Chpt 2: Shattered
"Beth!" Maggie hollers from the foot of the stairs.
"What," Beth hollers back, rounding the corner from the living room.
"Take this up to Daryl. I got somethin' I gotta' do,"
Beth takes the tray and shoots her sister a coy little grin. "You mean somebody you gotta' do?"
Maggie slaps her lightly on the side of her head and tells her to shut it.
Beth heads up the stairs thinking about what she might say to Daryl first. They haven't spoken since that evening under the oak tree, not much anyway. There's been a, "hey" and a grunt here and there, but no real talking. She's caught him looking at her plenty, not in a creeper sort of way, not even like he much wants to have anything to do with her kind of way. Its more like he's trying to figure her out. Trying to decide if she's worth anything in this new shit ass world.
Andrea shot him three days ago. He's upstairs in the bedroom across from hers. "Serves him right,"i she thinks to herself. "Shouldn't 'a stole my horse." She's mad as hell now that she knows he's gonna' recover. She's still not sure what she's gonna say to him, but she's run out of time. She knocks on the door and hears the bed squeak from the other side. When he doesn't answer, she knocks again.
"Yeah?"
She can hear the scowl on his face. Jerk. She opens the door without a word and walks right in. "I brought yer supper." He just looks at her like she's offered him piss in a bucket. "Sit up so I can put this tray down," she snips.
Daryl scoots up in the bed, wincing a bit with the effort. Beth plops the tray in his lap and steps back, arms crossed over her chest. He starts to eat and tries to ignore the hole she's burning in the top of his head. But she stands there, boot tapping on the hardwood floor, scraping on his nerves until he breaks. "The hell's wrong wit' you, girl?"
"Are you serious? You stole my horse!"
He doesn't rightly know what to say. Her cheeks are on fire and those blue eyes of hers are impossibly big. His eyes float over to the little braid that disappears into her blond ponytail. He isn't a man of many words, but it's rare that he's struck speechless.
"Well… what have you got to say for yerself?"
His eyes snap back to hers. "I aint apologizin' if that's what yer lookin' for."
She stomps her booted foot. "You took Nelly without askin'! You're damn lucky she made it back home with all those things walkin' around out there."
"I was lookin' for that little girl. Needed that damn horse to cover more ground. Aint apologizing for that. Dumb ass horse nearly killed me."
"All you had to do was ask. I would've let you take her. And I would've warned you about all her little quirks. She's skittish, and she don't trust easy. Might 'a saved ya that fall, and stopped ya from gettin' shot too." She's starting to sound a little hysterical, even to herself. Daryl can't help but notice how thick her accent gets when she gets riled up. She takes a deep breath and finishes with a quiet, "you just should 'a asked."
Daryl considers her point and offers her an apologetic grunt. Sensing that's all she's gonna' get, Beth heads toward the door. Daryl's hand shoots out and lands on her wrist. " 'M sorry." Beth nods and gently shakes herself loose from his light grip. She rubs at her wrist as she crosses to her own bedroom. That weird tingling is back where he touched her, and her cheeks are warm following their little spat.
It's a scant few days later and Daryl is standing next to the bed where he's spent the last week recovering. He's been in the bed too long. His body is healing, but he feels weak, slow. The house has been unusually quiet the last two days, too quiet. Lori has been the one to bring him his meals since Beth was last in his room. She hasn't said much, just leaves his food and asks him if he needs anything before she goes. He figures Hershel's pissed, maybe Annette too, at Beth being in his room, at Beth being anywhere near him at all. Daryl stretches and rubs at his shoulder. It still hurts like a son of a bitch, but it's time he got back to pullin' his weight. He grabs his crossbow and steps into the hall. His eyes land on Beth's door. Its open, and from this angle, he can see the end of her pink and yellow clad bed. There's a chipped guitar on a stand in the corner and a pile of sheet music stacked on a pale yellow dresser against the wall. He wonders if she's the one he's heard singing and playing on the piano downstairs.
