You are all so kind to me and I honestly adore reading all of your reviews. I know for a fact now that this is the last update I will be able to give you before Christmas and please ignore any obvious mistakes - I've not had chance to check over this chapter because I've written it all in the space of an hour or so, and consider it to be a gift for all of the amazing and wonderful reviews you left for me.
Merry Christmas!
Perhaps it's ironic - a little bit funny, in a sick and twisted sort of way - that she stumbled upon Daryl Dixon just under an hour after she had stopped silently begging for him to come and find her, to take her home.
It wasn't as though Beth was naive enough to have ever expected Daryl to play the role of some sort of knight in shining armour; a Prince Charming character with an overwhelming hero complex and a huge ego to boot. It had been obvious to her from the minute that they had locked eyes with one another across a dark and smoky bar that Daryl Dixon was anything but soft, and he was hardly the type of man who would - or maybe even could - rescue her. In the few times that they had met, Daryl had just never seemed as though he was that way inclined whatsoever; and as far as Beth was concerned, that was absolutely fine.
It wasn't as though she found herself being stuck in a 'damsel in distress' situation on a regular basis, anyway.
Still, regardless of what she had known to be fact from the minute that she had seen him, Beth couldn't help the fact that she had invested so much hope into this man as she prayed that perhaps he would play that role - just this once, just for her - over the course of the last forty eight hours or so.
Because it had to have been coming up to nearly three days since she had been snatched away from the side of the street as she made her way home from college. Despite the fact that her father was a confused and deteriorating alcoholic, Beth knew that he still loved his youngest daughter very much and that he would have been at least somewhat concerned about her whereabouts over the last few days.
But whether or not Hershel Greene had been making a conscious effort to get into contact with her in her absence or whether or not he would have reported her as missing to any of the local authorities - well, that was just a completely different story.
It wasn't as though either of her siblings found themselves having regular contact with their father, too; and considering the fact that it was perfectly normal for them all to not speak to each other for a few days here and there, Beth doubted that they would really be concerned about her whereabouts just yet. After the way that Hershel had behaved towards both himself and those around him since Annette's death, both of the older Greene children had given up on their father; deciding that the man was too far gone to help or to save.
Beth always kept it in her mind that her daddy had a problem - he had always had a problem, he had just gotten better at managing it for a while - and the mantra of 'we all grieve in different ways' played on repeat in her mind as she battled with him on a daily basis to help him fight his addiction. The whole thing was exhausting and it was draining, but that man was her father - her kin, her flesh and blood - and no matter what Shawn or Maggie wanted to do about it all, Beth knew in her heart that she would never give up on him.
The last few days had been absolute hell for her, though, and the men who had taken her away had been worse than any of the evil characters that she had ever read about in novels or seen in any movie. They were aggressive and harsh and rude; locking her inside an old, damp and abandoned warehouse, bounding her by the wrists and ankles to keep her pressed firmly against the piping of the room. None of the men even bothered to flinch or pretend to feel uncomfortable every time that they tormented her or raised a hand to her, and the whole time that she had been within their presence had been a complete and utter nightmare turned real.
As soon as they had let her out - yeah, after all that, they literally let her walk free - Beth had sobbed in pure and utter relief and had ran as fast as she possibly could.
Over her few days in the warehouse, Beth had come to realise that the man who was in charge - the tall skinny one with the eye patch whose name she still did not know - didn't ever really do anything for himself. Instead, the men who he had working for (or with) him acted as though they were his slaves, carrying out every single command and order that he barked in their direction and making sure that they did exactly as he said as accurately as they possibly could, down to the last detail.
And wow, they just loved to smack her.
At first, the blonde had put up what she considered to be a strong and stubborn fight in protest against them. Whenever they touched her, she would squirm, whenever they moved towards her she would kick or buck wildly - but every time that she reacted in such a manner, it seemed as though the men became impossibly worse. By putting up a fight, Beth just seemed to be encouraging them to continue the way that they were, and that realisation alone was enough to encourage her to put a stop to her behaviour.
It didn't take long for Beth to understand that these men desperately wanted information from her - important information, 'classified' information - regarding The Brother's Arms. They had questions (so, so many questions) about Daryl and his older brother and his biker club - 'where do they store the guns?' or 'why don't you tell us a little bit more about the one you're fuckin, huh?' - but they never attempted to answer any of her own - 'why won't you just listen to me?' or 'don't you get that I don't even know him?'
More than anything, the whole situation was frustrating because no matter how terribly Beth wanted to actually give them an answer just to make their torture stop - just to make their wandering hands pry away, to encourage their slaps to not be so hard and their punches to not be so forcefully thrown - she couldn't, because she honestly didn't know shit. There was absolutely no information whatsoever stored inside of her brain regarding the club or the man who she barely even knew; and after almost three days worth of swearing to all of the men that she didn't know anything, as in literally an-y-thing, it finally seemed like they might have finally accepted the fact that she had been telling the truth.
