The truth?
The truth was that the zombie apocalypse wasn't a scratch off Daryl's nose.
Merle's death? Losing everyone he'd ever known? Losing common commodities, losing any and all comfort, losing everything?
It didn't matter so much.
Merle used to beat him within an inch of his life for being "weak", nearly as much as their father used to. Daryl wandered, following his big brother like a stray feral cat with no purpose and no meaning besides being the very bottom of the food chain. And that was before the world ended.
Comfort? Never heard of it.
Fighting? Bring it on, it's nothing new.
Anarchy? He called it Sunday dinner.
No, the end of the world was another thing that had yet again failed to kill Daryl Dixon, and he was starting to wonder why. His life's big tragedy wasn't losing his brother or the old world or his parents or anything you might call to mind in his crappy life, both pre and post apocalypse.
No, the thing that ripped him up inside was losing the prison.
Now the world was ending. Now HIS world was ending.
Rick, Carl, Michonne, little ass-kicker… hell, even Carol and Bob and Tyresse and Hershel and… and everyone.
He had Beth. That was it. Innocent, strong-will, blonde and big-eyed Beth of all people, and how the hell was he supposed to keep her alive?! She didn't deserve to die, no one in that prison did, but they did and she would… he was only counting down the days until he failed yet another person.
He couldn't look at her, he couldn't speak. He didn't know what to do but to keep going, business as always. When he lost her…
What would he do? He couldn't be alone out here, that much he knew. He'd joined the group way back in Atlanta against Merle's objections because he knew… he might be no good with people, but he still needed people. Even if it was only Beth, she was the only thing he had. If there was no reason…
Damn, he'd never needed a reason before now. But now he did.
Because he got a taste of… something. That weird something, that weird life he lived back at the prison, where no matter how much of an ass he was people still… I dunno, stayed. And not just because they had nowhere else to go, but they willingly put up with him. People still approached him, they still talked to him, they still needed him.
Somewhere along the lines that gave him strength. He could do anything if someone needed him to. If Rick asked, he'd do it. If Carl or Judith needed it, he'd move heaven and hell to get it. If those people, all those good people wanted something, he would do his damndest to get it for them.
But they were gone.
Now there was Beth. He would do anything for her. That's what kept him going—keeping her safe.
But when she went… not just if, but when… he knew he'd have no strength left to… to do whatever the hell was left to do.
He needed people. He needed some sort of drive, he just…
No, the end of the world was just another thing. But losing the prison to that damned man…
Despite the fact they were picking their way through a forest with no end in sight and the sky stretching up above… he felt like he was slowly being cornered into a small, tight space. He felt like the trees were bars and he was itching to get by them but clueless as to how.
His time was running out, and his world was getting smaller.