WARNING: EXPLICIT VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER. DO NOT READ IF YOU WILL BE OFFENDED BY THIS MATERIAL.

Take Me as I Am
Chapter 5
[Demons]

"Alright folks, here be a good place to rest for tonight," Joe nodded at the metal warehouses with rusted junk cars in the yard. "Them car workshops offer some mighty good protect from these walkers once can we secure it. We'll head out again tomorrow morning." He pointed at the closest building, its rusted door partially protected by a raised porch rail.

Some of the men grunted in response, while a few just followed behind the others silently. They approached the door cautiously, readying themselves for the unexpected.

Daryl reached over at his belt and withdrew the knife Beth had dropped inside the tunnel earlier this morning. "Hang on to this and don't lose it again. Ever. And don't leave this spot 'til I say you can, got it?"

He watched her bright blue eyes burn with defiance, a frown marred her dirt covered face. "I ain't a kid. You don't have to talk to me like that."

He stared at her for the longest moment, emotions absent from his face. He knew she wasn't a child. Hell, there had been so many occasions where she did prove having more skill and grit than many of the old friends in the prison. Still, a part of him never wanted her to leave his side again. He hated being alone. He caught her angry frown change into a curious, questioning look when he stared at her for a bit too long for her comfort. "I ain't say you were," he gritted out before abruptly releasing her hip and shoulders to join the men in clearing the building.

It didn't take long before the last of the walkers were disposed of and tossed to a corner of the lot, out of sight and out of mind. Daryl wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeves of his jacket and entered the building to do a double take of the security of the place.

Like Joe had said, it was certainly a safer place than a house once the lot has been secured. The windows were high up, out of the uncoordinated climbing of the walkers. Walls made of reinforced steel and concrete, with two metal doors. If it weren't for these men with him and Beth, he would've set this place up as a safe house.

"So, she must be that little bitch that has you wound up on her little finger huh?" Randy sneered behind him as they made their way towards the exit of the building.

Daryl stopped mid-stride, his shoulders tensed up considerably. His nostril flared as he took in a deep breath of the oxygen rich air as his heart began racing in anticipation. He was going to kill this bastard, right here… right now. No more excuses.

Not sensing the impending doom his way, Randy continued his taunting. "Man, if I had me a nice piece of ass like hers… I'd be all wound up after her tail too. Fuck, you mind sharing?"

Daryl gripped the handle to his knife, and with a rustle of his clothing, he closed in the distance between him and Randy. His knife effectively found its way to the man's throat, just a light breath away from slitting it wide open. "I dare you to fucking say that to me one more time, motherfucker."

His eyes narrowed when Randy's grin grew wider, laughter racked through his body and echoed within the workshop. "What? Did I say somethin' wrong, fellar?" He put his arms up to each side, a mocking gesture of surrender. "You have my deepest, upmost sincerest apologies," Randy jeered, not caring that the sharp blade pierced against his skin, leaving angry red streaks alongside his neck.

Daryl had every intention to just jerk his hand and end the life of this miserable excuse for a man, if not for the hand that gripped his right shoulder.

"I ain't gonna say he's a gentleman, Daryl. He's got a foul mouth just like his daddy. You got a choice here, and if you choose the wrong one… well I can't guarantee your safety here in this group," the person, Joe reasoned, his grip on his shoulder tightened firmly. "You gotta think about the little lady too," he added in a whisper, allowing for his ears to hear only.

Daryl's insides burned with rage—he was so damn angry he could spit blood. But he knew Joe was right, as much as he didn't want to. Here, it was just him and Beth against six grown, armed men. It would be a straight path to Hell if he killed Randy now. Eventually, he'll get his. Daryl bit his tongue and shoved Randy roughly, causing the jeering male fall onto his back. He shrugged off Joe's hand and stalked out to the tracks, where Beth waited for him.

He saw her concerned stare as he approached closer, but he didn't say a word. Making sure the knife was secured around its sheath on her hip; he hoisted her up in his arms.

"What is it?" She asked, concerned.

"Nothin'," he grunted as he made his way up the few steps of stairs. He then settled her onto her feet. After straightening his posture, he reached over and put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her intently. "Stay where I can see you," he said in a hushed tone after a long pause, then released his hands and stalked into the building.

-0-

A part of her wondered what could've made Daryl so moody. It had only been yesterday that he mentioned staying in the funeral home for good. She wished that plan had come true, maybe then… maybe then she wouldn't have to fight her demons.

