* Warning: Sexual assault and aftermath in this chapter.

Drained

"I'm it," Jenner said to us stoically, his voice echoing in the empty control room. "It's just me here."

"What about the person you were speaking with," Lori asked. "Vi?"

"Vi," Jenner announced as he stared at us. "Say 'hello' to our guests. Tell them…'welcome'."

"Hello guests," a feminine, automated voice echoed. "Welcome."

I was leaning my elbows on the railing that led towards the main part of the room, only paying attention with mild interest. I mostly just wanted to get all of this over with and get the hell out of there. Scowling impatiently, I realized it was finally time for me to play time traveler and just go with the flow.

"I'm all that's left," Jenner said quietly. "I'm sorry." He turned away from us.

I glanced at Rick. He was frozen to the spot, and only occasionally sparing a glance at his surroundings.

"This wasn't what you were expecting," Jenner said when he realized none of us were following him. "But to be fair, no one was expecting the end of the world to look quite like this, so…" He cleared his throat. "I believe I have everyone scheduled for a blood test. If you'll follow me…"

He led us into some sort of presentation room. At the front of the room was a whiteboard with some scientific mumbo-jumbo written on it that I couldn't follow. Daryl and I took the steps along the side of the room and sat up in the back row of seats, giving us an entire view of the room.

"I need to grab some medical supplies," Jenner said. "Make yourselves comfortable."

When Jenner left, all eyes fell on Rick. I snorted at everyone's desperation. We were here, the building was secure. What else where they expecting of Rick?

Rick rubbed his hand over his face before speaking. "Jenner was right," he said to all of us. "We were expectin' this place to be full of scientists and workers. We were expectin' to find answers immediately. That's not the case." Rick pointed at the door Jenner left out of. "But he's still here. And we're still alive."

"Jim's not," Jacqui muttered, making everyone go silent.

"Or Amy," Andrea whispered.

"Or Morales' people," I said.

"Morales and his family chose to go their own way after the attack," Rick explained to me, and then addressed everyone as a whole again. "And I can't take back what happened to Jim or Amy," he said gently. "But their deaths aren't gonna be in vain. We're here now…And we're gonna move forward. Hopefully…things'll be better now."

I resisted the urge to sarcastically slow clap, and by the scowl on Daryl's face I could tell he was also not buying it. Although, I had to give Rick credit; he always knew how to spin a good motivational speech.

Jenner returned with needles, bandages, and other such stuff. "I have to get everyone's names as we go, to keep track," Jenner explained as he set the stuff on a table and got two chairs. One for himself, and another for one of us. He nodded at Andrea. "What's your name?"

"Andrea," she said.

"You wanna go a first," he asked, smirking slightly. "I'd ask for volunteers, but let's face it, I've never known a single soul who actually volunteers first."

She slapped her hands on her knees and sighed in exasperation as she got up. She sat in front of Jenner and offered her arm. I flexed my jaw. Despite their arrogance, Amy and Andrea had kept each other balanced and grounded. With Amy now gone, I could tell, just by her fed-up body language, that Andrea was not doing well in the slightest.

"What's the point," she grumbled. "If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever."

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here," Jenner said. "Let me just at least be thorough." He wrote something down – more than likely her name – on a vacutainer. "All done."

Jacquie helped her as she swayed a little.

"You okay," Jenner asked.

"She hasn't eaten in days," Jacqui responded as she led her to a chair. "None of us have."

Jenner glanced at all of us with sympathy. "Well," he nodded. "After I collect all of your blood samples, we can change that."

Everyone, who had been rather disappointed by the turn of events, suddenly perked up at the prospect of food, murmuring encouragingly to each other. Daryl and I looked at each other and shrugged. Food did not sound half bad at all, considering neither of us had had any successful hunting in the last twenty-four hours.

Jenner continued the process of asking for peoples' names and taking blood. I curled a knee to my chest to rest my chin on it, feeling my eyes droop. I almost pitched forward I was so tired. I blinked rapidly. Letting my rear scoot to the edge of the chair, I reclined against the seatback as far as I could. I glanced at Daryl, who had pretty much done the same thing in his own seat. Every now and then his eyes would drift shut, and then he would blink them open again and stare at the ceiling. Even though yesterday had been a hard day in general, everyone in this room had gotten more sleep than we did.

