Be The Karma You Want To See In The World

As soon as the distant sound of Daryl's motorcycle faded away in the distance, Beth retreated inside the farmhouse. She texted Shawn, "No break, just an open gate" and he responded thirty seconds later with "thx." She went upstairs briefly to put her purse in her bedroom, and while she was walking down the hallway, she stopped at the closed door to her dad's room.

She knocked lightly and listened for the muffled "come in" before pushing the door open and peering inside. Hershel was lying atop the duvet on his bed, fully dressed except for his shoes, with his hands folded over his belly. He opened his eyes and gave Beth a soft smile.

"Daddy, are you feelin' okay?" She asked, looking him over with concern and stepping closer.

"I'm fine, Bethy," he assured. "I was just havin' a little rest. Feelin' weak today."

She knew what that meant: it was code for "having a bad day." Because for the last few years, he'd started having days where he simply couldn't do much at all. Bad days, when just the act of standing or staying awake was too much exertion. So he would lie down and rest, though he always refused to spend the entire day in bed. Even if he didn't walk anywhere else but around the yard and through the house. Even though that much activity seemed to take its toll all the same. He claimed he was just "feeling weak." But…

He's getting so old. He's dying, Beth thought.

Her stomach knotted up and very suddenly, she was overcome with the urge to sit down and pour her heart out to her father. She wasn't sure why.

Of course, that was a terrible idea. It wasn't like telling him about her Gift and fessing up to her week's worth of lies would fix anything or make anyone feel better. So she shoved it back and forced a smile. He hated it when she worried.

"Well I was about to get dinner started," Beth said. "Are you gonna come eat with us in a little bit?"

"Absolutely," Hershel smiled. "Call me when it's ready. I'm starvin'."

She nodded and slipped back out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

A few minutes later, she was in the kitchen, preparing dinner and anxiously awaiting Merle's inevitable return. The silence and the aloneness were almost jarring, because when was the last time she'd gotten this much time to herself? Surely it wouldn't last long.

In a way, she didn't like it. It gave her too much time to think back over everything she'd learned, everything she'd seen, everything she'd felt… And the more she thought about all that stuff, the heavier the weight upon her shoulders grew. Merle and The Governor and Dale and Irma and oh, Daryl's poor mama… Papa Legba waiting at every turn, ready to snatch Beth's soul all for himself…

She also couldn't help but overthink her conversations with Daryl and second-guess herself. Maybe she had been too harsh. Now that she had a little retrospect, she could see why Daryl was getting upset about how much she bagged on Merle. That was his only brother, after all. And he wasn't just hearing it from her, he was also hearing it from Carol and Rick and basically everyone who'd ever met Merle. He'd probably been hearing it for years. She could understand how that might get irritating after a while.

And she'd gotten so defensive about Shawn after no more than a few comments… Damn. Now who was the hypocrite? Beth was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed by how she'd acted. Maybe she should apologize, because Lord knew Daryl didn't deserve to be punished for his brother's faults. Nor did he deserve the brunt end of her frustration just because she was overwhelmed.

Yeah, she decided. She owed him an apology. It wasn't his fault she was at the end of her rope.

Then a chill ran down her spine.

"A woman in the kitchen, right where she belongs—now that's what I love ta see."

Well, that was short-lived.

Beth glanced back over her shoulder to see Merle sitting at the kitchen table and wearing his usual smug smile. She ignored him and continued chopping vegetables.

"So what'd ya think, blondie?" He asked, completely unfazed by her cold shoulder. "Was Darylina's li'l BFF all ya hoped she'd be?"

Beth huffed out a breath and replied quietly without turning around, "Didn't really get a chance to find out, thanks to you. Always interrupting 'cause yer jealous. It's kinda sad, really."

Merle cackled. "Jealous? That's cute. If anybody's jealous here, I think it's you. Wanted ta meet the competition, didn'tcha? Just admit it."

"I don't have any competition," she said flatly. Then she shot him a glare from over her shoulder and muttered, "You opened those gates an' set that steer loose so I'd have to come home early, didn't you?"

He grunted indifferently. She chopped the vegetables a little harder than necessary, resentment and frustration tightening all her muscles.

"You was wastin' time," he said. "Both y'all. I did you a favor, princess."

"A favor?" She snapped. "Yer nothin' but a nuisance."

