A/N: this is a dark!fic, so please keep that in mind. Title taken from The Used song of the same name. The entire fic was inspired by the Therapy Gecko episode "I Became A God," the call that starts at 34 minutes in.

Prologue

Daryl was so tired from work, he didn't even notice the UHaul parked outside of his apartment complex until he realized it was in his usual spot. With a sigh of frustration, he parked next to it and made a mental note to keep checking for when it would be gone so he could move his bike. He didn't feel like bothering management about it since it was just a moving truck and would most likely be gone by the end of the day.

When he stepped out of the elevator and onto his floor, he headed straight for his apartment at the end of the long hall. He brushed past a twenty-something Asian guy carrying a moving box labeled KITCHEN without even making eye contact. Though when he reached his door, he stopped and glanced over to see the guy opening the door to the apartment just three units down and carrying it inside. A female voice rang out from inside, "Oh, put that over on the counter!" But then the door was shut again and Daryl went back to unlocking his own apartment and stepping inside.

Must be the new neighbor, he figured. He'd make a point of introducing himself sometime in the next couple of weeks. Not because he intended on making friends, though. Just because he was cordial with everyone on his floor and it was the neighborly thing to do.

Every tenant on the third floor had Daryl's phone number and knew his usual work schedule, so it just made it easier to keep an eye out in case something went wrong. Particularly with the elderly neighbors—there were two on this floor, both of them widowed old women, one with multiple cats and a bad hip, and the other with a pair of small dogs and a hearing problem. The neighbor across the hall was a woman around his own age named Rosita, but she worked long shifts in the ER and rarely had time to socialize. Four units over was a couple in their mid-30s with a toddler, both of whom worked opposite shifts at a restaurant. And Daryl's only direct next door neighbor was a retired Army medic in his 50s who worked the graveyard shift at some government facility. Daryl had learned all their names, but not really by choice.

Again, it was just the neighborly thing to do. They all watched out for each other since this neighborhood wasn't exactly the safest, but it was one of the only affordable places left in Atlanta for those who didn't want to deal with roommates.

As soon as he walked through the door, his three-year-old Belgian Malinois—aptly named Dog—greeted him by jumping up and placing both front paws on his chest. He ruffled Dog's fur and gave him a hearty greeting before setting down his helmet and bag and grabbing up the leash.

On his way back to the elevator, he and Dog passed by the new neighbor's apartment door again, though this time it was open. Daryl glanced over and saw no sign of the Asian guy, but he did see a young woman on her way out. She looked sweaty, flushed, and tired from moving, and what he could see of the inside of her unit was filled with furniture and moving boxes. She stopped in the doorway and flashed him a friendly smile. He offered a brief nod of his head and a half-smile, but didn't say anything.

She was pretty—blonde and petite with sun-kissed skin and big, blue-green eyes—but clearly young. If he had to guess, he'd say fresh out of high school. Maybe in college. The community college was only about three miles away, so that would make sense. Maybe the Asian guy was her boyfriend or something. Maybe they were both moving in. Who knew.

Though Daryl didn't speak to her, he could've swore he felt her eyes on him the whole way to the elevator.

It was almost bedtime when Daryl left his apartment again to take Dog outside one more time. To his relief, the UHaul was gone and his parking spot was free, so he moved his bike to its designated space before heading back inside. The sounds of footsteps, furniture being moved, and doors opening and closing had finally ceased. He guessed the moving was done, or at least he hoped so. If not, he hoped they'd finish up while he was at work tomorrow so he could enjoy the usual peace and quiet of the third floor.

When he returned to his apartment, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. There was a piece of paper sticking out from between the crack of the door and the frame. He slipped it out and found it folded in half. Unfolding it, he found a phone number written down, and right below it was the name Beth with a small heart and her apartment number.

It was the number of the apartment where he'd seen the new blonde girl moving in.

He shoved the paper into his pocket and retreated inside, locking the door behind him. Thinking nothing of it, he loosed Dog from the leash and went about getting ready for bed.

Later, as he was getting undressed and preparing to lie down for the night, the paper fell out of his pocket. He went ahead and grabbed his phone, entering the number and name into his contacts before he forgot. It was no different than having his other five neighbors in his contacts list. Then he tossed the paper into the trash and went to bed.