I shifted closer to Daryl and slowly let my shoulder lean against his. Still staring at the ceiling, he breathed deeply and leaned in kind. My head fell back against the wall, eyes falling shut again. I sighed contentedly when his hand curled around mine, locking our fingers together.

I started when I felt a nudge from Daryl. "What," I muttered as I forced my eyes open.

Daryl nodded in Jenner's direction.

"Alright," Jenner said to Daryl and I. "You two are the last ones."

Fuck.

With an apprehensive growl, I lifted my head from Daryl's shoulder – When had I done that? – and we both stood up and made our way down the steps.

Daryl slumped down onto the chair and let Jenner do his thing. Daryl's face remained neutral, if not just slightly annoyed. The only other expression was an ever-so-slight wince from when the needle was inserted. Jenner was organizing his equipment with one hand while he had the other hand on Daryl's arm to keep the needle in place. It took all my willpower not to pace. It took all my willpower to not rush from the room altogether.

He bandaged Daryl's arm. Daryl stood up and went to sit at the front row. I glared at the now empty seat. "What's your name," Jenner asked as he took out the supplies for my blood work.

"Layla," I said through clenched teeth.

"Take a seat, Layla," he said. "You're the last one."

"Yipee," I grumbled and sat. "Just walk me through what you're doing. Step. By. Step."

"Can do," he said with an idle nod. "Just getting out the alcohol."

I could feel myself quickly disassociating, my mind already trying to distract me for what Jenner was going to have to do. I crashed back into reality when he touched my elbow and applied rubbing alcohol onto my skin. I jumped so hard my knee slammed off the leg of the table.

"Jesus Christ," I screeched involuntarily, making Jenner let go of my arm in shock. "I said walk me through it, damn it!"

"I just told you I was getting out the alcohol," Jenner said, eyebrows knitting together.

"Looks like we finally found somethin' you're afraid of, Layla," Shane snickered.

I flipped him off and mouthed, 'Fuck you.'

Shane's snickering turned into clearing his throat and sobering. It wasn't in reaction to my insult, but because Daryl was sitting only a couple chairs away and was glaring him down.

"Now," Jenner continued. "I gotta find a vein."

That's when he started fully grasping my elbow and using his other hand to tap the inside of my arm. My eyes slammed shut and I had to force my body to not recoil from his touch. I only managed to lean as far away as I could.

"Your veins are not easy," Jenner said, tone apologetic as he continued the tapping. "You're really not a fan of needles, are you,"

I swallowed harshly, eyes still closed and not really caring if my entire body was shaking at that point. All I was focused on was keeping myself glued to the seat to get it over with. I was going against every instinct that my body was currently screaming at me.

"It's not," I croaked. "the needle I'm worried about."

I absolutely hated how much he was touching me for something so simple and clinical, but what I hated more was how I must've looked to the rest of the group. I wasn't facing any of them, but I certainly felt all their eyes on me.

With determination that I knew was doomed to fail, I forced my eyes open to try and plaster on a brave face. I blinked, not expecting to be staring directly into blue eyes. Daryl had pulled up a chair directly in front of me, and was now only inches away from my face. He was staring closely into my eyes. At first, his expression was very neutral, and then his eyebrows scrunched. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it.

I tilted my head. 'What?'

He only hummed thoughtfully, flexing his jaw and not taking his eyes off of mine.

"What," I asked, out loud this time.

"Alright, Layla," Jenner suddenly announced, making me tear my eyes away from Daryl. "You can relax. You're done." He looked around at everyone with a smile and stood up. "All of you are. I think someone mentioned food?" Everyone started talking enthusiastically, but I didn't hear a word anyone said, too focused on something else.

I stared at the bandage on my arm where Jenner had just taken my blood without me noticing. Eyes wide, I snapped my gaze back to Daryl to see him smirking widely.

"You sneaky son of a bitch," I murmured, making him snicker. "No, seriously," I said with a growing smile as we stood up. "How the hell did you do that?"

He simply shrugged, still smiling. "Come on," he said, letting me walk ahead of him. "Don't know about you, but I'm starvin'."

