Daryl paced the barn. One foot in front of the other, back and forth across the long aisle and wearing a rut into the dirt floor. He shouldn't have let her go alone. He knew, logically, that it was a bad idea but when she looked at him like making that decision on her own was the most important thing he couldn't be just another man that took a choice from her.
So he watched her speed out of the driveway and turn the corner and had been a pile of nerves ever since. That was almost two hours ago. Which was the cut off time before he had full license to whip out his phone and make sure she was still breathing.
Frustrated, he left the barn isle in favor of the kitchen, intent on getting a bottle of water from the mini fridge to fuel his stress induced pacing. A tiny mew from the counter floated over to greet him. The orange cat was in his usual spot next to an empty food dish, looking at Daryl like he was legitimately starving and may not make it another second.
Daryl sighed and drug out the cat food bag from the upper cabinet. Grabbed a handful and tossed it into the dish with a sneer. "You're gonna have a stroke."
The cat didn't respond to the insult, he never did. Just sucked down the dry food like a hoover and purred loud enough to rival a harley.
"It's been almost two hours. I can call her now, right?"
The cat didn't even acknowledge him, too intent on finishing the last few morsels remaining in the bottom of the dish to be bothered with Daryl's questions.
"Ten minutes ain't a big deal. I'm not gonna seem like a controlling bastard if I call her ten minutes early."
He stared at the cat again, who had finally finished stuffing his fluffy face and was staring back at him in response, having licked the bowl clean. He got another mew in return, asking for more food of course but Daryl only nodded. "You're right. It's fine. I'm callin' her. Jesus, I'm talking to the damn cat."
He palmed his cell phone, dialing the number he had on file for the horse. The one she had confirmed would ring the house. It rung once, twice, seven times and Daryl cursed under his breath before hanging up. Put the phone back in his pocket and fished out his car keys. He was going over there and it would take an act of god to stop him at this point.
His mind automatically jumped to the worst case scenario.
She could be dead. That asshole husband of hers could have been there when she got home and killed her in a fit of rage.
If she was lucky enough to still be alive then she could be seriously hurt. Just thinking of the other man putting his hands on her had Daryl white knuckling the steering wheel as he followed the GPS to the house. Trying to stay relatively close to the speed limit was a monumental task in itself. The desire to whip down the road past the one hundred mile mark was strong but the last thing he needed was to get pulled over and be forced to sit roadside for who knows how long while some douchebag cop took twenty minutes to write out a ticket.
He tried to distract himself with the radio but instantly regretted that choice when nothing but love songs filled the air. That was some depressing shit. Turned it back off and sat in silence, his thoughts drifting to how much things had changed in such a short amount of time.
Three weeks ago he'd only just met her. Three weeks ago she was just a client for a horse and nothing more. It was crazy and illogical to not only get involved in her life and offer these people a place to live, but also top billing in his every waking thought.
He didn't even know them. Didn't know her. Not really. Yet his heart was in his throat at the very idea of her being hurt and he didn't even think twice before suggesting she live with him. It felt right somehow, in much the same way it felt right to kiss her in a horse stall the previous night.
Which he hadn't meant to do at all. It wasn't like he'd set that scenario up just so he could get her in the right position to make a move. He didn't even realize he wanted to make a move as badly as he did until she was right in front of him like that, only inches away from his own space. Looking soft and sweet and like she wanted to kiss him too.
All of this was moving at a pace rapid enough to give him whiplash yet he couldn't find a single crumb of regret if he tried.
The roads were blessedly vacant as he drove into the city and he could only hope his worries were for nothing and she was no worse for the wear when he got there. Didn't believe for a moment they would be that fortunate.
When he pulled up to the nondescript house it looked normal and quiet on the outside and he instantly frowned. The sunny yellow door and calm blue paint was out of place and the sign that read 'Welcome To Our Happy Home' on the walkway made him want to throw up in his mouth just a little bit.