It wasn't until he was on the verge of drifting to sleep that he wondered to himself, Why the heart?

The next week was uneventful. Daryl went to work, came home, took Dog out, ate alone, and even went to the bar with a couple of coworkers one night. He hadn't seen much of his new neighbor, though. One day, he stepped off the elevator just as her door was closing and saw a flash of blonde hair before she disappeared. But other than that, all was peaceful on the third floor.

It was Sunday evening and he was relaxing on the couch with Dog, watching a movie and munching on popcorn, when there was a knock at his door. He paused the movie and furrowed his brow, listening to make sure he'd heard correctly. He wasn't expecting any visitors, and everyone he knew would text or call before showing up. Another knock came and Dog perked up, letting out a bark.

"Stay," Daryl ordered, placing a hand on Dog's head before standing up and walking to the door.

He peeked through the peephole and, to his surprise, saw the new blonde neighbor. What was her name?

Oh. Beth. Beth with a heart.

He opened the door, stood before her with bare feet, still wearing sweatpants and a wifebeater. "What's up?" He asked, glancing down the hall curiously before settling his eyes on her.

She was beaming up at him, her blonde hair curled and her makeup carefully applied, wearing skin-tight blue jeans, an even tighter yellow tanktop that left an inch of midriff showing, and bright yellow high heels. He wondered if she was about to go out somewhere and might be asking him to keep an eye on her new place. But where was that Asian boyfriend or whatever?

"Hi, I just—" she started, pausing and swallowing hard before plastering on her brightest smile once more, "I, um, I wanted t'introduce myself properly. Since we're neighbors now. I just moved in a few doors down." She gestured towards her door down the hall. "I uh, I left my number for you, but I'm not sure if you found it or not. I didn't get a text or anything."

Daryl frowned, keeping his gaze focused on her wide, innocent eyes. "Yeah, I got it. Sorry, I put it in my phone but I didn't really think 'bout shootin' ya a text or nothin'."

"Oh, that's okay." She giggled, high-pitched and almost forced. She put her hands behind her back and pushed her chest out. "I just thought it'd be good to have each other's numbers. Just in case, y'know?"

"Yeah, 'course," he agreed. "We all got each other's numbers on this floor. Couple'a elderly ladies we try t'keep an eye on. Where's yer boyfriend?"

At that, her smile disappeared. A crease formed in her brow. "Boyfriend?"

"Uh, Asian guy? Saw 'im carryin' some boxes into yer place. Figured he was movin' in with ya."

Her eyes widened and she laughed loudly. A little too loudly. "Oh my gosh, no! That's not my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend. That's my brother-in-law. He was just helpin' me move. I'm, um, I'm living all alone in my place. First time on my own. I'm not seeing anybody at all. I'm single. Very single."

Daryl quirked an eyebrow and shrugged indifferently. "A'right. Cool. Sorry, didn't know. Jus' kinda assumed."

She nodded eagerly. "That's okay. So um, your name is…?"

"Oh, yeah—Daryl. You're Beth, right?"

Her face lit up, smile growing wider. "Yeah, I'm Beth." She licked her lips and said, "Nice to meet you, Daryl."

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his hand still on the open door. "Right, well—did'ja need somethin'?"

"Yeah, your phone number."

"Oh." He huffed out a half-chuckle. "Sure. I'll text ya in a few minutes. Kinda in the middle of watchin' a movie."

"Okay, sounds great." She grinned. "What movie?"

Christ. Was this girl lonely or something? Or just nervous about being all alone in a new place? Maybe he should cut her some slack. It could be scary living in a whole new building all by yourself for the first time, especially at her young age.

"Hateful Eight. 'S like a Western—"

"Oh, I love that movie!" She interrupted. "D'you ever watch scary movies, though? They're my favorite. I have to sleep with the lights on afterwards, but it just makes me feel so… alive, ya know? Especially slasher flicks. Like, it reminds me of my own mortality or somethin'."

Daryl narrowed his eyes. There was something wild in her gaze that sent a chill running down his spine, but he tried to keep his voice even and reasonable. "Sure… uh, so I'mma get back to it. I'll text ya an' you can jus' lemme know if ya need somethin'."

Her face fell slightly, but she quickly plastered a bright smile back on and nodded. "Okay, yeah, that sounds great. Thanks, Daryl. I'll see ya around."