"God, me too," I sighed. "But seriously," I said, turning around and stopping us both. I crossed my arms, knowing full well my hands were still shaking. I looked down at the floor. "Thank you. I…hate being stuck in my own head like that."

So gently that I almost didn't feel it, he untangled one of my arms to hold and look at one of my trembling hands.

Seeing his frown, I clutched his hand for a second before crossing my arms again. "It'll stop eventually…The shaking, I mean." I shrugged. "Not much I can do for it."

His frown managed to deepen, almost into a scowl, but he nodded.

We made our way to a cafeteria. When T-Dog and Carol saw the kitchen area, they both enthusiastically offered to help Jenner to, as T-Dog put it, 'Make a feast fit for a survivor…survivors'. Everyone else got involved, looking for plates, cutlery, cooking tools, anything to speed up the process so we could all eat.

The only ones not part of it were Carl, Sophia, Ed, and Andrea.

I hummed and asked Jenner if he had any butcher paper and stuff to write with. He handed me a large roll of the paper and pointed to a drawer that had some pens and highlighters. I took all of it over to the kids and laid it in front of them. As soon as they saw what I had, they smiled, unrolled the paper, and started a rather competitive game of tic-tac-toe.

I glanced at Ed and Andrea as I started to walk away.

Ed, as per usual, did nothing. He stared off into space, fidgeting with an empty glass, as if expecting a bartender to dutifully fill it for him. Andrea, however, surprised me. She was prissy, but never shied away from helping. But there she sat, staring down at her laced fingers as if in prayer. Her eyes were tired, almost dead.

I cleared my throat, trying to be sympathetic. "Do you, uh, want anything to…um…"

Her chuckle was devoid of emotion. "Layla," she said slowly, not looking at me. "We both know you suck at being around people. So, do what you're good at…and go away."

I pursed my lips and nodded, trying not to be offended because…well, she really wasn't wrong.

Ed perked his head up as I passed by him. "'Ey," he mumbled expressionlessly, raising his glass. "While you're offerin'-"

I rolled my eyes and kept on walking. I went behind the counter, and watched everyone with amusement. They all moved around with newfound energy that was almost contagious. T-Dog especially, because he had a saucepan in his hands and was pretending to be a fancy chef, giving the meat in the pan a flourishing flip. Those of us that were nearby laughed when he nearly dropped everything on the floor.

"Don't waste it, T," Jacqui smirked. "We're hungry. Remember?"

"What," T-Dog said, looking wounded. "We can't do dinner and a show?"

I chuckled and went over to the sink that was quickly filling with dirty cooking tools. "You got running water, Jenner," I asked him.

He nodded, standing off to the side to watch everyone's antics. "Don't worry about the dishes, though," he said. "There's a dishwasher right beside you."

I shook my head as I took a sponge and some dish soap and got to work. "It's no big deal." Truthfully, I enjoyed doing dishes. It was a repetitive task that was easy for me to get lost in. The more dishes there were, the less of an obligation to focus on other things.

"What do you got to drink around here, doc," Daryl said as he poked around in the cupboards.

Jenner cleared his throat. Daryl turned around and caught the key that was thrown at him. Jenner pointed down a hallway. "There's an office over that way that has a stash of wine locked away," he said with a slight smirk. "For special occasions."

"Oh," Carol closed her eyes as she stirred a pot of soup. "That sounds heavenly, Jenner."

"Y'all heard the man," T-Dog hollered enthusiastically. "It's a party now!"

When the food was finally cooked, everything was placed on the table. Daryl arrived back, arms full of wine bottles. Everyone cheered as Daryl, Carol, and Dale started pouring the liquid into everyone's glasses. I sat on a countertop a foot away from the dining table and shook my head at everyone, finding it hilarious that they were starving, but the allure of alcohol was stronger.

Daryl sat beside me, poured a glass, and tried handing it to me.

"Keep passing it," I chuckled.

"You sure," he asked me with a grin. He took a swig straight from the bottle. "Ain't that bad."

I shook my head. "I can't stand alcohol. Give it to somebody who'll actually appreciate it."

He raised a brow at me as he downed the glass. "What's your favorite AC/DC song again?"

