Eve's POV

It felt weird. Crying.

I haven't cried in such a long time. I almost forgot what it felt like.

More importantly, I forgot how it unties the knots inside.

I rubbed my dry eyes, taking slow deep breaths as everything that had been boiling over was finally gone.

"Sorry" I muttered, feeling a little uncomfortable warmth in my puffy cheeks after my sudden meltdown.

"What you got to be sorry for?" I don't even know anymore.

My shoulders barely lifted while I shook my head, and that's when I noticed his hand still on my shoulder. Seems he noticed too because I watched him glance at it before he removed it, turning away from me slightly.

I'm too tired to think too much into that, and found myself picking up a stick, burning the end of it.

Daryl picked up a couple small sticks as well, from his other side, tossing them into the fire and keeping one long one to burn the end of like I was.

Well this is different. Haven't had an awkward silence between us for a long time. Awkward enough that Daryl cleared his throat. Twice.

I almost thought I was missing something, some hint, but when I shifted to kinda get up, he stiffened. So I let one knee down to rest on the ground, tucking the rest of my leg under the other which is still up at my shoulder, and he seemed to relax again.

So I take it that means he doesn't want me to leave. Then what am I missing here? Why is it so awkward?

Does he feel awkward or am I just crazy?

I snuck a glance at Daryl and quickly directed my eyes back at my shoes when he looked at me.

Am I over analyzing this? I'm over analyzing this aren't I?

Ohhh I don't handle awkward well. Am I actually sweating? I feel like a twinkly teenager what is wrong with me? It's just an awkward silence, after an awkward moment, spawned by an embarrassing meltdown, following an intense argument.

It was my turn to swallow, clearing my throat a little. I took my stick out of the fire, blowing lightly on the end and put it to the dirt, starting the beginnings of complicated swirls in the loose dirt.

Ugh why is this so uncomfortable!? It's just Daryl.

I know neither of us do super well with physical contact but it was just a touch on the shoulder —there wasn't even any skin contact! And it didn't feel weird or uncomfortable when it was there, why is it so awkward now that it's gone?

Should I just leave? It's dark anyway and I gotta go sleep at some point tonight. Yeah, maybe I should just go.

I almost shifted to get up again but stopped.

Won't it be even more awkward if I just up and left?

Daryl's shoulder brushed mine as he shifted and I glanced over.

Why does he look so calm? Is it really just me over thinking?

I didn't realize I was staring at him until he spoke, tapping my shoe with his charred stick.

"What are those?"

What's wha—? I met blue eyes before I looked at my shoe, tilting my leg to see the thick lines carved in the side of the sole of my left boot.

A small part of me was grateful for the distraction but never in my lifetime did I think I'd forget about these. Hell I haven't been in the system for how many years? and I still put 'em on my boots when I got these years ago.

9 lines, carved into the side of my black sole.

My fingers grazed over the marks before I even realized I'd reached for them. "9 homes"

Floods of bittersweet memories from each one poured through my overworked head but the memories didn't bring the same sort of hurt they used to. Truth be told, sitting here now, it almost feels like it happened to a different person.

Like a movie, I remember most of it, but I don't remember how it felt.

I've put a lot of distance between me and those days.

"Were they all..." I looked over as he trailed off and watched him half shrug. "You know…?"

"Bad?"

He nodded, offsetting his jaw a little as he chew on the skin of his bottom lip. Something I've noticed he does when he's curious.

"Pretty much" I leaned my head back against the tree, looking up. "Some were worse than others but only one was anywhere near decent. On the bright side at least I got over my fear of the dark. On the dark side, it just transferred to confined spaces." I looked at the fire, trying not to think about it too much.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why d'ya get claustrophobic?"

"Ah" I licked my lips. This is a fun story. "When I was about 7, I was —like I said— scared of the dark."

"I was livin' in this house that already had bio kids of their own. Two of the older boys —teenagers— and they didn't like having another kid in the house. So when their parents went out one weekend, I think for their anniversary, they decided to lock me in the shed behind the house. Cheese brains left me there overnight."

I saw Daryl try to hold back a smirk at my creative insult.

"It was a tiny thing, maybe 3 feet wide, 4 feet long, and stacked floor to ceiling with yardwork stuff, tools, shed stuff."