With a grunt of agreement, he shut the door softly. But he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was… off.

He remained standing where he was, glancing over his shoulder to see Dog still on the couch, ears perked up and head tilted in curiosity. Then he turned back and leaned forward, just enough to peer through the peephole.

He had to stifle a gasp when he saw Beth's face up close to the peephole, as if she were trying to see inside.

What the fuck?

But then, a second later, she stepped back and gave one more lingering look at the door before turning and heading back to her own apartment. He waited until he heard the sound of her door opening and closing before he returned to the couch.

He shook his head to himself and sighed. Poor girl must just be lonely. It was probably her first time away from her family. She seemed like a naturally outgoing person, so maybe she was just desperate to make friends. And it wasn't like she had many options on this floor unless she wanted to try and catch Rosita in between 16-hour shifts, or deal with a screaming toddler, or listen to a couple of old women prattle on about their dead husbands and estranged grandchildren. Wasn't like she could catch Bob either, considering he slept all day and worked all night.

He made sure to pull his phone out and send a text to the new contact Beth before starting his movie back up.

Hey. This is Daryl.

He didn't get a full minute back into his movie before his phone was vibrating with a new text message. From Beth, of course.

Hi, Daryl! So good to finally have your number. Can't wait to get to know you better, neighbor!

He didn't respond.

Over the next two months, Daryl kept to himself, as he usually did. He went to work, came home, walked Dog, took some relaxing motorcycle rides out of the city, and spent a couple of weekends camping and hunting. He even made time to visit Merle in prison one Saturday, and the next weekend, he had Sunday dinner with his best (and almost only) friend Carol, her daughter Sophia, and Carol's new boyfriend, Ezekiel.

But every week, without fail, he received a new text from Beth. It was usually "Hey, Daryl, how are you?" or "Hi, Daryl, it's your neighbor Beth! Got plans this weekend?" or "I ordered too much pizza! Wanna come help me eat it? They gave me cheesy bread that I didn't even order LOL."

He only responded once or twice, and it was never more than "Sounds fun but sorry, I have plans" or "I'm pretty tired, maybe another time." He made sure not to give any indication that he had any interest in being more than neighbors.

Then one night, he got a text after midnight on a Friday. He'd literally just gotten home from having a few drinks at the bar.

Hey, Daryl, I'm feeling pretty lonely. Mind if I come over? We could watch a movie. I'd love to meet your dog! My dad used to be a vet and I grew up on a farm so I'm really good with animals!

With a sigh, he texted back:

Listen Beth, I don't mean to be rude or nothing, but I'm not really looking to make any new friends. I have a pretty busy life and I'm sure you do, too. Let's just stay neighbors, ok?

He pressed Send even though the guilt was already building in his gut. He hated to sound like such a dick, but apparently, he needed to set some boundaries with this girl. He almost told her to let him know if she ever needed help with plumbing or heavy lifting or anything like that, but stopped himself because he had a feeling she'd find a way to use it to her advantage.

Boundaries. Boundaries. Boundaries.

To his surprise, she texted back and said, Oh okay. I understand. Sorry to intrude. I just don't have any friends here. They all moved away after high school. My sister and her husband live on the other side of town, my mom is dead, and my dad is back home on our farm over an hour away. I was just trying to make a friend, but I guess I misinterpreted things. My mistake. It won't happen again.

He couldn't help but grimace at the text.

Fuck. Now he really felt bad.

Regardless, though… boundaries.

He texted back:

It's okay. Don't mean to be rude. I understand. I just don't think it's really appropriate for us to be friends.

He thought that would be the end of the conversation. But then, less than a minute later:

Why wouldn't it be appropriate?

He sighed.

Because I'm in my 30s and you're like 18. I wouldn't want you or anybody else to get the wrong idea.

Not even thirty seconds later, she texted again:

I'm 19 actually. It could be our little secret? Lol I'll be 20 in a few months, if that helps. :)

Now he was getting agitated. Was she trying to set him up or something?

He replied to her one last time:

It doesn't. There's not gonna be any secrets. You're a teenager. I'm a grown man. We're neighbors. Let's keep it that way. Have a good night, Beth.

Thankfully, he didn't hear from her again for the rest of the night. Or the next month.

Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched every time he stepped outside of his apartment.