His smug demeanor faded and he spoke firmly. "Why the hell you tryin' so hard ta get close to my brother? Huh? What you think yer gonna get outta that? Meetin' all his friends an' shit—'s just gonna make it harder."

"Make what harder?"

"The end, dipshit. The day he says 'thanks fer savin' my soul, see ya around.' How many times I gotta drill it into that thick skull a yers that there ain't gonna be no happily ever after once ya get rid of me?"

Beth scoffed and blinked back tears. Where did those come from? Why was she suddenly so upset? "You're so stupid."

Merle laughed coldly. "I'm stupid? I'm not the one fallin' fer some dude who don't want nothin' ta do with me. Hell, I'd be surprised if Daryl's even capable of lovin' a woman—let alone, a woman like you."

She had to fight back another onslaught of tears, though she still wasn't sure why. Since when did Merle's words actually mean anything to her? Why were they cutting so deep tonight?

"I think it's pretty clear you got no idea what Daryl's capable of," she argued. "And I'm startin' to think you never really knew him at all—in fact, I'm thinkin' that more an' more everyday—but you sure like to act like you did."

She knew that hit the nerve she'd been aiming for because Merle went silent for a second. Then he sucked his teeth loudly and she refused to look back at him, focusing instead on the minced garlic between her fingers. But she could feel his eyes boring holes through the back of her head.

"You start gettin' a little power an' now ya think yer hot shit, huh?" He said, his voice low and menacing. "Best remember how it feels ta be standin' next ta that dreadlocked demon, sweetheart. 'Cause none a this shit is gonna mean a goddamn thing 'f yer too lovestruck an' cocky ta keep yer fuckin' head on straight."

Beth opened her mouth to spit back a retort, but the creak of the stairs outside the kitchen made her go silent and swallow her prepared words. And a couple seconds later, Hershel was entering the kitchen, leaning heavily on his old wooden cane.

She finally turned her head to meet his curious gaze and feigned a smile. He smiled back, though he was glancing around with a puzzled expression.

"Now I know that wasn't yer singin' I heard," he said. "Who were you talkin' to, Doodlebug?"

Merle let out an obnoxious laugh. "Fuckin' Doodlebug. What a nickname—and fer a grown woman who wants ta talk shit to a ghost." He laughed a little louder. "That always gets me!"

Beth quickly turned back to the vegetables in her hand. "Nobody, Daddy. I was just talkin' to myself."


By the time Maggie, Glenn, and Shawn returned home, washed up, and sat down for dinner with Hershel and Beth, the sun was rapidly sinking behind the horizon, leaving a burnt orange sky full of twinkling stars outside. They all sat in the dining room, conversing and eating the meal that Beth had prepared.

Merle was still present, and he seemed to be getting a kick out of making crude remarks from the corner of the room. He kept taking jabs at Beth's confidence and her "obvious crush on Darylina." But she was determined to ignore him and enjoy having dinner with her whole family for once. This was the last night she'd get to share the dinner table with her big sister until God knew when. She wasn't going to let some dead asshole ruin it.

The conversation around the table was smooth and congenial for the first half of the meal, mostly focused on Maggie's wedding plans, as they had been all weekend. Then Maggie started talking about her and Glenn's Halloween plans, which led to Hershel asking Shawn how the pumpkin delivery went, and shortly after that, Shawn mentioned the steer that had gotten loose while he was in town. Which led to him turning to Beth, fork in hand, and asking through a mouthful of food, "Y'said it was just an open gate?"

She nodded.

"Well who left it open?" Hershel asked, looking to Shawn.

Shawn frowned and said, "Sure as hell wasn't me." He looked at Beth expectantly. "Y'think it was Ernie?"

She wasn't about to blame one of their only reliable farmhands for Merle's mischief, so she quickly shook her head and lied, "No, I think it was my fault. I didn't double-check 'em when we fed the cattle this mornin'." She shot her father a pitiful look and added, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I know better—it won't happen again."

Shawn scoffed, but Hershel merely hummed.

"'S long as we got the steer back, no harm done," their father said.

Glenn chimed in innocently, "I heard Daryl's bike—did he come help you find the steer?"

Beth glanced over in time to see Maggie flashing Glenn a side-eye and nudging his leg under the table. He winced and shot her a clueless look, lips snapping shut.

"Daryl?" Shawn questioned, glaring across the table at Beth. "Thought you said you weren't with him when I called."