It was too normal and too quiet. These suburban nightmare homes always were. The more deep, dark secrets they held inside themselves the happier the shell appeared.
Daryl turned the knob and was surprised to find it already open. The inside of the house was just as ominous. Silent and erie like the moment in a horror movie before the jump scare and he was absolutely scared. Not for himself but for her. Called out her name and got no response which only made the fear tighten in his chest and surge up into his throat, threatening to choke him.
He checked all the lower level rooms and found nothing, climbed the stairs and entered the first door on the left and sucked in a hard breath through his teeth at the sight of her.
She was on the bed. Still, quiet, maybe unconscious but he couldn't tell just yet. The clear evidence of what had happened before he arrived stood out even from the doorway and he forced his feet to carry him across the room and place a shaking finger against the pulse in her neck. Was relieved to feel it thump steadily against his own skin.
There was blood dripping from her lip, a nasty bruise forming at her temple and a flourish of similar ones beginning to dot her arms and torso but she was otherwise ok. Or looked that way on the outside at least. No massive gaping wounds, no missing fingers, no welts across her pale skin. He ran a hand over her shoulder, letting his fingers rub there to try and wake her. Called out her name a few times but she didn't even twitch.
He was about to grab the phone and call an ambulance when she stirred, eyes fluttering open to look through him entirely before focusing on his presence and he instantly noticed the terror in her features. She gasped and backed away from him across the width of the bed, trying to escape without fully realizing what she was doing, one arm gripping her middle as she did so and he held up his hands in surrender.
"It's just me, you're all right."
She stopped a moment, looked at him with blank eyes that slowly transformed into knowing ones when she finally recognized him. Let herself fall back against the bed and clutch both hands across her stomach.
"Daryl?"
"Yeah, I'm here. I'm gonna call 911 and get you some help. Just hang tight." He tried to keep his voice calm and reassuring but inside he was coming apart at the seems and he was certain she could hear at least a fraction of that in his tone.
Her head flew up and she winced. "You can't. Don't call them, I'll be ok."
He just shook his head at her and reached around to his back pocket for his phone. He wasn't about to let her just sleep this off. It wasn't safe in the slightest and at the very least she deserved some decent pain killers. The emergency room had all the best stuff.
"You need someone to check you out, could have internal injuries. Can't go without a doctor."
She'd curled around to face him, knees up to her chest, the side of her face flat against the sheets and her panicked expression halted him as did the words that shook just slightly when she spoke.
"You don't understand. He's one of them. He's a paramedic. If you call them he'll come here, and if you take me there he'll know. They all know each other."
Daryl had no idea what the hell to say to that. His face scrunched up in confusion, unable to process the fact that someone who's job it was to save people would do something like this to his own wife. It was a special kind of twisted and he couldn't make sense of it but there would be time for that later because right now she was hurting on the bed in front of him, breathing in short gasps and holding herself like she might fall apart and he needed to make a choice.
"Alright I ain't gonna call them, we'll have Hershel look at you. He ain't a doctor but a vet is close enough."
She didn't respond and he rounded the bed to her other side, her back facing him and let his hand linger on her arm. "I'm gonna pick you up and we're gettin' out of here. Hold onto me if you can."
She only nodded and he wasted no time in scooping her off the bed and against his chest. The sound she made bounced off the walls in a tattered echo and he winced. Held her as gently as he could but had no doubt he was pressing on places that only made it worse.
They just had to leave this house, that was all that mattered right now. That he get her out of there and back to the farm and let Hershel work some sort of black magic on her to make her right as rain again.
She'd already passed out in his arms by the time he'd laid her across the backseat and his only thoughts as he backed out of the driveway and toward the freeway again were how much he cared about this woman he only barely knew, how he should probably keep her awake because she could have a concussion but how the fuck was he supposed to do that and drive too, and how much he wanted to gut her piece of shit husband the next time he saw his face.