I laughed.

"Come on, Layla," Dale smiled. "Live a little. You know, in Italy," Dale said as he looked at Lori and Carl. "Children…have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France!" He handed Lori a glass. Taking it, Lori used her other hand to stop Dale from pouring one into her son's glass.

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France," Lori said. "He can have some then."

"What's it gonna hurt, come on," Rick smirked. When Lori hesitated, he chuckled, "Come on!"

Lori shook her head and then shrugged dramatically, making everyone cheer.

"There you are, young lad," Dale handed him the glass.

We all fell silent as Carl took a slow sip.

His face screwed up. "Ew!"

Laughter resonated.

I was laughing, too, for a while. However, the more people laughed, and talked, and literally bumped elbows or knees with each other as they passed things around, the more crowded I became. I zoned out, trying to drown out the loudness. No harm was being done, no drama was being kicked up, and it was a grand ol' time. I slowly downed the last of my food, not really tasting it at that point.

"I'm gonna go explore," I said to Daryl as I hopped down from the counter. "Hey, Jenner! Any restricted areas I should avoid?"

"Oh, come on, Layla," a couple people exclaimed.

"It's a party," Dale said to me, face red. "Mingle."

Shane barely glanced back at me, his voice rough from the alcohol. "You know, we still don't know nothin' about you…Tell us somethin'."

I glared briefly at him before returning my attention to our host. "Jenner?"

Jenner nodded. "It'll say if it's restricted. And any door that's locked needs to remain locked."

I gave him a mock-salute and left the cafeteria. Before I got very far, I heard that ever familiar voice. "Y'alright?"

I smirked and turned around. "I feel like you ask me that a lot."

Daryl shrugged and set the bottle on a shelf next to him.

"And, yeah," I said. "It's just…not my scene. Loud party. Ton of people in one room like that." I nodded down the hall. "I'm gonna do what I said. Explore."

He shifted on his feet, probably a little tipsy from the wine. "You want company?"

My smile was tight. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't say no. But I could use some alone time." The sound of a cork echoed as someone opened another bottle. I walked over to him, getting so close I could feel his breath gently ghosting across my face. I took the bottle off the shelf and handed it back to him. "Go enjoy yourself. And don't deny that you are!"

He snorted lightly. He placed his hand over mine, but didn't take the bottle yet. "You, uh," he gestured with his other hand to my weapons holstered in my belt. "Keep your knife close. Just in case."

I smiled warmly at him. "My weapons aren't going anywhere," I said. His fingers slipped through mine as he took the bottle, until we were no longer touching. "I'll see in you a while."

There wasn't much to see, honestly. A rec room, some more presentation rooms, some conference rooms, some classrooms for newbies and interns, plenty of tempting restricted areas, and one basement.

The basement was sort of interesting. Plenty of empty generators, and empty kegs with 'Flammable' stamped on them. I exhaled as I stared at the fuel gauge of the remaining generator. Jenner did not have much power left.

"Hopefully, Daryl's right," I said to myself. "And we all make it out alive. Although," I continued as I started walking back up the steps. "If it had to happen, dying in an explosion is a badass way to go."

I eventually found the control room again. The lights turned on as I entered. The eerie, lonely silence of the empty room was music to my ears. I stretched my arms above my head, and then made my way to the computers. I tapped on some keyboards, clicked some mice, but screens remained blank.

"Hey, Vi," I said. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you," the technological voice responded.

"Do I have permission to turn on a computer," I asked. "I haven't played Paint or Pinball in ages."

"I cannot grant you access to any computers unless you have a personal identification number."

"Okay," I nodded. "How do I get a personal identification number?"

"Your personal identification number is chosen when your identification card is made."

"Thanks," I said with a scowl. "Real helpful."

Before walking out, I leaned against one of the desks and gazed up at the red digital numbers that had been counting down since we arrived. I could take a wild guess as to what it was counting down to. I tilted my head. It was more than likely also connected to the lack of fuel in the generators. Maybe that's what would cause this place to blow. No fuel, no security, no reason to stay intact.

I sighed through my nose, shook my head and walked away, not wanting to think anymore about it.