Beth rolled her eyes and looked down at her half-eaten meal. "You asked if I was still in town with him. I wasn't. He gave me a ride back an' offered ta help look for the break in the fence. What's it matter?"

"It matters 'cause it's distracting you, Beth," Shawn insisted. "You leave the gate open 'cause you were too busy daydreaming about Daryl?"

Maggie cut in, "Shut up, Shawn. It was one open fence. You sound ridiculous right now—just let the poor girl live her life."

"I'd love to," Shawn snapped back, turning on his other sister. "But she's still got a life here, an' when she starts forgettin' about it, apparently I gotta step in and give 'er a reality check."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Glenn mumbled. He shot Beth an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"You got nothin' ta be sorry for," Maggie interjected, glaring pointedly at Shawn. "Beth's an adult, she shouldn't have to sneak around."

Shawn set his fork down hastily and said, "Nobody said she has ta sneak around, but when she's one of the three people that's runnin' this whole goddamn farm, I need her to keep her fuckin' head outta the clouds."

At that, Hershel cut in angrily, booming out with his Dad Voice, "Language! Can't I have one dinner with y'all without an argument?"

Shawn quickly shut his mouth and looked down in shame. Maggie, Glenn, and Beth all did the same, and there was a chorus of mumbled "sorry"s around the table. Hershel heaved out a sigh, shaking his head.

"I know you've had a long season, Shawn," he said, his voice stern and fatherly. "And I know you have your own life to live, Beth. But this farm always comes first. As does this family. We're all tired. We've all been overworked for the last several years. But that's no excuse to be talkin' to each other like this."

He paused and looked around at each of them, visibly disappointed. They all seemed to shrink beneath his gaze.

"Now let's change the subject," Hershel said. "I'd like to sit here and enjoy this meal with my family. Things change quickly, so we should appreciate what we have in the moment."

Beth's shoulders hunched in shame. She was trying really hard to continue tuning Merle out, but based on his chuckles and muttered remarks, he was enjoying the show.

She wouldn't turn around or even glance in his direction, though she could hear him laughing. Cold and taunting.

"Didn't I say I was doin' you a favor, blondie?"


Maggie kept shooting Beth looks that said "we need to talk" throughout dinner and afterwards, but they didn't get a chance to discuss any of the updates on Beth's Gift and the fate of Daryl's soul. Glenn hung around and helped them clean up the kitchen, and then they all spent about half an hour sitting together in the den and talking. Merle got bored when he realized he wasn't going to get any of the reactions he wanted out of Beth and disappeared, mumbling something about Daryl and "his dyke roommate."

Once Glenn and Shawn both started dozing off on the couch, Maggie decided it was time to call it a night, especially considering they all had to be up early enough to finish the morning chores and get ready for church. Hershel wasn't ready to go to bed yet though, and he bid them all goodnight while he remained in the den with the TV playing quietly and his feet propped up on the ottoman.

Beth stayed behind and sat close to her dad on the couch, watching one of his programs with him and enjoying the brief Merle-free moments. But after only one episode, Hershel yawned loudly and decided that it was time for bed. Beth volunteered to walk him up to his bedroom and tuck him in.

He moved slower than usual and she knew he would need some help getting ready for bed, as he usually did on his Bad Days. She didn't mind. She helped him slip his shoes off and made sure he had support while he changed into pajamas. Then she guided him carefully over to the bed and kept a close eye while he climbed in and slipped under the covers. There was a rocking chair in the corner that she pulled up to the side of the bed, intending to sit by and talk to him until he fell asleep. Like she usually did on his Bad Days.

Hershel hummed in contentment as he snuggled down into his pillow and looked over at Beth with heavy-lidded eyes. He smiled and she smiled back, reaching out and taking one of his weathered old hands in hers. For a brief second, she remembered Dale and his aged hands. But her father's were a lot different. A lot older, more calloused, more worn down from decades of hard work. And weak. He'd always had strong hands and a very firm grasp, but nowadays, he seemed to struggle just to keep a firm grasp on his cane.

"You're a good girl, Bethy," Hershel said, his voice quiet and sleepy. He patted her hand. "Don't you let yer brother get to you. He's just worried about the farm."

Beth gave his hand a squeeze. "I know, Daddy. It's okay. He's worried 'bout the farm… and me."

Hershel chuckled. "He doesn't like seein' his baby sister grow up."

She smiled weakly.