Their realisation came at a price, though - and that price included her standing topless in the middle of a room filled with seven men; men who had bruised and beaten her, men who had taunted her and tormented her - men who had obeyed their leader's commands. And it was only when their leader stood in front of her with a sharp knife pointed at her lower abdominal area that she finally allowed herself to completely break down, and it was only when Beth sobbed loudly into the small room and swore over and over again that she didn't know anything with a blade pointed at her stomach that any of the men actually believed that she really was innocent in all of this.
They didn't apologise to her (not that Beth expected that from them at all), but they did let her go. Simple as that, really - and it was shocking how easy it actually was for her just to pull her dirty grey tee shirt over her head and to pull her jeans back up from where they had been tugged down to her knees and for her to walk out of the building.
Albeit, she did so on shaky legs, but she made it all the same.
Walking came easier to her after a few minutes, and even though the rope that she had been tied with had left friction burn marks on her wrists and her ankles, it wasn't necessarily painful - not even as the wind blew against it in a way that made it sting. With damp cheeks and dulled eyes, Beth walked for what felt like it was forever - although it couldn't possibly have been that long at all before she found herself on a road, and she wasn't even that sure where it was in particular that she was walking - and after around two and a half hours of walking in a straight line down an impossibly long road, Beth heard the familiar rumble of an engine approaching from behind her.
The blonde didn't bother to turn around to acknowledge the person who was riding past. It wasn't the first vehicle she would have come across on her journey (journey to where exactly, she wasn't entirely sure), but it was the first one to come to a stop. The sound of tires skidding across the tarmac made her flinch - the noise was too loud and incredibly unwanted - but then there was the sound of her name being called out, and she stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of his voice.
She didn't move to turn around, but Beth did continue to stand completely still and stare straight ahead. There was no sound coming from behind her, but Beth had a feeling that Daryl was edging slowly towards her, and she almost smiled to herself as she imagined the confused expression that she would find upon his face in that moment.
Carefully, Beth inhaled and exhaled several times - trying to calm her wild heart that was beating at least twice as quickly as it normally did - and she fought the tears from her eyes as she recalled how desperately she had wanted this man to come to her rescue over the last two and a half days. It had been horrific being tortured that the way that she had been, and although it could have been worse - at least none of the men raped her like the animals that she knew they were, at least they didn't force themselves upon her in any way that wasn't with their fists against her face and her upper body - it had still been a living hell.
And it wasn't his fault. Not really.
(But it still kind of was, and Beth wasn't sure whether or not she was annoyed at Daryl or whether she was annoyed at herself or whether she was just annoyed at the world for throwing this at her.)
After a good few seconds of composing herself, Beth slowly turned around so that she was facing Daryl, and her light blue eyes locked with his much darker ones immediately. She had assumed correctly in that he had moved towards her, but he wasn't quite as close as she had thought he would have been by now, and instead of confused, Daryl just looked... hesitant.
But then he saw something. Maybe it was the yellow, green and purple bruises that were littered across her body, maybe it was her torn and ripped clothing or the dark marks above and underneath her light eyes. Maybe it was the long cut on her cheek that had long since coated over with dirt and dry blood, or maybe it was the split in her puffy, swollen lips. But it was something, anyway - or maybe even all of it - and it made his expression change almost immediately.
Daryl's entire body turned tense and even from this distance, Beth could notice how his eyes suddenly turned incredibly dark. It was almost frightening and it was anything but entirely sane, but Beth liked it all the same.
God - she actually liked it.
(Maybe they had hit her head a little too hard.)
So from the signs that he was offering to her, it seemed as though he was angry, too.
Good. Beth thought that he probably should have been.
Between them, it was deadly silent whilst Daryl clenched and unclenched his fists, and after a short amount of time, his angry expression did soften ever so slightly and his eyes grew less harsh. It was evident that he was fighting some sort of internal conflict - a mixture of shock and anger and concern - and after what felt as though it could have been hours, he finally opened his mouth to speak.
"What the fuck happened?" he asked her, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the fact that his voice was rougher than usual and his words were coarse.
And against everything that she was feeling - the ache in her muscles, the chill in her bones, the wetness of her eyes that filled with tears again at the sound of his voice - Beth's lips curved upwards into a smile, and as tears began to trickle down her face once more, she began to laugh.
Everything that happens is a blur, and Beth is honestly completely clueless as to how on earth she manages to make it from the side of the road that she had been walking down to lying on an unfamiliar bed, at least a dozen pillows propping her upright and two thick duvets curled around her tiny body.