The chill of the night wind caressed her body, raising the hairs straight against her skin. The thought of spending the night with the group of strangers made her heart race in anxiety, the only thing that gave her hope and reassurance was Daryl. She knew, without a doubt, he'll protect her. Taking in a shaky breath, she took entered the rust and fuel scented building.

She felt like a chunk of bloody meat in a lion's den.

All eyes were on her, analyzing her every move. With her head held high, her gaze steady, she tensed her injured ankle and walked over to Daryl, settling close by him. She hoped she didn't look like she was limping too much—it would only mean she was an easy target. As soon as she sat onto the musty floor, the group returned to their duties.

"Claim," a few of them began saying, tossing their bags over the rusted cars.

Beth watched them warily; questions began forming in her head. Where they claiming the cars with a word? From the corner of her eye, she saw the other bowman, Randy, watching her.

"Claim!" he hollered loudly and spat noisily onto the floor in front of him, all the while watching her.

She turned her head, fully facing him, a glare of disgust in her eyes. She scoffed at his insinuating grin when he wiggled his eyebrows and humped the air in front of him. Her stomach churned with fear, knowing exactly what he wanted, but she didn't let it show. She couldn't. Instead, she turned her back to him and scooted closer to Daryl, who had his eyes clenched shut, his posture tense.

She let out a soft sigh of exhaustion after she tucked her right arm under her head, laying on her right side facing Daryl's body. She wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't tired. But she hated the thought of going to sleep. Awake, she could control her thoughts and actions, but in her dreams… if she were in that nightmare again, she feared Daryl won't be able to save her.

The thought of being taunted in her dreams unnerved her—it wasn't so much the dream, but the reason why she was having it. It was out of her hands, she couldn't have saved him even if she wanted to… but God, did she have such a heavy sense of regret and guilt in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes, silently slipping from the corner of her eyes and onto the cold concrete floor. A soft sob escaped her lips, her eyes shot up to see if Daryl noticed. Thankfully, his eyes remained closed as if he was slumbering.

She adjusted her position, sniffling as she turned to her left side, her back facing Daryl. She curled her legs closer to her body, conserving as much heat as possible against the chilly floor. A shaky sigh escaped her lips; she tried hard to stop her tears.

She didn't leave God behind. No, He's still deep within her soul but… was He? The words of the fallen priest had cut her deep. It made her realize that she hadn't prayed or thank the Lord for anything since the fall of the prison—since her mother's death. She would be lying if she said she didn't blame a part of the apocalypse on God. Every time she closed her eyes, she could hear the fallen priest's words of the promise of death and Hell. A part of her felt he was right—she felt as if she betrayed the Lord, and it tore her insides up in shreds.

She didn't know if her sobs had awoken one of the men when she heard a loud cough and clearing of the said man's throat. She bit her bottom lip in attempt to stop her crying.

"Beth," she heard Daryl's whisper for her.

She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, turned slightly and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah?" she whispered back, hoping her nose didn't sound too stuffed. It was obvious that she had been crying. She didn't hear him respond; instead she felt his arm around her waist and tugged at her lightly.

"Com'ere," he commanded softly, pulling her towards his body.

Beth submitted; the thought of another human's warmth comforted her. She scooted backwards until her back was just a couple of inches from pressing her body against his.

"Lift your head."

She lifted her head, allowing him to slip his arm under her head, serving as a soft cushion against the hard floor. "Thank you," she whispered her voice still stuffy and hoarse. She felt his body shift to the other side, as if reaching for something. A rustle of plastic sounded and she was soon covered in a small ragged blanket. A small smile grew on her lips, "Thank you," she whispered again.

"Hm," he hummed in response. After a brief moment of silence, she heard him speak. "Somethin' pestering you?"

Beth shook her head lightly, "No." She didn't hear another word from him after that. She was thankful that Daryl Dixon was here to comfort her, out of everyone she could hope for, she was glad it was him. With his body heat radiating off his body and the comfort of his blanket, she soon drifted into a dreamless sleep.

-0-

She awoke to the sensation of heavy pressure in her pelvis, telling her she needed to relieve her bladder. Groggily, she cracked her eyelids apart. The building was still dark with the exception of the ethereal rays of the moon streaming through the windows. She slowly eased herself up, careful not to wake Daryl up. Somehow throughout the night, she ended up turning her body around and had laid her head close to his chest.

A small blush crept onto her face; she had never slept with a man before. Except when she crawled into her parent's bed when she was little during thunderstorms—but that didn't count.