"And neither do I," he admitted. "But that's part of life. Gettin' mad an' passin' judgment isn't gonna solve anything. I learned all those lessons from raisin' your sister."

Beth let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I bet." Then she shrugged. "But you know how Shawn is. He's never liked anybody me or Maggie dated."

Hershel's eyebrows rose. "So you are seeing Daryl?"

She rolled her eyes but it was too late, it had already slipped out. Her cheeks flushed red and she glanced away, embarrassed. "No, Dad. I didn't say that. We're just friends."

Hershel chuckled. "Whatever you say, Doodlebug." He reached up with his free hand and booped her on the nose affectionately. She giggled.

"He's too old fer me," she said, her smile fading as she grew serious again. "Besides, I don't have time ta go gettin' myself a boyfriend. Shawn's right—the farm comes first. That means you come first, too. And I know that."

Hershel shook his head. "No, no, c'mon now. Don't hold yerself back for the sake of your old dad. The farm might need you, but you can't keep isolating yourself, sweetheart. You've been so dedicated—and I love you for it, that's how I raised you ta be… But it broke my heart when I realized I hadn't seen you make a new friend since high school. It's partially my fault, I know. I let yer mama's condition—and my own grief—take precedence over everything, even you girls. I didn't pay attention when I should have…"

"Daddy, no," Beth cut him off. "It's not your fault. Not at all. I didn't mean to isolate myself, it just kinda… happened." She shrugged. "I don't need friends, anyway."

Hershel's face fell and he squeezed her hand tight. "Don't say that, babygirl. Everyone needs friends. You can't make it through life all alone."

"I'm not alone," she said. "I have you. And Shawn, and Maggie, and now Glenn. Sheriff Grimes is my friend, too."

"That's not what I mean, honey," he told her. "You need friends outside the farm. As much as I love havin' you here, I could never forgive myself if you wasted yer whole life worryin' about me an' yer brother and not goin' out and making your own memories. Living your own life. I always had a feeling you'd do big things, Bethy. Bigger than any of us could ever imagine."

Beth found herself blinking back tears and she looked down, hoping he hadn't seen. "I don't wanna do big things, Daddy. I just wanna… live a good life. Be a good person." She ran a fingertip over one of the deep lines on his hand. "I wanna help other people. That's all."

Hershel huffed out an amused breath. "And you don't think helpin' other people is the same as doin' big things?"

She shrugged awkwardly. "I guess it can be… sometimes…"

There was a beat of silence and she lifted her head to look at him, expecting to find him half-asleep. But he was fully awake. And he was gazing at her thoughtfully.

Then he whispered, "You're so much like your mama. Sometimes I gotta remind myself she's gone, 'cause I see her in you every single day…"

Beth shook her head and gave her father's hand a squeeze. "Stop it, Dad. Yer gonna make me cry."

He squeezed back. "I'm serious, Beth. All your mama ever wanted was to help people. That's what made her such a good nurse. And such a good mother." His eyes were getting watery and he blinked, a reminiscent smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And such a good wife… She helped me more than I could ever tell ya. Josephine might've gotten me sober, but it was Annette who kept me on the straight an' narrow."

Beth went silent and stared at her father, listening intently and trying to fight back the tears that wanted to build.

Then he sighed softly and closed his eyes. "She gave me hope. After I lost Josephine, I thought for sure I'd never be lucky enough to find love again. Then your mama found me…"

Beth smiled. She'd heard this story a million times already. But she never got tired of hearing it.

"I was a foolish man," he went on. "So pessimistic. I thought the Good Lord had given me what I deserved and that was that. I didn't wanna risk makin' another woman's life harder; didn't expect any decent woman to be willing ta take in a bitter old widower and his rambunctious little girl."

Beth perked up and stared at Hershel's closed eyelids with intrigue. She'd never heard this part of the story.

"What d'you mean?" She asked softly. "Why'd you think the Lord had given you what you deserved? What'd you think you deserved, Daddy?"

Hershel shook his head, barely opening his eyes to meet Beth's with a twinge of shame. "I've told you how I wasn't the best man before your sister came along. The drinkin', the gamblin', the thievery—all them bad decisions that shoulda landed me in jail an' somehow never did."

She nodded, wide-eyed and attentive. "But you turned yerself around when you took over the farm. And then you met Josephine and had Maggie…" Yeah, she could recite the whole story. They all knew about their dad's redemption arc in life.

