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The floor-length mirror in the bedroom of an abandoned farmhouse is half blind and covered in a layer of dust. But Carol can see every detail.

The freckles on her pale skin.

The scars.

Daryl's tanned, calloused fingers, sliding over her ribcage.

You are too thin, he whispers.

She watches as his hands cover her breasts, softly kneading.

He presses tender kisses against her neck. In her head, she hears the taunting voice of Ed.

Ugly. Old. Hag.

She closes her eyes, can't stand it to see her figure in the mirror, in broad daylight.

Open your eyes. See, what I see. You're beautiful.

His fingers tease her rosy nipples, roaming her body, she sees the muscles of her stomach twitch, his hands run down further south, parting her folds.

Awesome. Beautiful.

She sees her wetness glistening and she hears Daryl's shallow breath.

Her knees buckle, she feels overwhelmed and loved and she watches in awe how he takes her to the edge with strong fingers and she sees how she falls apart under his ministrations and she doesn't close her eyes.

Gorgeous. Mine.