There are some things that buzz around in her memory - she can vaguely recall the feel of Daryl's strong and supportive arms as they wrapped around her shaking form, the sound of his gruff and panicked voice as he spoke down the phone to an unknown person, the sound of people (both men and women) shouting and yelling and generally arguing around her. But the words that had been said are all foreign to her brain; just noises and sounds that she can't seem to make any sense of, and it is only now as she blinks open her eyes and stares up at the pale ceiling of the room that Beth can begin to think straight once again.
Sat at her bedside is none other than Carol; the woman who is at least twenty, if not thirty, years Beth's senior, and the last person who the blonde was expecting to see when she finally opened her eyes. Carol juggles two jobs - one working as a waitress at the local diner and the other working as a barmaid at the bar where both Daryl and her father seem to frequent - and Beth recalls that she has a daughter, too, although she cannot remember her age. Although the two women had never really interacted with each other (just the one time when Carol had been left with no choice but to ask her to collect her drunken daddy), Beth immediately feels her body calm at the presence of someone who is at least half familiar to her, and the kind smile that Carol offers the younger woman is more than slightly reassuring, too.
"You're awake," the grey haired woman murmurs, her voice soft and gentle, and as much as Beth wants to speak back to her, she finds that all she has the energy to do right now is to nod her head up and down in response.
As Carol examines her face, her bright blue eyes narrow, and Beth knows that she must look absolutely horrible right now.
"I'm not a doctor," the older woman informs her, but Beth already knew that before she spoke. "I've given you as much medication as I possibly can do, with what we had available, anyway. I think it should be helping with the pain."
Beth thinks that it probably is helping quite a lot because she can't really feel anything - her body is generally just numb, and it is pure and utter bliss - and she nods her head once again. When Beth opens her mouth in a weak attempt to speak, Carol silences her by shuffling herself around so that she can reach for the glass of water that had been placed on the wooden bedside table, and the older woman passes it over to her carefully.
The blonde has not considered herself to be a child for quite some time now, and she can easily reach up and hold the glass by herself; and whilst there is a part of her that actually wants to point that out, Beth is far too exhausted - and, now that she thinks about it, far too thirsty - to resist Carol's kindness. The glass meets her sore lips and Beth winces ever so slightly as she opens up her mouth, tipping her head back slightly whilst Carol mimics the action with the glass. The water is practically freezing cold and it may as well be burning has as the liquid runs down her throat, but it is so relieving to just have a cold drink of water that Beth doesn't even bother to put up a fight.
Once she has taken four huge gulps of the fresh water, Carol moves to pull the glass away, and Beth finally manages to find her voice once again. "Thank you," she murmurs to Carol, her eyes soft as she raises one of her bruised hands so that she can wipe at her damp mouth. Upon doing so, Beth finally realises that both of her hands have been bandaged - neatly, to be fair - and she can't help herself but to stare at the white cloth that is wrapped around them as though it is offending her before she turns her attention to Carol again.
The question that she asks is never voiced, but Carol seems to be able to read her with ease, and the older woman shrugs her shoulders almost sheepishly whilst she rubs the back of her neck. "It was all that I could find," Carol says in explanation, and Beth nods her head in understanding and drops the subject there.
Nothing more is said between the two women for at least a good minute or two, and Beth takes the opportunity to allow her wide blue eyes to roam over the expanse of the unfamiliar surroundings. Once it appears as though she has finished taking in everything that there is to see about this simple and sparsely decorated bedroom (it's not much - just a king sized bed, two bedside tables on either side of it, a bay window and a wardrobe) Carol clears her throat and speak again.
"I know that we don't know what happened to you or who did this to you just yet, but I want you to know that you can rest assured that those men aren't going to let this slide."
At the woman's words, Beth's light blue eyes fly open wider than they usually do, and she snaps her neck quickly around so that she is facing Carol as opposed to the door. "Men?" Beth asks, the word rolling from her tongue with ease despite the fact that she already knows in her heart who it is that Carol is referring to.
And as that realisation dawns upon her, for the first time since she woke up, Beth wonders to herself what on earth Carol has to do with The Brother's Arms.
Nodding her head up and down, Carol offers Beth another little smile as she speaks. "The club," the older woman explains, and Beth releases a shaky breath at the confirmation of that. "Speaking of which - I should probably go an let them know that you're awake. You've been asleep for a good few hours, now, and everyone has been so worried about you."
The grey haired woman quickly rushes to stand up, although before she leaves Carol bends her upper body down so that she can straighten up the pillows and cushions that are propping Beth's back up so that she is sitting up comfortably in the bed. When she seems to be satisfied with her work, Carol straightens herself up once again and purses her lips.
"I'll be right back," Carol promises to her, and despite the fact that a part of her honestly wants to protest - because really, after the last few days that she has had, all that Beth wants to do is go back to sleep and not talk about anything that happened to her in that warehouse - Beth gives in and doesn't say anything as she watches the slender woman exit the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her.