I made my way back to the cafeteria to find it completely deserted. The table had been cleared and the kitchen was devoid of any evidence of cooking. That was because it was all in the sink. I went over and got to work on the dishes. After they'd been done, I kept the water running. I rinsed off my knife, bow, and arrows. It was many minutes later when they were all finally cleaned of dried blood and dirt. And after a couple passes with my knife through the sharpener, I left the kitchen.

Jenner appeared at the end of the hallway I entered.

"Hey, Jenner," I said. "Where is everyone?"

"Sleeping," he explained. "There are rooms just around the corner. Across from those rooms are bathrooms and showers stocked with clean clothes." He walked passed me. "Have a good night, Layla," was all he said before disappearing. I shrugged at his clipped attitude, not finding much offense by it considering he was going to waste this place soon. He was the only CDC worker left, so destroying the place would weigh on anyone's conscience.

I turned the corner where Jenner directed me to go.

"Oof," I huffed as I accidentally knocked into someone. "Sorry, Shane. Didn't hear you coming."

Shane simply stared at me, breathing heavily through his nose and sweat matting his forehead. I narrowed my eyes at the three long scratches near his jaw. Then, I snorted.

"So," I smirked jokingly. "Ed finally hand it back to you? Personally, I didn't see him as a scratcher. More of a puncher."

He stared at me for a long second, trying to process my words through his drunk-addled mind. With a growl, he surged forward, hand clasping around my throat as he shoved me against the wall.

"Jesus," I hissed, trying to breath. "How drunk are you? Scale of 'one' to 'fucked up'."

"You know," he slurred, chuckling uneasily. "You-you know, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of everyone's attitude, I'm tired of-of everyone's bullshit, I'm tired of your bullshit," he exclaimed quickly, stepping towards me further, closing any gap we had between us. "Ever since you came around, everyone's been lookin' to your for stuff, for protection, f-for food."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Last I checked," I said, straining to gulp down air around his hand. "It's my damned job."

He nodded. "Your damned job," he mumbled, a smirk and an intense frown mixing and twisting up his face. "It ain't your damned job to be fuckin' around with Dixon."

"Jesus Christ," I rolled my eyes. I had a grip on his arm, but I didn't make a move yet. Everyone was asleep in this very hall and I didn't want to cause a scene and wake everyone up. I had to wait and see where Shane was going with this, wait and see whether I had to hand his ass to him.

Shane kept on rambling. "'Cause it was your job to keep us safe. And then one of tho-those monsters snuck in our camp. And where were you? Huntin' with Dixon. And then, Christ, you had to go on that stupid fuckin' Merle rescue mission, and what happens? We get an entire fuckin' army of walkers rainin' down us." With every word he spoke, his hand tightened around my throat, until I wasn't sure whether I was even breathing at this point.

He got even closer, nose almost brushing my cheek as the alcohol on his breath made my eyes burn. "You weren't huntin'. You weren't on a rescue mission." He chuckled. Then, with a growl, he jerked my neck, making the back of my head knock into the wall. "Did you like it? Huh? All that alone time with Daryl fuckin' Dixon. I bet he gives it to you rough, like an animal. You don't want that alone time with me?"

I felt my body lock up and my eyes slam shut, suddenly very aware of where all this bullshit was going. "I am giving you," I growled slowly through gritted teeth. "three seconds…to let…me…go…"

He scoffed. He closed his eyes, and inhaled as he brushed his nose against my hairline.

With a snarl, I curled my knee up, slammed it against his ribs, and bent my elbow to jam it into his face. It did nothing. Not only was I up against a cop, I was up against a violent, drunk cop. He held me fast, keeping my knee bent against his ribs. My one hand was bent painfully behind my back, and the other raised high above my head. I suppressed a whimper as I struggled against him, the angle stretching my spine.

With a frustrated growl, he yanked until both my arms were above my head, raising me onto my toes. Keeping my wrists in a single grip, his other hand snaked under my shirt, brushing against my stomach, ribs, and then clasping around my back as he pressed our torsos together. His lips were on mine, trying to work them open.

I didn't know how I was thinking straight, didn't know how I wasn't spiraling, how I was even remotely lucid to come up with the plan that came to mind.

