I was 21 years old.

I was a fan of AMC's The Walking Dead.

I was in love with Daryl Dixon, the crossbow toting redneck that rode a motorcycle. He was badass and beautiful, he gave me something to believe in in my sad, lonely existance and everytime my life got rough, I'd whisper...

"Daryl is love, Daryl is life" for reassurance and peace.

My dad has a mancrush on Daryl Dixon.

My dad though thinks I should get a life, therefore, he has cut off the internet to prevent me from seeing Daryl on image searches and forbidden me from watching The Walking Dead on season premiere night.

Tonight is premiere night.

I am alone in my room, deeply saddened. It is an hour before The Walking Dead begins.

I close my eyes and whisper softly, "Daryl is love, Daryl is life.."

An arrow shoots through my open window then and pieces through my closet it door. Could it be?

And following that, to my surprise in climbs Daryl Dixon through my window in all his beautiful, grungy glory. I am so happy.

He pulls his arrow out of the wood frame of my closet and says, "My bad" in his quiet, southern voice.

I take off my shirt and pants in offering myself to my master.

"What are you doin'?" He asks me and wraps a bedsheet around me for clarity. I am confused by this. "I'm just here to help you..."

My dad hears all this and barges in.

"What in the hell are you doing with my daughter, buddy?!"

Daryl has none of this and shoots him with his crossbow. I hug my gorgegous hero then so hard he can't breathe.

"Your mom at werk?" Daryl asks me when I let him go and continue to take the rest of my clothes off in honor of his presence.

"Yes. So you must take me now she can achieve her one life wish..." I reply.

"An' that is?"

"To have a grandchild."

Daryl then agrees to make wild, passionate love to me and I spread myself out on the bed for my love and anxiously await to take his seed. Daryl unzips himself and slides his long, achey love muscle as equally gritty as the rest of him inside me and it feels as good as I had dreamed, better even. He timidly takes his time and dominates me, makes me his little sex toy, but insists on pleasing me. I get off over and over for him, for his beautiful face, his sweaty, stringy hair, his beady blue eyes. I come so much he finally burns stamina and has to come himself, but I understand though. And in a big, loud orgasm, Daryl gives me his sticky seed.

My mother pulls in the driveway, home from work, in time for The Walking Dead. I put on a robe as Daryl grabs his crossbow and nods to me.

"Take care of our little asskicker," he says and jumps out my window, disappearing in the night.

Daryl is love, Daryl is life.