The smell of burnt flesh and blood along with gunpowder were filling the air. All she could hear were the groans and moans from afar. But in a different direction, she could hear the screaming.
And then there was nothing.
Everything was and felt empty while she was paralyzed because of the pain. She would often flinch, while she tried to move. Wake up, she thought. I need to wake up. They are dying.
But when she finally managed to grab a knife, even though she couldn't open her eyes, a loud explosion caused her to roll over. The sudden heat blew her over, but a hand pushed her to the ground and covered her. She couldn't breathe; the smoke was burning its way through her lungs, filling her mouth with ash and despair.
Her eyes snapped open and she screamed out in agony, while feeling the tears running down her cheek. A hand pushed back and she continued to sob. The daylight was blinding her for atleast five minutes, until she was able to adjust her view and take in her surroundings; she was lying in a tent and she then saw the person sitting next to her. She scoffed and pressed her eyes together. "Sorry, can' help it tha' 'm tha first person ya got ta see 'fter all tha' shit." he scoffed sarcastically. Harley sighed and opened her eyes to look at Daryl. "Where are we? What happened? I—" "—Pipe tha fuck down, pocahontas. You's jus' got yer conscious back, don'tcha go ruinin' tha' on me now. Dragged yer ass all tha way ta here. 'Sides, 'm not done yet. Keep still 'n bite on this." Daryl grunted, throwing her a red rag. Harley looked down and saw Daryl holding a bloodied knife in his hands. A bottle of vodka was lying next to him along with a white cloth. Harley felt like crying, but she didn't want to look weak, so she stuffed the rag in her mouth and closed her eyes firmly. Daryl tapped her shoulder and Harley opened her eyes. He handed her the bottle of vodka, and she accepted it without saying anything, nearly gulping half of the liquid down.
Right after she felt the terrible disastrous pain, she was dragged into the darkness once again.
Heat was rushing through her veins and her body temperature seemed to alternate between either heating out of shivering from cold. Harley fought. She always fought against the light and darkness, but it seemed to be an pointless battle, and in the end it wouldn't get her anywhere.
One day she was done fighting and she wanted to give up to the everlasting unconsciousness. No matter how much she forced herself to keep going, she couldn't. But just when she was about to leave herself behind, her eyes finally opened.
"Ya ain' goin' ta die, stupid bitch. Did everythin' ta save yer ass 'n I ain' goin' ta stab ya once yer turned. Dont'cha dare makin' me do tha'."
Harley wanted to let him know she was right there, listening to him. But for some reason she enjoyed hearing his pleading, after all the shit he had said to her when they met.
"Ya selfish little—" "—Easy tiger, calm down now, would you?"
The girl chuckled when she saw his cheeks flutter, but stopped when he noticed his watery eyes. Why the fuck would he cry over her? Sure, Harley would consider them friends, but nothing more and nothing less. It wasn't like they had some deep kind of friendship going on. Hell, probably Merle wouldn't even cry for her sorry ass. "Are you okay?" she asked, hesitating. Daryl scoffed. "Why tha fuck wouldn' I be? I ain't tha one who got 'erself shot." he snapped. Harley raised her eyebrows. "I got shot?" she asked sheepish. Ofcourse, she answered to herself with a growl. That was probably the most dumbest question she had ever asked. That would explain the unbearable pain in her side and all the blood. Truth was, everything that had happened was vanished from her memory. Daryl rolled his eyes. "Yeah Sherlock Holmes, hadn' noticed yet?" he mumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Harley tried to sit up, but her side started to twitch and her she flinched from the pain. "Jesus fucking Christ." she growled while closing her eyes. Daryl smirked. "Jus' told ya yer got yer ass shot 'n 'ere ya are, already tryin' ta hold a fiesta. Ya got somethin' stuck in yer ear, pocahontas? Dont'cha speak English?"
