'We made it,' Beth grinned, turning to face Daryl.
He wore his usual uncomfortable expression and hoisted his crossbow up in way of response.
Beth looked around the room in awe. It would have once been the bar and recreation room but now it was disheveled; tables overturned, broken chairs, the bar was littered with tiny fragments of broken glass and behind it were the bodies of two people. Beth carefully stepped over them, bending down to peer behind the bar for a bottle of something alcoholic. Triumphantly, she pulled out the only bottle which was left. It was half full of clear liquid. She ran a finger over the label to clear the dust which had settled and held it up.
'Peach Schnapps, is this good?'
'No,' Daryl replied simply.
He was back to being sullen after his angry outburst. Beth let him get on with it, taking a seat at the bar and searching around for a vessel to drink from. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Daryl; he was rummaging through left over bags and stuffing yet more things into the leather backpack. She wondered how he was feeling but didn't have the words, or courage, to ask him. He wasn't the sort of person who was forward with their feelings or any sort of information regarding themselves. No one even knew what he did before the turn. Beth thought he might have been a mechanic or some other kind of manual labourer. He was built for the job; wide shoulders, muscular biceps, and beneath the layer or dirt and grime that covered them all, he had a tan like someone would get from working outside all day. She didn't even know how old he was. If she thought about it, she wasn't entirely sure how old she was herself. She was certain that she was eighteen, and she put Daryl at maybe slightly younger than Rick. She continued observing him; from somewhere he had found some darts and was violently throwing them at photos of who she assumed was the chairman and board members of the golf club. Something about him made her feel safe and, despite the fact that he wouldn't even so much as look at her, she knew that she could rely on him to protect her.
'You had your drink yet?'
Daryl's voice startled her back to the present. She shook her head and went back to rummaging around the bar for a cup or glass. Everything was coated in blood or a thick layer of filth. Beth picked up an old napkin and scrubbed at the inside of a cup to no avail. Who needs a glass anyway, she though, unscrewing the cap slowly.
Darts thunked against the wall, accompanied by the sound of low grunts of exertion as Daryl threw them. All of a sudden, Beth was hit by an overwhelming wave of sadness. The feelings that she had fought to keep at bay all day were rising, bubbling to the top and threatening to spill over. She swallowed, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes. Her task was over; she'd found the bottle of alcohol that she wanted to badly and now she felt deflated. The purpose to the day was finished and suddenly she felt lost, unsure of what to do any more and unsure of what would come next. Images of Maggie and her father swam before her eyes. What if she really would never see her sister again? She had lost so much already. Her sweet father, whom she loved so dearly was gone forever. She thought of him kneeling before The Governor, accepting of his fate as if he knew what was going to happen to him. The memory played in slow motion; the katana raised high in the air before swinging with such force against Herschel's neck, Rick's outcry of 'No!' and the burst of action that had followed. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye, never told him how she loved him and was proud of him for one last time. And this, this was why she needed a purpose in each day, so that these thoughts would not come boiling over and cripple her. It would kill her if she let it and she knew in herself that she had grown into a stronger woman than that. She needed to hold onto her hope and faith because only this allowed her to believe that somewhere, there was still good in the world. It may have been naive and made her appear weak, others may have mocked her for it but she clung on because it was what got her through.
Tears squeezed from her eyes and, angry and disappointed with herself, she tried to stop them which only resulted in a loud sob escaping from her lips. The darts stopped thudding against the wall and she was aware that Daryl was watching her, his face softened from the permanent scowl he had been wearing. He stood awkwardly, his arms hanging limply at his side, and Beth could almost hear his mind churning, wondering if he should try to find some sort of words of comfort. In two steps he had closed the gap between them and lifted the bottle from her hands. He smashed it on the floor, obliterating the glass and raining shards down to mix with the other debris scattered on the grimy carpet.
'Your first drink ain't gonna be no damn peach Schnapps,' he offered by way of explanation. 'Let's go.'
He opened the door which led outside and waited for her to hop down off of the barstool instead of stomping off like he had been doing previously. Beth dried her eyes, wiping the tear stains from her face and took a deep breath. She reprimanded herself for allowing her emotions to take control of her. Reminding herself that she didn't have time to cry, she forced a smile onto her pale face and stepped out into the sun.