble and fall, taking Daryl's rough, cracked fingers in mine. I let out a hysterical, pathetic chuckle. These hands that circle perfectly around mine were the sole reason I felt safe – felt strong enough to keep fighting. They gave me hope that the world couldn't stay this way forever and that someday on a perfect paradise island, I would take these hands in mine – wrinkled and worn – and smile at the man I survived the end of the world and grew old with.
But now, mine tremble around his. I'm scared – no, I'm terrified.
"Daryl, please," I beg, staring at the walkers separated by only a chain-link fence. "Please, open your eyes. I don't know what to do."
So, what would you do to save the life of someone you love? Would you take a chance and fight through the walkers for the gun? Or would you see the world as I used to and let the walkers eat away at what's left of you?
Because let's face it: even death is better than living through his hell.