Harley looked at him, trying to find out whether he was just mocking with her or actually angry. But his face marked no clear emotion, so she ignored him. "Can you help me up? My back hurts from lying down." she wailed. Daryl nodded and supported her back with his left arm. He gently lifted the tiny woman up in his arms and carried her outside of the tent. Once he had reached a tree that was close to their tent, he softly put her down. Daryl lowered himself onto his knees and sat down across from her, leaving enough distance between them as he did so. "What happened?" Harley blurted out. Daryl frowned. "Ya don' remember anythin'?" Harley shook her head in response.
"Well, ya pretty much threw dem knives at tha sumbitch. Guess ya only managed ta hit 'is shoulder tha first time, tho ya hit 'is right eye tha second time. Ya got shot 'n I killed dem assholes. Time I reached tha sumbitch, he already died." Daryl explained while looking down at the knife in his hands. He looked at her occasionally, but Harley had closed her eyes while she forced herself to remember anything that had happened.
"Fo' som' reason, tha whole prison exploded—" "No."
Daryl looked up at her in surprise and the girl had tears in her eyes.
"Please don't. Don't say this."
"—It exploded. Tha whole fuckin' thing jus' lighted up."
Harley sighed and started to tremble. "Did you see anyone?" she asked, while her voice was breaking. Daryl looked at her with a blank expression and shook his head slowly. She covered her face with her hands. I failed, she thought. I fucking failed. If I only would've hit him the first time. If I only would've listened to Daryl and had thrown the goddamn knife right away.
"I should have listened to you." she whispered. Daryl pressed his lips together and scowled. "Shot ya damn mouth, pocahontas. Ain't yer fault 'n ya know it. Stop makin' up dem bullshit stories, girl. Ya did wha' ya had ta do." he growled. Harley shook her head. "No! I failed. I—" "Why tha hell d'ya care anyway? Ya only 've known us fo' less than 4 weeks."
Harley looked up, finding out he actually meant the question. It wasn't a rude question really. Something in his voice made it sound like he had sympathy for her, somewhere.
"My family," she said. "My previous group killed my family in front of me. The leader was a manipulative asshole just like that Governor guy. They made me watch. Kept me in a chokehold at first, until they made sure all of them were dead. First my parents, while my sister was screaming. They made us watch them, until they turned. We didn't know people could turn without being bitten. And then my sister." Harley paused and inhaled. Daryl was listening to every single word she said.
"I survived. But they are dead."
Daryl didn't know what to say; he just looked at the ground for a few minutes, while a silence continued. Neither of them attempted to say anything, yet it was somehow comforting for Harley; she wasn't exactly the comfort kind of type, either, so she understood Daryl's reaction. "Didn' ya 'ave any friends?" he asked suddenly, referring to her being alone all this time. Harley sighed. "Yes." she replied. Daryl raised his eyebrows. "Why didn' ya go ta anyone?"
Harley shrugged. "I don't need anyone."
It was obviously a lie. But she didn't want to be weak. "I don't belong in a group. Socializing scares the shit out of me, in case you hadn't noticed yet." Harley confessed. The bittersweet memory of Merle Dixon saving her was still fresh in her mind. Daryl smirked. "Yeah, I think I noticed tha'."
There was another silence.
"What do we do now?" she asked softly. Daryl's blue eyes found her brown ones and he tried to look calm, while he was actually panicking about the idea that everyone had been locked up in that prison. "We go fin' 'em. We can't 'ead back, 'cuz walkers 'r all over tha goddamn place. Best 'f we jus' go back t' tha highway."
Harley nodded, but looked confused after the idea of his plan. "Highway?" she repeated. Daryl rolled his eyes and grinned. "Leave tha' ta me, pocahontas. Gonn' drag yer ass 'to tha tent so ya can get some rest. Yer drivin' me nuts already." he murmered sarcastically when he moved forward so he could scoop her up in his arms. Harley rolled her eyes. "Careful Dixon," she said teasingly, "—I got shot in my side, doesn't mean I can't use my hands—I can still throw a knife at that arrogant looking face of yours."