The door was still bangin' somewhere behind him
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He'd lost a lot of people in his life. He didn't want to add them up. Not 'cause it made him sad or nothin'. He just didn't like thinkin' about it much. But today, in the abandoned cellblock, her knife in his hand, he couldn't help but take inventory.
It started with his daddy- the cowardly son'o'bitch who'd shoved a double barrel in his mouth back when Daryl was only knee high to a grasshopper. He couldn't remember much about the man 'cept his brown belt as it came down hard on his ass.
After they'd cleaned his brains off the trailer wall, Daryl hadn't thought much about him. He hadn't known any diff'rent at all, really, 'cept that Ma had changed. She'd gone cold after that.
She'd taken to cheap wine, Virginia Slims, and her bed mostly.
Merle'd stepped in as the daddy… belt 'n all. He'd just been a kid though, so it wasn't long before he cracked under the pressure and started bouncin' in 'n outta the slammer.
After the dead started bein' not dead anymore and the whole world went to shit, Daryl was grateful that at least he had someone. But then Merle'd got himself left behind and that was that…
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Daryl looked at the knife in his hand… he'd been driving it into the cement floor for a while now. He'd made a right mess of the blade…
Ma had gone in a fire. He'd been just a boy at the time. He'd spent some time in the system after that; different home every week or so. Some o' them familes'd tried real hard but there was only so much you could do to fix up a busted old barn. Once the termites got in and ate the good parts all you could do is tear it down or let it rot.
There'd been others in there… but Sophia… she was the next one that left him raw. It wasn't that she was special or nothin'. She wasn't much of anything really. Just a shy kid who didn't have much'ta say.
Maybe it was 'cause of her daddy and the way he'd been, but he'd wanted to find her. So that someone would have a chance to make her new again. He didn't want her to die feelin' like an old barn. But she'd gone too. And now her mother….
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He gripped the knife tightly and wondered how it was at the end for Carol.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He looked over his shoulder at the door. Maybe she'd held out for a while.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He'd accepted she was dead - but it made him feel somethin'. Like it hurt his stomach to think that he'd never cringe as she made a pass at him again. Or have her check in with him again… care. He hadn't been ready for it to be the last time.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
But the dead didn't come back… not like that anyway - he looked at the door then pushed himself to his feet and started down the hall, clenching her knife in his hand, burying the list of the dead inside him again, Carol on the bottom of it.
No point in thinkin' it over anymore.
The dead didn't come back.