She scooted herself from under the blanket and headed towards the door. At first she thought of using an inconspicuous corner of the building, but the thought of one of the guys watching her urinate made her stomach churn something foul. She reached for the bolt to unlatch it when she realized it was already unlocked. A part of her worried if someone snuck into the building, but if it did happen that way, Daryl would know.

The dull, pressurized pain of her bladder forced her to not dwell on these thoughts any further, and silently she slipped into the short concrete patio. She didn't dare to leave the door unattended, so she settled for the spot right below the staircase. That way, she can keep an eye on the door and have a safe way of alerting the others should a horde come.

She made short work of her jean button and zipper, slipping her jeans past her knees, she crouched down. A part of her wished there was toilet paper, and a hot shower, but she had to make do. Quickly finishing her business, she pulled up her jeans and stepped away from the puddle and started to secure the zipper.

"Hey gal," she heard a voice rasp in her ear. Before she could turn around to see who it is, a calloused hand clasped over her mouth and nose, an arm encircled around her waist and dragged her to the corner of the building. "I'd shut that screaming of yours before I cut your throat," he said the sharp point of a blade pressed against her throat.

Beth thrashed in his grip, pushing and clawing at his flesh with her nails, hoping she could get away. She screamed Daryl's name against the palm of the assaulter's hand.

"Shut the fuck up!" he hissed, withdrawing the hand that covered her mouth and slapped her face hard, rendering her dizzy and uncoordinated. Her arms, weakened, pushed against him once again, her legs kicking against his shins. She felt his sweaty hands grip at her breasts, squeezing it so hard she knew it would bruise if she were to live past this.

Seconds past, her squirming and kicking did nothing to deter her assaulter. A shift of his head, she saw the face of her assaulter in the moonlight through her tear stained eyes—Randy.

"I claimed you, you hear? You're mine," he rasped in his southern drawl, the stench of alcohol filled her nose, dragging his slick tongue against the length of her cheek.

Beth shrieked in terror against the palm of his hand. She felt the tip of the blade disappear from her throat and pierced at her collarbone. The sound of her clothing being ripped in half by the sharp blade sent waves of sheer terror up her spine. For the briefest of moments, he looked into her eyes—wild, and maniac-like.

He yanked her torn shirt past her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the chill of the night air. His hand that once covered her mouth gripped at her neck tightly, cutting off her ability to scream. His other hand made quick work of her unbuttoned jeans, and began to pull the fabric down.

A sudden urge of adrenaline coursed through her body, rearing herself up, she kneed Randy in between his legs. He staggered back momentarily, his face scrunched up in pain. Before Beth could catch her breath, he was on her again, this time; he threw her onto the dirt ground and straddled over her. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand, the other began undoing his belt.

"Stupid bitch, now you're gonna suck my cock to make it up to me," he slapped her across her face again to deter her momentarily. He freed himself finally and inched up her body, his crotch just a few inches away from her face.

She screamed and her head thrashed side to side violently, she jerked her body up with her legs, sending him sprawling on top of her.

"I said quit your mouthing and take it like the bitch you are!" He hissed, his hands moved down to her knees and began to pry it apart.

Beth frantically tried to kick him off of her, but she failed. Her arms flailed about, hoping to find something of use. Her hand touched the cold surface of a rock. Gripping it tightly, she slammed the rock against his skull repeatedly.

Randy screamed in pain, throwing himself to his side, clutching his head.

She saw the cold blade of his knife glisten under the moonlight, at the same time, so did Randy. She had to get it before he did. She got onto her knees and started to crawl towards the blade when she felt his hands on the band of her jeans, pulling it down past her thighs. "No! Get off me! Daryl! Daryl!" she screeched as she tried to get away from him mounting her in an animalistic position.

God help me, please! Please!

She felt him grip her hips, bile bubbled up her throat. She was so close, she was almost there. The blade of the cold metal brushed against fingertips when she felt him pull down her underwear.

Oh God, please…

"BETH!" She heard Daryl's voice.

"DARYL!" She screamed in return, but she knew he wouldn't reach her in time. She didn't want to lose her virginity by being raped. She would rather die. She stretched her arm a final time, praying she could reach that knife.

She felt his offending appendage pressing against her inner thigh. Horrified, she surged forward, slamming the front of her body against the ground and grasped the blade's handle in her hand. Twisting her body in an utmost uncomfortable and painful position, she turned and shoved the blade deep into Randy's shoulder just before he was able to penetrate her.