My eyes clenched shut. I opened my mouth wide, allowing his disgusting tongue inside. I bit down on his lower jaw. Hard. He cried out, and started scrambling. I did not let go until he was putting in every effort to get away.

When I did let him go, he nearly stumbled backwards onto the floor. I stood there, panting, staring at the mark forming over the lower half of his face. With rage I'd never seen from him before, he stared down at one my hands.

I was clenching the hilt of my knife, in the process of taking it out of my belt. Grinding my teeth together, I forced my hand to let go. I had every right to kill him, but there were too many variables, and I no longer wanted to be anywhere near him.

I pushed off from the wall, and didn't stop until I was inches from his face.

"You ever touch me again, in any way," I whispered. "I will rip your throat out with my bare teeth. That bite I just gave you, oh…That's nothing compared to what I can really do." I bared my teeth, gritting them together. "Get…out of here."

We stared at each other, both of us shaking. Him, out of anger and defeat. Me, out of barely concealed terror. Barely taking his eyes off mine, he staggered around me, found his room, and slammed the door behind him.

I gasped and put my hands on my knees before stumbling to one of the bathrooms. I went straight for the sink. Shoving my face under the faucet, I let freezing cold water run over my eyes, face, and into my mouth. I was spitting every few seconds, nearly choking on the lingering taste of alcohol and Shane. Normally, when my PTSD hit, I couldn't always feel myself shaking, but...

My entire body, from my scalp to my toenails, shook uncontrollably. I resigned myself to the freezing temperature of the water because my hands couldn't get a grasp on the knobs at all.

"Son of a bitch," I cried in sheer frustration as I slammed my hand down against one of the knobs with bruising force. I only succeeded in turning the water off completely.

The water stopped running over my face. The temperature of my skin was no longer freezing. The bathroom was now totally silent. The silence was jarring.

Quickly, I went to the shower and yanked at the knobs until the water hissed to life. Not bothering to remove my clothes, I jumped in. I stared down at my hands. They shook so terribly that my arms and shoulder blades began to ache. My vision blurred and my hands fell away. I kept my focus down, hardly seeing the dirt, grime, and old walker blood racing down the drain.

I let my head fall forward to meet the wall. I tried so hard, tried so desperately to suppress any and all thoughts that tried to come to mind. I just wanted everything to be one big fucking blank.

I failed.

Being dragged into a car. Shane's attack. Everything merged. A single sadistic nightmare.

Pinning me down.

Hands against my skin.

Stench of alcohol.

Arms raised above my head.

The doors of the CDC locking.

My knees gave out and I fell. I didn't care that my head nearly cracked on the shower floor. I didn't care that I was no longer breathing. I didn't care that my weapons were poking against me and getting saturated by the water. I didn't care that my clothes were practically suffocating me.

I curled up into a ball, and I did what I always did. I waited for the nightmare to be over so I could pick my ass off the ground and move on with my day.

I whimpered as tremors wracked my body. I curled myself into the tightest ball I could manage, trying to force it all to stop. Spots danced in and out of my vision as oxygen came and went. With a cry of sheer helplessness that I couldn't bear, I crossed arms and bit down on my own skin. Not enough to bleed or hurt, but enough to feel it, feel anything other than this shit.

I tried desperately to realign my thoughts, to get mind over matter. All I could see was the interior of the car, the feel of lips shoved against mine, skin on skin, trapped against the wall. I released a tearless sob as another round of tremors hit.

I was terrified. I couldn't control any of it, couldn't make it stop, couldn't bring myself back, couldn't-

"That you in there, Layla?" Daryl's voice drowned out everything, making it all halt so quickly that I almost got whiplash.

I gasped exhaustedly, my body sagging on the floor. "W-what," I huffed against my own skin that I was still biting, not sure if I was talking to myself or Daryl's voice.

"It's me," he said from the hallway. I could just barely make out his words over the sound of the shower. "I'ma head to bed. Our room's five doors down."

"Okay," I muttered lifelessly.

The spots in my vision cleared, and I could feel my body beginning to breath naturally, but I didn't chance uncurling myself. I took my teeth off my skin and allowed my temple to fall next to the drain. The water coming off me now ran clear. I could also feel clearer thoughts returning, able to think straighter. Actually, I was so drained that I couldn't focus on anything except for what was in front of me; falling water and the tiled floor.