Barely a minute can pass by before Daryl Dixon is storming into the room, and Beth is suddenly feeling anything but calm all over again just at the sight of him.
The biker stands in the doorway of the room looking as handsome as he always does; despite the fact that his long hair a tangled mess - clearly unwashed - and his stubble is longer than she has ever seen it be, too. It's evident that he hasn't necessarily been taking the best care of himself, but Beth knows that she doesn't entirely look her best, either. It's not as though she really minds him looking like this, anyway, especially since he manages to pull it off a lot better than she ever could.
Daryl's deep blue eyes settle on hers almost immediately, and his broad shoulders are tense as he stares straight at her, taking all of her in. Visibly swallowing, Beth tries her hardest not to lose her nerve as she returns his stare with an equal intensity; waiting for him to make some sort of decision and move to either leave the bedroom or to step further inside it.
For a moment, the outline of a woman - Carol, no doubt - appears to hover behind him, but Daryl has braced both of his arms on either side of the door frame and it means that Beth can't quite make out who it definitely is. The figure is gone almost as quickly as she came, and Beth assumes that if it is Carol, then the older woman must have decided that she will leave the two of them alone for the time being.
Eventually, Daryl's tense shoulders relax and his arms fall from the doorway. The man practically tiptoes as he walks into the room, and his dark eyes are still locked straight on hers as he does so. It isn't as though this sort of behaviour is strange for him, Beth concludes; considering the fact that he always seems to be so careful and cautious whenever he is around her, it's not all that unfamiliar to see him act as though he is trying his hardest not to scare off a young doe in the middle of the woods.
Although he enters the room, Daryl doesn't make any attempt to sit down in the space that Carol had occupied on the wooden chair that is positioned next to the bed that Beth is lay in the centre of. Instead, he hovers at the bottom of the bed, his body turning slightly as he looks back at the door - as though he is checking to see if anyone had followed him into the room - before he turns back around to face her. Now that he is closer Beth can feel that he has a nervous, uncertain energy around him.
A deep, heavy sigh escapes his lips and Daryl blinks his dark eyes several times as he worries the skin around his thumbnail, something that Beth assumes is a nervous habit. He drops his arm so that it dangles by his side and he glances up to meet with her blue eyes in a way that causes her pounding heart to beat even faster in her chest, and Beth battles with herself to be silent - as in literally bites down on the tip of her tongue so that she doesn't say a word, so that she doesn't beat him to it because it's obvious how hard this is for him to even be here right now - and she waits until he speaks for the first time since he entered the room.
"'M gonna kill him," Daryl mumbles to her, voice low and husky, but Beth still hears every word that he says as though he is shouting it all out from the top of his lungs. She doesn't really know why it is that she seems to have a knack for hearing everything that this quiet man has to say, but she just does, and the blonde isn't going to start complaining about it.
Carol had briefly mentioned the fact that the club didn't have any knowledge of who it was that was responsible for doing this to her, and despite the fact that the older woman made her feel comfortable and safe, Beth had definitely not been prepared to start sharing the details of what had happened to her during her time in the abandoned warehouse. The whole ordeal had been brutal and had damaged her both physically and emotionally, and the last thing that Beth could possibly care about in that moment was telling anyone about how a man with an eye patch and a vendetta against a biker gang had encouraged a group of other unfamiliar men to beat her until she bled from as many places as possible.
But now that he was here, Beth thought to herself that maybe - just maybe - she would tell Daryl Dixon. If he ever asked.
Still, despite the fact that nobody seemed as though they were supposed to really have any idea of who it was that had harmed her - and now she can recall a gruff question in a demanding tone, "who the fuck did this to you?" - it seemed that Daryl had a pretty good idea about it. And that was partially a relief, because goodness, even she didn't know who it was that had orchestrated all of this since she had never seen the man before in her entire life, and knowing that Daryl knew meant that she felt safer than she ever did before, even with Carol here.
He continued to stand at the foot of the bed, and Beth noticed that his clenched fists were shaking quite violently as he continued to look at her. Beth could imagine how she looked to him - so small and broken and fragile in this huge bed - and she swallowed once again as the anger practically radiated from him. After a few deep breaths, Daryl spoke again; his tone filled with a mixture of passion and hatred, a promise to her that he meant with every ounce of his being.
"I swear, girl," he breathed, voice shaking, his chest rising and falling quickly. "I'm gonna kill him."
And god, Beth believed him.
O-K, so that was a little bit dramatic.
What do you think so far?! I can't believe this story has ten chapters already. And there was me thinking it was going to be another one-shot...
As always, thank you so much for reading, and Merry Christmas once again!