Randy howled in pain, shot up on his feet only to fall and lean against the wall, screaming in pain.

"Beth! FUCK!" Through teary eyes, she saw Daryl frozen in place, a few feet away from her and her assaulter. Within a blink of her eyes, Daryl darted past her, fury burning in his eyes. She cried as she pulled her panties and jeans up, her body ached to her bone all over. She heard the others file to the side of the building, armed and wary not knowing what was happening.

"You fucking bastard! I'm gonna fucking kill you!" She heard Daryl bellow. He pulled the knife from Randy's shoulder and shoved him onto his back. Randy didn't—couldn't, put up a fight before the knife descended into his throat. Daryl yanked the knife back, drenched in thick red blood; he slammed the knife repeatedly into Randy's skull until he went limp. Even then, Daryl continued to stab the bastard's skull until there was nothing but the base of his jaw and splattered remains left.

-0-

He wanted this bastard dead. He should've tortured the fucker first, he thought as he was driving the knife into his head. He wasn't going to stop. Not until there was nothing left but bones and scattered pieces of flesh.

"Daryl…" through the slushing of bloodied flesh, he heard her soft plea. His chest heaved rapidly, still not satisfied with his work.

"Please… Daryl…" he heard her soft sobs behind him.

He sneered at the limp body, tore a piece of the body's clothing and wiped his hands clean. "Good fucking riddance," he hissed and spat at the corpse.

He turned around to find her exposed, torn shirt and undone jeans—he was unable to meet her eyes. It ate at his insides to no end that he wasn't there to protect her. If she hadn't stabbed her assaulter in the shoulder, she could've… No.

He refused to be so cowardly. She was able to hold Randy off enough for him to dispose of him that was the fact. And now, she needed him. Needed him, desperately. He shrugged off his angel-backed vest and slipped it around her shoulders before crouching down on his knees. His hand reached in front of him to examine her bruising cheek, but she flinched away.

God, how his heart ached in his chest when she saw the terror in her eyes. She was afraid—of him… possibly of everyone. "I ain't gonna hurt you honey," he whispered, his tender and apologetic. He watched her bottom lip tremble, her tears pouring out of her eyes in rapid succession. "Beth, I'm here. I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated.

He waited for her to nod her head before he reached forward to caress her cheek. Her skin looked paler than the moon itself. It was no good staying in this group any longer. It could happen again. At least with one down, there was one less person to fight when they had to escape.

"Com'ere," he softly commanded, opening his arms. "I ain't got nothin' to hide honey. You know I won't hurt you." He didn't want to reach towards her until she was ready, until he knew she trusted him. He saw her clench his vest against her body tightly, her knuckle turning white with the force. "You trust me, Beth… don't you?"

She sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Slowly, she inched closer to him. She was still hesitant, unsure of the anything… everything.

"Honey, it ain't safe out here with all this blood. We gotta get inside. Come on, Beth. It's just me. I'll protect you, Beth… I swear it… this time I will protect you."

He didn't expect her to throw herself into his body, almost knocking him off balance. But he was grateful that she did. He could hear the groans of the undead closing in on them, attracted to the scent of the blood. As much as he hated the thought, they would have to stay in the building for a couple of days for her to recover and the walkers, to hopefully go on by.

Daryl enclosed his arms around her and tucked her safe in his arms before lifting her up and headed towards the building. A part of him wished he kept the bastard alive and string him up on a tree to let the walkers eat him alive. Enough of that, Beth needed him.

"I'm here Beth. I'm here, I'm sorry… I'm sorry I wasn't there to prevent this," he whispered in her ears after he brushed past the group of shocked males. He hated himself for not being to prevent it. He swore he would protect her, how will he be able to keep her trust knowing he failed her this time?

"It's not your fault Daryl," she whispered in the softest voice, barely audible to his ears if her lips weren't by his ears.

"Beth, I'll protect you from now on," Daryl promised, this time, he'll be damned sure he will keep his promise to keep her safe. "Stay with me, honey, I'll protect you," he repeated to her like a mantra.

After a short silence, he felt her nodded. "I know, Daryl…. I know. I trust you."

/

JR- Wow, almost 4,000 words! Have to work in 5 hours but I had to finish this chapter before sleeping.

Let me know what you guys think!

(P.S- I like to write and read in the 3/4 to 1/2 page format on fanfiction, so the story may be more pleasing if you switch to that view if you haven't already! Thanks for reading!)