With a pained groan, I finally relaxed my fetal position to remove all of my weapons and toss them carelessly out of the shower stall. When that was taken care of and I no longer felt the pain of being jabbed at by my own arrows, I was then made aware of my shirt collar clinging to my throat. I was still lying on the floor, but I managed to remove all of my clothes one by one. I threw them, letting them join my weapons.

I was so heavily spaced out that 'disassociation' couldn't even begin to cover it. I felt as though I didn't exist on this dimensional plane. Which was fine by me; I didn't want to feel anything except the water rushing over me.

Getting tired of looking at this angle of the shower, my eyes drifted until they landed on the bright colors of the soap dispensers within the stall. Groaning, I got my hands underneath me and pushed. I didn't get very far, just enough to sit up and prop my back against the wall. Numbly, I reached for the dispensers, until the sweet aroma bombarded me.

My nose crinkled, but I still spread it over my hands, then over my arms, legs, and everywhere else. I wasn't trying to wash anything away at that point as the water had already taken care of it. However, it was an excuse to prolong things, to stay in that shower and do nothing else. Feel nothing else.

I let my head sag as I watched the soap race away, and the warm water began to turn cold. With a bitter huff, I pushed myself to my feet to turn the knobs off, my legs trembling to hold me up.

I carefully exited the shower, and walked over to the drawers once I saw them. Picking a random shirt and pants, I slipped them on. I gathered up my belt and weapons, tossed the old, soaking wet clothes into a garbage bin, and slipped out into the hallway.

My eyes immediately gravitated to the spot where Shane had pinned me and I had to force my eyes shut just to ignore the rising panic. Turning away, I made my feet walk. I counted the doors as I went, until I got to the one Daryl said. Had he said that? Did even talk to me? Or did my head do a real good job of creating his voice in the moment?

I got my answer when I opened the door to see Daryl sprawled out on the bed. I closed the door quietly and set my stuff down on the floor next to the couch.

Keeping my eyes on Daryl, I bit my lip. Clearing my throat did nothing because my voice still came out sounding like a mess. "Hey," I rasped quietly.

The only movement from him was his chest rising and falling serenely, completely passed out. I didn't know I was reaching out to him until my knees touched the edge of the bed. I jerked and took a step back as if burned. I scolded myself harshly. Turning back to the couch, I shoved the blankets and pillows off and lied down, facing the seatback. I didn't close my eyes.

I knew why I wanted to wake up Daryl, knew why I needed him. But where was I to start? How was the conversation even going to go? I'll tell you how it was going to go, with every single one of Daryl's crossbow bolts sticking out of Shane's body.

I shook my head. I wasn't afraid of telling Daryl what had just happened. I was afraid this would fuck things up with his perspective of these people. Daryl had a great time today, had a great time with everyone. If I told him about Shane, that would be it. He wouldn't want anything to do with this group ever again. Which didn't make sense given that no one had anything to do with what Shane just did. However, I knew Daryl wouldn't give two shits, and deem we leave.

If he asked that of me right now, I didn't think I would say 'no' to that at all. I resisted the urge to curl in on myself. I didn't want to be within a hundred mile radius of this place anymore.

I wanted to tell Daryl. I wasn't sure how my PTSD was going to be from here on out, and I needed his support more than anything, especially if I lost my mind and had a go at Shane. Daryl would be the only one able to hold me back. However, if I told Daryl…Let's face it, he'd get to Shane before I could. Neither I nor Rick would be able to stop him.

Rick, though it was never said out loud, was now the leader of the group, his best friend being the previous leader. They treated each other like brothers. And while Rick was not unreasonable, if me or Daryl did anything to Shane…

Rick was an emotional person. Even if there was reasoning behind what we did – if we did anything – we would always be known as the ones who killed his best friend.

However, the biggest factor was the bond Daryl was going to have with the group. And I did not want to mess that up. I distinctly remember telling him, 'Let's hope I don't fuck up, then.', I thought with a bitter snort.

"Jesus," I hissed exhaustedly. I was going round and round inside my own head, with no end in sight.