Daryl sniffs and pulls his mind from wherever the hell it just drifted off to. He trots down the stairs to an empty house. Outside, all is quiet, but something's not right. Daryl can feel it in his gut. He heads toward the RV and hears Shane yelling down by the barn. Rick is yelling too. He sounds desperate, "Stop, brother!" he screams. Daryl takes off at a run sliding to a stop behind Beth and Maggie. Shane is pounding at the lock on the barn doors. No one else is moving, everyone's attention solely focused on those doors as the growling behind them reaches a feverish and terrifying crescendo. Shane rips down the last remaining board and the animated dead stumble forth. From the corner of his eye, Daryl sees Hershel fall to his knees. Maggie is on him in a second, grabbing his shoulders from behind, disbelief covers her face. Jimmy rushes for Beth, his arms encircling her tiny frame. She pulls away and teeter totters on shaky legs, but she holds herself upright. Her hands land on the top of her head and she stares at the dead in horror as they amble forward. Shane fires the first shot, and all hell breaks loose. Daryl rushes past Beth spinning as he passes to face her. His hand lands roughly on her hip for the briefest second. Beth's eyes lock with his. "Stay back," he commands, and he disappears from her line of sight as quickly as he appeared.
Beth's eyes are darting from one monster to the next. Her mama and her brother have been missing for two days now. They went to gather eggs and never came back. She knows in her heart that they won't ever be back. Would rather have never seen them again as opposed to seeing them shuffle out of that barn snappin' their jaws and reachin' forward blindly like something had them on an invisible string. Beth sees her. Her mama. She takes a step in her direction, arms reaching, but that thing aint her mama anymore. Daryl's shotgun booms and the thing that her sweet mama has become reels back, cheek exploding on impact. Beth, like her daddy, falls to her knees.
The last walker falls, and the world goes quiet. Everyone lowers their weapons, each trying to make sense of what just happened. Its then that one last walking dead emerges from the barn. Nobody moves. Nobody breaths. The little girl that once belonged to Carol, the thing that she once called Sophia stumbles forward. This animated shell is different than the others. It's almost hesitant as it steps into the light. The driving, insatiable need to eat, to kill, so obvious in the snapping jowls of the ones that have come before her is somehow replaced with a quiet curiosity. This small beast almost seems a little scared. She growls tentatively, a quiet grumble like a pup finding her bark. Carol screams and rushes forward. Daryl catches her, drags her back, pinning her gently to the ground. The noise seems to agitate the little monster and the grumbles grow to full on growls. Her teeth slam together as the hunger kicks in and her footfalls increase in speed. Everyone jumps when the bullet leaves Rick's gun. Sophia falls and Daryl lifts Carol from the ground. "Don't look," he all but begs. Carol pulls from his grip and trips over her own feet as she retreats. Something in Beth breaks, and she runs for the pile rolling a twice dead corpse from atop her mama.
Later that night, locked in the bathroom upstairs, she replays the horror of the day… the rotting corpse that once held her mama's sole as it surged forward snapping at her face. Daryl's arms as they wrapped around her chest lifting her from the ground and ripping her from her mama's grip. That final shot that put her mama down for good. Carol's anguish. Shane's accusations. Her Daddy's heartbreak. It's too much. It's just so wrong on so many levels. She feels all of it, all at once, come crashing down on her delicate heart. To her surprise, her heart doesn't break. It doesn't even crack. She's mad. No, she's furious. Well that's new. It's only really happened once before, not all that long ago, with Jimmy and Shane. Beth rears bag and slams her fist into the mirror over the sink. It cracks, and she screams, a feral whale that shakes the walls. She punches the mirror again and it shatters, as does she. She slides to the floor barely registering the cool burn over her left wrist. Its not until she raises her hands to cradle her face that she sees the crimson stain that covers her trembling hand. She watches as the flow reverses and multiple streaks race toward her elbow. She grabs a towel and wraps it tightly around her wrist as Maggie begins pounding on the door, screaming her name over and over again. Beth opens the door and immediately apologizes for breaking the mirror.