"I never told you about my father," he said, his tone becoming more somber. "What a cruel man he was… how much he hurt me, and how I turned around an' let all that hurt turn into anger and hatred. My pa wasn't a good person. Not by any means."

He met Beth's wide eyes and added, "He was just like Daryl's daddy. Lazy, abusive. A good-for-nothin' piece of crap. He made my life Hell. He had me convinced that there wasn't nothin' worth a damn in this world. So I kept all that anger and hurt inside… and I tried to punish the whole world fer my own suffering."

Beth furrowed her brow, listening intently. Sure, she'd heard very brief mentions here and there of her father's "younger days," back before he was a man of God, when he was still drinking away every penny he earned. But she'd never really known anything about how he was raised except that his dad was really strict and his mom was really complacent. Past that, it was always about how the "only good thing" his dad ever did was die and leave him the farm. She'd never thought to question it; she'd simply assumed the grandfather she'd never met had been cold and distant, like so many parents back in those days tended to be.

She couldn't have guessed he'd been abusive. Or anything like Will DIxon.

"But the only person I was really punishing was myself," Hershel lamented. "It took me a long time to learn that I didn't have to think of myself as worthless just because that's how my father taught me to think. I missed out on a lotta rewarding relationships and experiences because I was jus' too damn stubborn… but then I took over this farm. I made a couple good friends. Joined the church. Met Maggie's mama. Became a father. Tried to repent for all the harm I'd done… Losin' Josephine put me back a bit. I almost lost my sobriety, if I'm bein' honest. 'Cause I thought I was finally reaping what I'd sowed fer all those years I turned my back on God."

"Like Karma had come back to bite you?" Beth guessed. "After all that time? Even though you were tryin' to be better?"

He snorted. "Yeah. Like Karma. Or some kinda Divine Punishment."

She kept listening, giving her dad's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Hell, I thought the sun would never shine again." He paused and chuckled, and she could see the wistful expression ghosting across his features. Heard the sudden uplift in his tone. "Then Annette came along… and she downright shoved herself into my life. Gave me no choice. But I'll tell ya what: I needed it. I needed somebody to tell me I was worth a damn, to pry open my foolish eyes and make me look around to see what'd been right in front of me all along. I needed somebody ta show me that love isn't a once-in-a-lifetime experience. She showed me that it's everywhere. That we ain't gotta bury it, 'cause it doesn't die. Not with the ones we gave that love to. Not ever…"

Beth didn't know what to say to all of this, so she didn't say anything.

Hershel let out a tired sigh and concluded almost dreamily, "Your mama was the sunlight when I thought the rest of my life would be cloudy."

All Beth could do was absorb her daddy's words and file them away in her mind. After the day she'd had, she wasn't sure if she was ready to explore the implication that came with his advice. She wasn't prepared to gaze into the mirror he was holding up for her.

"He will be searching for a light amongst the darkness and he will find it lying within the Greene Farm."

No, she wasn't ready to think about that. Not just yet. Not tonight.

A long moment of silence had passed and she was beginning to think he'd finally drifted off to sleep, but then he lifted his heavy eyelids and gazed over at her with a smile. "I feel like I haven't heard that pretty singin' voice of yers all week, Doodlebug. Why's that?"

She blushed and said, "I dunno. I guess I haven't been singin' much the last few days."

Of course she hadn't. She was being haunted by the loud and obnoxious ghost of Merle Dixon. Most days, her voice could be heard all throughout the farmhouse and in the yard outside as she sang to herself and worked. But that hadn't been the case ever since Merle showed up. She barely had time to think, let alone time to hum to herself or sing. She hadn't realized her dad would notice the difference, though.

"Would ya sing me somethin' now?" Hershel asked, a hopeful smile peeking out from beneath his white beard.

Beth chuckled. "Sure. What d'you wanna hear?"

"Dealer's choice," he said.

She sighed and looked down at his hand clutched between both of hers, absent-mindedly running a fingertip over his knuckles as she went through a mental list of songs he might like to hear. Once she decided on one, she kept her gaze cast downward. Though she straightened her back and took a deep breath before letting her soft singing voice escape.

"Every man has a right to live…"

The sound bounced around inside the bedroom, and Hershel slowly closed his eyes. She could feel him relaxing as she sang, his eyes falling shut and his hand going limp in hers.

