I just watched the door. Like something would happen. No I just didn't want to see Daryl's lifeless body.

I felt his hand jerk. I looked down at it. When it moved again I let a tear roll down my cheek as I held his hand.

More tears fell as he squeezed back.

I cautiously looked at his face. His eyelids started to gently flutter open. I put my free hand on his cheek.

His eyes. His eyes weren't blue anymore. They weren't beautiful anymore. They were empty, depression. The whites of his eyes were red, almost black. The blue was now white and gray, they almost looked silver. His mouth opened a little and there was a slight groan in his breath. He looked at me. He moved his hands up onto my arms to pull himself up on. I grabbed my gun.

All I remembered was him saying that he would thank you while you put him down.

He got closer to my shoulder. His grunts got louder, and I cried as I pointed the gun at his head.

"I'm sorry, Daryl"

I pulled the trigger. I caught him before he fell and laid him down gently.

I picked up his hand and cried like he was still with me.


Carl opened the gate for me. I had to walk back. I got there on the back of Daryl's bike and I wasn't even gonna try driving it.

"Where's Daryl?"

I walked past him and his eyes wandered to my bloody hands and face.

Rick walked up to me with the same question "Where's Daryl?"

I looked at my hands. At the blood. And I started to cry. Rick pulled me into his arms and I could tell that he was crying too.


They wanted to give him a funeral but everybody admitted that they just didn't have the heart to go if there was one.

After they buried and went inside I hung around and covered his cross in Cherokee roses. It was the least I could do. It was our flower.

And besides, I still love him.