She was right, and Daryl Dixon wanted to hate her for it.
You're going to miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.
He did miss her bad. Two weeks later and everything was mired in a foggy mental haze that seemed like it might never lift. It was unending, just like the highway they'd been traveling down since burying Beth outside of Atlanta.
He saw her everywhere; in dreams, in shadows, in a stray ray of sunlight that burst through the trees. This would pass, he knew. Pain lingered, but it always eased up eventually. Loss was simply a part of life, especially here in the post-apocalyptic world they now lived in.
He'd been able to move on from the loss of his brother Merle; he would be able to move on from this.
Moving on was all any of them could do now.
"You okay?" Rick Grimes asked.
Daryl looked around at the seemingly endless expanse of trees unfolding before them. They just kept following the road, hoping and believing it would lead them somewhere better. Daryl had his doubts about that. They'd been plenty of places, and none of them were ever truly better, were they?
"I'm fine," said Daryl.
There she was again. Standing before him. Wearing that yellow shirt he remembered so well.
"Why won't you leave me alone?"
She didn't respond. She just moved forward.
He knew it wasn't her. It wasn't Beth. It was a walker, nothing more. He didn't know this one, didn't care to either. Let her come.
Still, his eyes kept telling him that this was her. When he looked at the walker he saw Beth. Even though she'd been shot in the head and he'd seen her buried.
What were you supposed to do when your own senses conspired against you and showed you a world that didn't exist? Was this how it had been for Rick after Lori's death? He'd come out okay from that one, eventually. Daryl knew he would too.
He stood patiently, staring at the walker as she stumbled hungrily towards him.
Daryl stabbed an arrow into the head of the would-be Beth.
"Haven't I been through enough already?" Daryl stood there waiting for tears that never came.
"We need to keep moving," said Rick. "It's gonna be nightfall soon. We need to find shelter."
Shelter that night was an abandoned house in a neighborhood that could have been just about anywhere in Georgia. Daryl found a spot to settle down near the back of the house, next to the washer and dryer. The rest of the group gave him his space without his having to ask for it, and he was grateful for that in some ways and not so grateful in others.
Space meant he was alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren't going to give him distance or comfort tonight. They rarely did lately.
Naturally, his thoughts drifted to Beth.
There had been a moment, ever so brief, when he had let his guard down and let Beth inside his defenses. No words were spoken, but they didn't have to be. Sometimes you just knew. She had known; he was sure of that. And then, like a shadow in the night, the moment was gone. Death had knocked on their door, and he had foolishly opened it wide and let that cruel bastard come inside.
If she was here now he would have told her My bad, and maybe he would have said more. Not that he needed to. Words were heavy things. They weighed you down.
Beth Greene had shown him how to live, and the only way he could honor her memory was to keep doing that. Somehow, someway, he would keep living.
Daryl looked up and noticed a small window on the wall across from where he was lying. He could see a single star twinkling in the sky outside the window.
Daryl Dixon closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. In the morning he would wake up and he would move on. If Beth was here she would have told him that's what he had to do. Anything less would be a betrayal of her memory.