"Put him on the couch for now, but I don't know what good it'll do him if we just let him suffer like this for long." Herschel's calming voice instructed, as we manoeuvred through the kitchen and hallway to try and save Daryl. When we'd set him down on the once cream couch, now scorched scarlett with the rapidly flowing blood of my best friend, Maggie ran into the sitting room with her arms laden with towels which she dumped on the floor next to the couch and set about pressing them firmly against his wounds. Herschel brushed her aside and began trying to clean them, but he lacked a certain urgency that I'd known him to have before in situations like this.
"Can't you go any faster, he's clearly fighting his hardest here." I snapped edgily, arguing an already lost battle. Herschel didn't even look at me when he gave me a sombre reply.
"He may be fighting, but it's not enough. Those walkers took a huge chunk out of him, and even if he doesn't die from the immense blood loss..." He trailed off, and we all knew exactly what would happen. I just didn't want to believe it. I threw myself on the floor in front of the couch and waved my hand in front of the bleeding, sweating and pale Daryl.
"Come on Daryl it's easy and you know it, just fight it, yeah?" I babbled fiercely, forcing myself to believe he was going to survive. Through his delirious stupor he smirked slightly; even he knew I was being stupid. I clutched a nearby towel and pressed it against his side. He winced slightly and then stopped, breathing heavily and slightly rasping for air.
"Oh stop being such a girl. You've just got to stop bleeding." I said harshly in desperation. I heard Maggie scoff weakly behind me. I snapped my head round and glared at her.
"You got something to say? D'you wanna say it louder?!" I snarled at her, brimming with more hatred for her than ever before. She looked at the ground and shook her head, but said nothing. I turned back to Daryl, who was now whiter than milk and his breathing had become shallow. I panicked and tears started cascading down my face, and I felt my insides tighten. I clutched his arm with both hands as dread and misery leaked from my very core.
"Just fight..." I whispered, choking up. Rick knelt beside me and put a hand consolingly on my shoulder.
"Harper..." He began, but I cut him off.
"He's not dead yet. I don't wanna hear it." I snapped at him, forcing him into silence. I was just about to beg Herschel to do something once more, but I was stopped by Daryl suddenly jerking around violently on the couch, every sharp move he made caused more blood to come pouring out of the dark, menacing wounds. I turned fearfully to Herschel.
"What the fuck's happening?!" I panicked again, as he thrashed around in front of me, losing blood and energy. Herschel shook his head pityingly at me.
"He's having a seizure. He's lost more blood than anyone should, I'm amazed he's managed to hold on for so long...but it won't be long now." He explained quietly. The whole room was washed in an uncomfortable silence that I'll never forget. I turned back to Daryl, who by now had stopped thrashing as he'd given up altogether and was completely still. I stared at him through watery and sore eyes, mouth slightly open in disbelief.
"He's not..." I started, voice catching painfully in my throat. Lori came and knelt down beside me, clasping my hand firmly in her own to try and comfort me.
"I'm sorry Harper, he's gone." She finally said quietly. Hearing it out loud hurt about a million times more than I thought it would and her words stabbed at my heart like poison, drumming the horrible truth into my head. I looked once more at my lifeless friend who lay on the couch, almost asleep, and then jumped up from the floor and glared at Herschel.
"You should have tried harder." I spat coldly. He looked at me again with eyes of pity, which sent me into fits of heated rage.
"WHY DID YOU ALL GIVE UP ON HIM?!" I screamed at all of them, face burning hot from my anger and streaked in boiling water from fresh tears. I turned on Rick.
"YOU WOULDN'T HAVE GIVEN UP ON LORI, WHY HIM?!" I screeched at him, scowling menacingly at him. He stood up and looked at me calmly.
"Course I wouldn't give up on Lori...but she's my wife. Daryl's just your friend." He tried to console me, but that upset me even further.
"Just a friend?" I repeated, deflating at his words. "Do you have any idea how hard friends are to find now? Or are you just lucky enough to make best friends everywhere you go?" I spat at him, hoping to provoke some sort of reaction. He didn't have anything to say to me, so he just turned away from me and focused on someone else. Only a few of us remained in the room now: myself, Lori, Herschel, T-Dog and Rick all stood quietly now, emotions wearing thin as we waited for the inevitable.
I crouched down again next to the ruined couch and stared into Daryl's sunken, blood streaked face. By that point I'd run entirely out of tears and I just watched, drained of feelings and energy as I tried to wrap my head around the events of the night. I picked up one of the clean towels and started wiping away some of the toxic blood from his face and shoulder, wishing hopelessly (and slightly guiltily) that it had been someone else lying in front of me. T-dog leant over and held my wrist aloft, stopping my hand in mid-wipe.
"Don't get too close." He warned me, eyes warily looking at Daryl as he waited for the unavoidable change. I gave a scornful and feeble laugh.
"Should've told me that a year ago." I muttered, pulling my wrist away from the kind, black man who'd done nothing but try and help me.
Two hours dragged themselves laboriously by and everybody except me had either wandered off or gone to bed. I didn't say I wanted to be on my own, but they must have gathered that from my silent and distant nature, and that's exactly what they did. I was sat on the wrecked carpet, leaning defeatedly against the couch and staring at the ornate fireplace opposite me.
"This wasn't supposed to happen." I mumbled, not entirely certain whether I was talking to myself or Daryl's dead body. "I was meant to find you and bring you back to the house...alive." I finished with a cold hearted sigh. I realised that I still had his shirt tied tightly round my waist, so I reached carefully around and undid it, before peeling back my own shirt and observing the damage. It had started to scab over, but it still stung like a bitch whenever I let my mind wander to it. Perhaps now would be the opportune time to remove the bullet shards that were deep within my side, but they caused me little pain in the year preceding that, so I dropped my shirt back and dismissed the thought from my mind.
I felt a subtle movement in the couch, and a 100kg weight dropped in my stomach. It had been so minuscule that I wasn't even sure I felt it, whether my tired and distraught mind was playing filthy tricks on me or not...but it wasn't. Slowly, reluctantly, I turned my head to face the man on the ruined couch. Daryl's eyes had snapped open and instead of the dark green ones that I was so used to, I was glared at by a pair of pale, white and unseeing eyes. I knelt by his head and clenched his throat in one of my hands to stop him biting me. My eyes began to well up as my heart felt heavy, and ice cold chills flew up my spine.
"Daryl." I choked at the struggling walker in my grasp. "Daryl I need you to listen to me." I begged as it snarled at me and struggled weakly. "The others don't know you've come back, and I don't want them to know...they'll kill you when they find out." I whispered through dry sobs. "Thanks though. Thanks for saving me all those times...and thanks for not murdering me in my sleep." I smiled sadly, the heartache not entirely washing away my sense of humour. "Thanks for trying to look out for me...guess I didn't do as well as you would've done, huh?" I asked the growling corpse, struggling for a smile now as I knew he wouldn't have let me get dragged under by rotting, disease bearing walkers. Slowly, I pulled the silver revolver from under my shirt and pressed it shakily against his chin so that it pointed up into his skull.
"This is gonna hurt...me...a hell of a lot more than you." I told him, begging the guy upstairs for my guilt and pain to be eased. "I'm gonna miss you." I sobbed finally, my voice cracked and I began crying fresh and exhausting tears. The snarling became more vicious and he started struggling against the grip I had on his throat, hands desperately trying to rip my skull open. I'd prolonged it as far as I could, but I knew if I left it much longer I'd be joining Daryl, Shane, Beth and countless others before them someplace else. With a final sob, I did it.
With that desperate, final, heart shattering sob, I pulled the trigger and wept for a friend lost.