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Chapter Fourteen

Her back lifted from the bed as she writhed in pain, the searing, burning fire that licked at her leg was only growing worse as time went on. The drugs lasted an hour at best, after that there was at least three hours of excruciating pain. People had stopped coming in and out, trying to make her feel better; instead it was only Lori who stayed by her side. She held a cool cloth to Finn's forehead in an attempt to get her to calm down.

"Just take it off, get him to take the leg off, I don't care!" Finn screamed at the top of her lungs, her words slurred slightly from the mixture of drugs and pain.

"You don't mean that, you can get through this, Finn," Lori continued, only angering Finn more.
"I do mean it! I'll do it myself if I have to! Anything is better than this!" Her voice was barely even her own by the time it got to the evening, it was a mere deep, throaty groan, her dry lips unable to form words.

"No! As long as you've got your leg, you can try and walk, it gives you a better chance of getting away if…" Lori paused "You need to have the leg, Finn. Hershel said that the pain is just the rest of the muscle trying to heal, to get rid of whatever dying tissue is left. You need to let your body heal."

"Leave me alone, if you aren't going to try and help me I want you to leave!" Finn yelled.
"You can't be alone like this," She began but Finn cut her off.

"Get out!" Lori obeyed somewhat hesitantly, but Finn didn't get the comfort of being alone for long.

Daryl walked in, a glass of water in his hand and a plate of food in the other, he placed them down on the side.

"You gotta eat, Finn," He mumbled.
"I can hardly breathe, never mind eat," Finn groaned.

"Come on," Daryl put an arm around her waist and pulled her into a seated position in the bed, causing her to expel a loud scream, she did her best to breathe through it but she wanted nothing more than to pull her own hair out just in the hope of a distraction.

"Drink this," Daryl pushed the glass of water to Finn's lips and she shakily gulped a couple of mouthfuls down before she coughed and spluttered, doubling over in pain as her leg continued to argue against her.

"Why are you doing this?" Finn asked through gritted teeth "Why are you bothering?"
"What the hell you talkin' bout now?" Daryl hissed in question.

"I'm no use to you now, they don't even know that I'll be able to walk, do you think I'll be able to act as your little plaything whilst I'm dragging a useless leg around? What the hell do you want with me, Daryl?" Finn screamed, her fists clenching around the sheets, sweat pouring from her as she tried to shut out the pain.

Daryl stared at her blankly, the muscle in his jaw tensing, "Quit actin' like some cold hearted bitch and eat the goddamn food, drink the goddamn water and shut the hell up. This ain't you, Finn, you don't mean a fuckin' word of that venom spillin' out your mouth," He paused "You ain't copin', fine. All I'm tryna do is make sure you don't starve." It was his turn for his breathing to grow heavy, however his control wasn't that good. As he threw the plate down against the bedside table, Finn flinched as it smashed into a thousand pieces.

"You wouldn't be in this forsaken mess if it weren't for me! You forgot I was the one that shot your ass? If I'd taken two seconds outta my useless piece of shit day to hold my shot you'd be fine!" Finn watched as Daryl paced the room, his hands held tightly into fists, so much so that the skin was stretched into a pale white across the knuckles.
"I wouldn't have been shot but I'd have probably been dead, up in those woods, alone," Finn stated, causing Daryl's eyes to meet with hers in a cold stare.
"Better than bein' a cripple," He spat and an awful, guilt ridden silence filled the room.

After about half an hour of silence and watching Daryl walk up and down the room, rubbing his hands over his unshaven, dirtied face, he finally spoke.
"Drink the water, Finn," His voice was gentle yet filled with authority.

"You didn't do this," Finn stated, tears now filling her eyes because of both the emotional and physical trauma.

"Didn't see no one else shootin' ya," He quipped in reply.

Finn scoffed, her hands gripping the tender flesh around her bandages, "So you're an asshole, I knew that already."

Daryl's eyes lifted and they stared at each other awkwardly before a pained smile lifted the corner of his lips for just a millisecond.

"I'm not dead," Finn stated "Stop pacing back and forth, looking like you killed me already."

Daryl sat back down and ran his hands over his face.
"You should sleep."
Finn laughed apathetically, "I don't want to aggravate the guilt you're feeling right now or anything but this pain isn't going to go away. I don't think I'll be getting any sleep for a while."

That was when he moved closer. His hand sort of falling on the bed beside her as he ignored the closeness; Finn didn't try to stop herself when the pain in her leg travelled through her nerves and her hand gripped onto his, taking comfort in the warmth and familiarity.