"…As the sun lights the day and the moon lights the night, strugglin' man keeps reachin' for the higher heights. So we plan for tomorrow as we live for today, like a flower we bloom and then later fade away… Strugglin' man has got to move. Strugglin' man, no time to lose. I'm a strugglin' man, and I've gotta move on…"

Hershel had already fallen asleep by the end of the first chorus, but Beth went on to finish the whole song anyway.

She couldn't explain why—not even to herself—but she was thinking about Daryl while she sang her daddy to sleep.

Somehow, she'd never given the idea any realistic consideration, but… what if she'd been meant to help the last living Dixon? What if their fates were intertwined, and not just because she was supposed to save his soul?

What if they were meant to save each other?

She shook that thought from her head as quickly as it appeared, though. Because it was ridiculous.

She didn't need to be saved from anything. And even if she did, she was perfectly capable of saving her damn self.

Hershel drifted off to sleep and his hand went limp, chest rising and falling steadily. But Beth remained in her seat, both hands still grasped around his. She watched him sleeping with a deep ache inside her chest.

Her voice escaped in a near-silent whisper, barely audible in her own ears. "I wish I could tell you the truth, Daddy. About how Mama was right—she was always right. How Maggie's mama was right, too. We were born special. Your old Irish blood is different. Your daughters are Gifted. But we're cursed at the same time…"

His chest kept rising and falling, and she could hear him beginning to snore.

"I wish I could tell you what I can do. I wish I could tell you how generously God gifted me with the power to help people. I wish you knew how hard I'm tryin' to save two different people's souls. And I wish I could ask you fer advice, 'cause I think… I think I'm startin' to care about Daryl. A lot more than I should…" She paused and sniffled, her voice going even softer and quieter. "And Daddy, I'm scared. I don't know what to do. 'Cause I know it's not my job to fix people, but I'm startin' to think I could help Daryl fix himself… or at least learn to forgive himself… And I think you'd agree if I told you that his soul doesn't belong in Hell. I think you'd want me to help him… But I don't know what you'd say about Philip. I don't know if you could ever understand what kinda decision I'm gonna have to make before this is all over. Nothing is ever gonna be the same after this. At least not for me. Or Daryl…"

She sighed and gazed over at her sleeping father. "I should've just gone to college. Then it all woulda gone away and I could've been normal, like Maggie. I wouldn't have to lie to you. I wouldn't have to think about what's gonna happen when you cross over and I don't see you… how I won't be able to keep you here…"

Beth's voice trailed off but she remained in her seat. Watching Hershel sleep. Lost in her own torturous thoughts. That deep, unidentifiable ache blooming larger and larger within her chest.

Finally, when Hershel started snoring loudly, she decided it was time to retreat to her own bedroom and try to get some sleep. Even though it was barely eight o'clock and she wasn't even close to being tired enough to lie down.

She left her father sleeping soundly in his bed, shutting off his bedside lamp and closing his door once she slipped out into the hall. She could hear Maggie and Glenn whispering and laughing quietly from behind their closed bedroom door, and Shawn's loud snoring could be heard through the whole second story from behind his door.

Thankfully, still no sign of Merle. Beth couldn't even sense his presence. She hoped he was lurking around Daryl and Carol's trailer, eavesdropping and pissing himself off. At least that meant he wasn't her problem for the night.

Beth retreated to her bedroom, but instead of changing into pajamas and crawling into bed, she left her light on and went to the desk. She pulled out a small leather book and a pen from one of the drawers.

She barely wrote in her journal anymore these days. Ever since her mom died, she simply hadn't felt like she had much to write about. She'd grown used to keeping all the thoughts and feelings locked away inside her head; sorting through them silently while she did chores or cared for her dad.

But tonight, she couldn't do that. She had to tell someone. She had to sort through all these emotions in her own way. A way she hadn't felt comfortable with reverting to in quite a while.

She opened the book up and flipped through a handful of pages filled with her own curvy handwriting. She stopped on a blank page and jotted down the date at the top.

Then she began writing:

"I've tried to ignore this for years and pretend it never happened, but facts are facts and I can't keep denying what's so obviously real and true.

I'm Gifted. I come from a long line of Witches, and one of my ancestors narrowly avoided being persecuted and killed in Ireland. I can see dead people. I can talk to them. I can travel from the mortal plane to The Other Side with the same effort it takes to breathe.