"There was a storm that night. I don't know if it was a bad one or just a normal storm, but I remember it shaking the entire shed. Rickety as it was. I never liked storms before that."

"Why would ya after? Don't that make it worse?"

"I thought so too for the first hour or so, but...it was the only thing that broke up the darkness. It was the only sense of time I had. The lightning flashes gave me a second or two of light." I rubbed my hand on my knee. I can almost feel the dust on my hands.

"I don't know maybe it was exposure therapy or somethin' but it was… comforting. Made me feel okay to be alone. You couldn't smell the dust or the metal rusting, through the rain. Felt like I could breathe again."

Daryl nodded beside me, looking out at the forest line like he understood. Who knows, maybe he does. I haven't heard anything about his childhood.

"The thunder filled the silence, which probably would've made sitting in the dark worse."

"You, not okay with silence?"

I rolled my eyes, bumping his shoulder with mine but smiled. And don't you think I didn't notice that little lip quirk, Dixon.

"What happened after?" he passed me his burned stick as I broke mine in the middle of my dirt drawing.

I shrugged, "By the time the storm passed, I'd gotten used to it. The ease back into darkness was a little rough but even that faded when everything was kinda damp. Not as stuffy as before."

"You know, that's probably one of the only times in my life I've felt okay in a small space. Without the light and dust, I could pretend I was out in the open. I think I pretended I was sitting on a tree branch or something. Waiting out a storm so I could run home to a warm house. Mom and dad waiting for me. Wondering why I'd been playing out in the rain."

I haven't thought about that in a long time. I wonder when it was I gave up on those fantasies? Pretending I had a warm family waiting for me somewhere.

"Weren't ya cold at all?" He found another stick to burn in the slow dying embers of the fire that's no longer producing flames.

"By morning I was fine." I shook my head, finally noticing my buns had started to fall asleep from sitting too long.

"I even liked the dark more than the light after that." I chuckled. "I used to stay up late, just to wander around the house at night, in the darkness."

"Why?" Daryl looked at me, amused but confused (hey that rhymed).

I shrugged. "I don't really know, actually. I think it was just, a peace of mind thing. The dark made me feel safe. Still does, to be honest."

He nodded like he understood again. This time pulling his stick out of the fire pit and just staring at it, blowing a little.

"Kinda funny." he muttered.

I raised a brow.

"Started out as a sick joke on a kid, turned into jump scares for everybody you met since."

I smiled. I gotta admit I do see the irony. "Actually I uh… I got yelled at for being noisy at night in my next 2 houses. So I got quieter and quieter, till no one could even tell I was there. At some point It sorta carried over into daylight hours."

"You know I used to raid the house when everyone was asleep." I licked my top lip as a bigger smile broke out; reconnecting with 7-9 year old me.

"What for?" Daryl shifted, ready to be amused with the mischievous smile on my face.

"Looking through stuff people would get angry about if they knew. Looking for sugar most of the time actually." I scratched my neck and Daryl snorted.

"Why don't that surprise me?"

"I think it started as curiosity. I always liked knowing things other people didn't, or didn't want me to know. But I got really good at finding things nobody wanted found. And on the flipside, hiding stuff was a lot easier."

"When the other kids made me mad —which was all the time, cause kids— I'd hide their shit after they were asleep. I'm not sure they found all of it, actually."

Daryl stared at me for a flat second before he tried so hard not to laugh.

I bumped his arm with my elbow while he tried to stop but I laughed too.

It's good to hear him laugh. I admit it feels just a tad bit strange cause I'm not used to seeing this much emotion that isn't anger from him, but it is still.

It feels like it's been forever since I've— we've actually laughed like this.

"Come to think of it, maybe that's why I never had friends."

"Never?" Daryl calmed down from this bizzare giggle fit between us.

I shook my head. "Closest thing I ever had to friends were coworkers who didn't dislike me. Feels weird."

"What does?"

"Having friends. Telling life stories. I never felt the need to share anything 'bout my life before. I kinda wanted to forget it all at some point."

"What changed?" Daryl tossed his stick.

A long second passed but after that second was up, I did in fact find a reason.

I turned, looking that reason in the eyes. "I found someone I trust."