"Beth! What have you done?!" Maggie stares at her in disbelief. There's an accusation in her tone, and there is also fear. There's a whole lot of fear. Isn't she tired of being scared? Beth sure as hell is.
"I punched the mirror. I'm sorry… I just…"
"Daddy!" Maggie screams…
Beth's standing at the foot of her mama's grave, yellow wildflowers in hand. The stitches in her wrist are starting to itch. Daddy was right, the itch started this morning, day seven, just like he said. This is her third visit to her mama's grave since she took out the mirror upstairs. Beth steps forward and lays the wildflower bundle, tied neatly together with kitchen string, at the base of the rudimentary cross that marks her mama's resting place. Her eyes drift to the fresh mound of clay next to it. Shawn's grave. A sudden memory of Beth and her brother fishing in the creek floats through her mind. She swipes at the wayward tears that escape the corner of her eye. Its then that a pair of dusty work boots appear next to her own dusty cowboy boots. "You a'ight?"
Beth sniffs and nods. Daryl surprises her when he angles her way and lifts her hand to inspect the bandage covering her wrist. His eyes cut to hers, silently demanding an explanation. Beth opens her mouth to speak but hesitates. She knows that Maggie still thinks she cut herself on purpose. She tried to explain to her why she punched the mirror. Tried to convince her of the truth, that the cut was an accident, but she doesn't think Maggie believes her. Daryl swipes his thumb over her palm and Beth finds the confidence to speak. "I punched the mirror in my bathroom. Punched it twice. Cut my wrist on one of the shards."
Daryl is chewing on the inside of his lip, mulling over Beth's explanation. "You cut it on purpose?"
Beth shakes her head. "Didn't even know I'd done it until I looked down and saw the blood. Maggie tell you I did it on purpose?"
"Nah. Just wonderin'," he says, seemingly satisfied she's given him the truth, and lets go of her hand. "Healin' up okay?"
"Yeah. Stitches come out in a couple of days."
Daryl nods and starts workin' on the inside of his lip again.
The silence is comfortable, but Beth would be lyin' if she said she didn't like the sound of his voice. "Carol okay?"
Daryl shrugs. "Aint easy"
"No, it aint." Another minute ticks by in silence. Its Beth that interrupts the quiet again. "You alright?"
Daryl bristles at her question. "Why wouldn't I be a'ight?"
Its Beth's turn to shrug. "You spent all that time looking for that little girl. I know you and Carol are close," she all but whispers.
Daryl relaxes a little. Something about this girl smooths his edges. "I'm good."
Beth nods and turns her attention back to her mama's grave.
Daryl surprises them both when he asks her if she's had any more trouble from Shane. "He aint been acting right lately. Somethin's up. Just stay away from him, ya hear?"
"Not a problem," Beth assures him.
He looks at her a minute more and the hint of a smile begins to play at the corner of his lip.
"What?" Beth asks.
"You really punch a mirror hard enough to shatter it?"
Beth raises her still bruised knuckles for him to inspect. "Had to punch it twice, but yeah, it shattered."
Daryl shakes his head and that hint of a smile grows just a little. "Wha'd that mirror ever do to you, girl?"
"Got in my way, I suppose," Beth retorts and her chin jets up daring him to disagree.
Daryl snorts before backing away slowly and turning to go.
"Hey Daryl!" she calls. He turns back to face her but doesn't stop walking away. "You got a last name?"
Daryl scowls at her, but there's no venom in his eyes. "Dixon. Name's Daryl Dixon."
Beth smiles. "I'll see ya later, Mr. Dixon!" Daryl spins on is heels and disappears around the RV.
"Daryl Dixon," she says to herself. Rolls it around on her tongue. "Well that's about as redneck as it comes," she thinks. "I like it…"
Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. I haven't written in a while. Appreciate any feedback!