And I believe God gave me a purpose. I'm supposed to help other people. Because it turns out, Heaven and Hell aren't so cut-and-dry as folks like me have always believed. Sometimes, good souls go to bad places. And vise versa.

For the last 7 years, I've been trying to figure out what I wanna do with my life. I've been waiting for that "Calling" that everybody talks about. I've been searching for that "Purpose" that's supposed to guide me through life. I always thought it would be some kind of office job or something, or that I might just be destined to work on the farm for the rest of my life.

But I think maybe God has different plans for me. I met a Swamp Witch. He's a good man, and he does good things with his Gift. I hope I can be like him one day. I'm still not sure, but if I can make it through this and do what needs to be done… maybe I could do it again. For other people. Kinda like The Swamp Witch. Maybe I could make a purpose for myself.

Or maybe I'll just screw everything up and doom two souls to an eternity in Hell while a murderer runs loose.

But Daddy always says, you'll never know unless you try. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna try. And I'm gonna pray that God's on my side for this one."

She set her pen down and read back over what she'd written. A few minutes later, she'd added five more paragraphs about how she felt, what she remembered, and how conflicted she was throughout the whole thing. She thought about all the journals packed away at the back of her closet, and how they were all full of the weird little incidents from when she was younger; how she hadn't known what the hell was going on when she'd written them. How simple the explanation seemed now, in retrospect. If only she'd known. If only she'd had any idea…

Then she went on to feverishly scribble six more paragraphs after that.

This time, she stopped because her hand was aching. She dropped her pen and stretched her fingers out, skimming over her words. She'd written Merle's and Daryl's names so many times that she'd had to start referring to them as M and D. And gazing back over it, she realized just how often those two capital letters were present throughout her new entry. Particularly D.

Her brain was starting to feel fried, yet her heart was still heavy. She shut her journal and pushed it away, letting out a deep breath and glancing back at her bed. But she still wasn't tired. Her mind wouldn't stop racing. And the aching in her chest wasn't getting any better, either.

For the first time in several years, a cold beer sounded good. She rarely, if ever, felt like this, but right now? After the day she'd had and with all the crap that was swirling around in her head and her chest? Maybe a beer—or a shot of strong whiskey—was just the thing she needed to relax her body and ease her mind.

Too bad Hershel didn't allow alcohol in the house.

Beth leaned back in her desk chair and heaved out a sigh. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table to see that it was just past nine. She tried to remember if there was a liquor store in town that stayed open past nine… Probably not.

Then an idea popped into her head and, on a whim, she reached over and grabbed her phone. She opened her text messages and tapped on the conversation with Daryl.

Before she could stop herself, she typed out a message and hit Send.

I need a drink.

Of course, as soon as she saw that her message had been Delivered, she regretted it. What was she expecting, anyway? Daryl was probably already in bed, or busy trying to keep Dog from freaking out at Merle's presence.

But then the phone vibrated in her hands.

? Like booze?

She rolled her eyes and texted back with a smirk, "Well I wouldn't be texting you just to tell you I'm thirsty…"

She didn't expect such a quick response, but a few seconds later:

Ok smartass. Thought you didn't drink.

Beth typed out, "I don't. But I think tonight is an exception. Can't sleep. Can't relax."

She pressed Send and waited.

He replied, "So what you want me to do about it?"

She was still smirking as she texted back, "Idk all the liquor stores are closed so I thought you might have some beer?"

A full minute passed before his next message arrived, and she replied without a second thought.

Don't you have church in the morning

Lol yeah so?

Her muscles tensed, half-expecting him to stop answering. Not that she would take it personally…

Then another message arrived:

All I got is half a bottle of moonshine

Her smirk grew into a full grin and she typed back, "Homemade ?"

Ha ha very funny

I was being serious, but…

There was a long pause after her text. She was about to lock her phone and set it aside, prepared to admonish herself for bugging Daryl at this time of night. Almost embarrassed to realize that a large part of her wanted an excuse to see him again.

But to her pleasant surprise, he texted back:

Well I can't sleep either.

Her thumbs hesitated over the keyboard on her screen before tapping out, "So…?"

This time, a full two minutes passed, and Beth really was ready to toss her phone aside and change into pajamas. She was starting to think she never should've texted him at all. That she should've just crawled into bed and allowed her restless thoughts to drag her into a half-sleeping state.

Until her screen lit up with a text from Daryl. And her heart leapt.

Pick you up in 20?

to be continued…