Chapter Five - Merle
"Hey, bitch." He growled, his face inches from her.
"Riley, it's Riley, and what's wrong?" He was snarling at her.
"My shirt, my bow, my pack…" He was snarling, and on his hands and knees. "WHERE IS MY SHIRT!"
"Daryl, stop. I cleaned it, it's drying. I stitched you up." He slammed into her, pushing her against the door frame, his hands on the front of her dress. She closed her eyes, and closed her hands over his. "Daryl, I patched you up. Please, I only wanted to help."
"Bet you liked laughing at my scars, huh?" He slammed her down.
She slumped against the floor for a moment. "He did that to you, didn't he? My mom… her dad beat her and her siblings, molested and raped them too – is that what…" Her voice trailed off as he once again grabbed her, slamming her against the wall, tears streaming down his face.
"Stop." She stopped moving. She stopped talking. She looked at him, he looked at her, she was crying too. "Are you afraid of me?" he snarled.
"No, I just, I feel your pain, that was something that I always have been akin to, feeling what others do… understanding things others would miss…" Her voice trailed off. He set her back down, gently. He straightened her dress.
"How long was I out?" He wiped his eyes, and nose, and grabbed his shirt.
"All night. After you… uhm, elicited revenge… you passed out, you had a fever… I got some antibiotics into you. I uhm, burned my old clothes to keep you warm when the chills set in on you." She was not shaking like a leaf like other women would have been, nor was she acting like a hell cat and fighting back. She would have let him do whatever he needed to feel better. He didn't know if that was incredibly brave or stupid. Had he been Merle he might have hurt her something furious.
0-0-0