Chapter 8
"Fuckin' shit, Beth." Daryl groaned. "You tryina' give me a heart attack?" Beth stood in silence, the shampoo bottles lay mute at her feet. She wished the ground would swallow her up. "I…" she began, watching Daryl attempt to cover himself with a sodden towel he'd grabbed. "Your back…" she whispered again. This made him freeze, all his muscles visibly tensing. "What?" he challenged darkly, staring at her from under his dripping fringe. "The scars on your back…" Beth croaked, her mouth becoming incredibly dry. "I didn't ask you to fuckin' look at me." He replied.
He hated her seeing him like this, stupid and pathetic. It was everything he tried not to be. The way she just stood there, not wanting to come any closer, it confirmed to him how ugly he was. No wonder she'd run away from their kiss. He didn't want to talk about himself, the scars, his dad, the abuse. But he felt that she deserved an explanation. "My dad used to beat the livin' fuck outta me, that what you wanna hear?" Daryl said, much more aggressively than he'd meant to.
The shower was the only noise still echoing around the tiled room. Outside the world was in ruin, but the space between them seemed heavy with palpable meaning, it was extremely human and ever so slightly vulnerable.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Beth sniffed, tears threatening to pour down her cheeks. In the quiet she'd imagined him, a small handsome boy, raggedy and sweet. Intense pain crippled her at the notion of him being made to suffer, beaten black and blue until his scars were permanent. Daryl noticed her emotion and mistook it for revulsion. He turned his head, staring at a faint crack in one of the tiles.
"Daryl, I want you to look at me." Beth said, her voice shaking. "I, I know it's not the same, but I'm not perfect either…" she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, and beginning to pull her shirt over her head. Strangely shaped scars were revealed across her ribs on the left side. Being exposed made her blush, but she wanted to make him feel less alone, to show him he didn't need to be ashamed. With trembling hands she went on to unbutton her jeans, pulling them from her legs, and removing her socks.
She was stood before him wearing only her tiny pink underwear, nipples hard and sensitive against the fabric. The room was spinning uncontrollably as she slipped off her bra and panties. Daryl's eyes lingered on her scars then touched quickly on her slender curves, he bit his bottom lip and gulped nervously.
He couldn't help but stare.
Her breasts were perky handfuls, tipped with erect pink nipples. Daryl's mouth watered, wanting to suck and bite them till she moaned for him. He thanked God that he was still clung to the towel, his dick was growing harder than he'd felt it in a long time. It was becoming difficult to hide. His gaze fell to Beth's crotch, where she stood with her legs almost pinned together, she was trying to hide it from him, but he could still see her soft petite lips. He almost growled with the desire to fuck her, hard.