Tear Drops on My Guitar
He found her in her cell, writing in her journal like she did every night before she went to bed. It was late, he knew that. He'd just gotten back from a run, and he had something for her. She looked up, the candle light reflecting off her storm blue eyes. She smiled and closed the book. "You're back." She got up and walked over to him, hugging him. "I was beginning to think something happened."
He wrapped his arms around her. "Nah, just had to go a little farther than usual," he assured her. "I uh, I brought you something." He picked up the guitar from behind the wall where he'd been hiding it. Her eyes lit up when she saw it and she smiled, gently taking it from him. "Thought you'd like it, ya know, when you sing."
Beth smiled and leaned up on her toes, kissing his cheek. "Thanks," she said softly. Daryl nodded and watched her sit down on the bed, stroking the strings. He'd done good. He smiled and headed to his own cell to get some sleep.
…
Beth was numb as she made her way back to her cell. He wasn't coming back. They'd found his bike, crashed on the side of the road after he'd been gone for a week. They found his crossbow not far off. With all of the blood, they assumed the worst. She sat on her bed, pulling her guitar onto her lap, tears falling onto the varnished wood. "I love you," she whispered before she started to write him a song.