The sky had become a dark gray, clouds flooding which once was a beautiful blue sky. I stopped to lean against a tree, a few tears still trailing down my face. He should've came with me. I should've dragged his ass over that barricade with me. If I did that, he wouldn't be dead. He'd be here with me right now, right by my side. A soft rumble of thunder sounded above me. I gazed up at the sky. A drop of water fell on my face. I let it roll off like I did my tears.

"Aften," I heard a voice call out. I stayed put, ignoring it. I was just hearing things. "Aften," it called again. I began to panic. Was someone here in the woods with me? I frantically turned around in place, seeing no one there. I peered up at the tree behind me. The first large branch wasn't too high up. I began to climb up it, struggling to get started in the first place; my leg throbbed with pain. I hauled myself up to the branch, sitting down on it so I was up and away from everything lurking on the ground. The light sprinkle of rain dripped through the leaves and onto me. I shivered at the coldness of it. My elbow bumped something hard. I glanced over to a hole in the tree. A shiny red lockbox sat inside, half buried in damp leaves. I shakily pried it open, uncovering a small handgun. I ran my fingers over it as I took it into my hands.

A gunshot rang out through the trees, frightening me. A group of men trudged their way through the mud, my dad in the middle of the pack. My eyes went wide as I saw all the firepower they had with them. My hand tightened around the gun. My heart skipped a beat as they all stopped in front of me, looking around for any movement. I raised my gun, aiming it at my dad's head. I tried to hold it still, but my hand trembled. Martinez scanned the trees, his eyes falling on me. He raised his gun the tiniest bit in defense. My chest frantically heaved up and down as I stared at him with pleading eyes. He carried on and pretended like he never noticed.

"Nothing," Martinez sighed, lowering his gun.

"Are you guys fucking blind," my dad snarled. My finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire. My heart pounded as I imagined myself missing him, his men shooting me all at once. I couldn't do it. I couldn't shoot him, not here. My dad stood in silence until he ripped Martinez's gun out of his hands. "That's it," he yelled, shooting up into the trees. A hand flew over my mouth. I panicked, trying to pry it off me.

"Shhh," someone whispered in my ear. My mind swirled around in a frenzy, my eyesight slightly blurring from all the draining chaos. My dad stopped and stared at the tree I was in, firing a shot into it. The bullet pierced the skin of my left arm. I screamed into the hand, unable to feel the pain. Was I hallucinating? Was this shot even real? Everything was quiet which angered my dad. He stomped ahead, screaming and cussing with his men following after him.

I tried to cover the hole to stop the thick red blood from escaping it, but it started to sting ferociously. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out a whimper while tears streaked down my face; the hand had suddenly disappeared once the group did. I wiped my blood covered fingertips on my pants before bracing myself to climb down the tree; it was either that or I would end up falling out. I raised my arm to lower myself down the trunk, hollering out at the white hot heat that seared through my bones.

This was reality.

I slipped, falling straight onto my back. I wheezed, my breath escaping me for a brief moment. I closed my eyes, tears slipping through the corners of them. I let the rain fall on me, soaking me to the skin. I stared up at the sky, gray and dark. It swirled above me like the waves of an ocean. I was gonna die. I was gonna die in the middle of the woods all alone just from being shot in the arm. My breath was quiet, my eyes fixed on the swirling nature around me. I was completely still.

"Hey," a cloudy voice shouted. I felt like I was underwater, slowly sinking to the ocean floor. My body tingled, but my arm went numb. "Hey," it hollered again. I blinked hard, trying to keep myself awake. Daryl's blurry face hovered over me. His hands were touching me, trying to stop the bleeding. "Aften!" I shifted my gaze to him, feeling like I was unable to talk. He tied a piece of his shirt around the hole, blood quickly soaking through the fabric. "What happened?"

"Him," I whispered, my tongue feeling heavy like the rest of my body.

"Who," he asked. My eyes flickered back and forth as I frantically looked between the sudden appearance of translucent bodies hanging in the trees. My eyes widened in horror as my breath quickened. He turned his head to see what I was looking at. He noticed nothing was there and began to pick me up. "We gotta go," he muttered. My dead weight hauled him down, almost dropping me. "C'mon," he encouraged me softly. "C'mon." I tried to help him, lazily kicking my legs out to get myself to stand up. He lifted me off the ground, my blood smearing all over his shirt. It hit me again like a train: Merle was dead.

"Leave me," I muttered. Daryl gazed down at me in confusion. "Leave me," I repeated, my eyes drooping closed. "He's gone, just leave me too. They're gonna come back and find you."

"Nah," Daryl grunted as he carried me through the woods. I laid in his arms, my head resting against his chest. I blacked out while the blood continued to flow from my wound. My face was cold and pale. Daryl entered the prison with me, setting me down on one of the tables. "Someone go get somethin'," he hollered with urgency. "Don't just fuckin' stand there!" Feet scuffled around me, my eyes still closed. My mind was plagued with fuzz, nothingness.

"This a bullet wound," an old voice questioned, unwrapping Daryl's shirt bandage around my arm. Daryl must've nodded. I heard something clunk down onto the table, cold metal soon meeting my burning hot skin. A searing pain skyrocketed through me. I wailed out in pain, squirming around to try and escape the hurt. "Someone hold her down," the old voice ordered. A pair of hands clamped down on my legs, another on my hands. "Make sure she doesn't move again." The pain then numbed all of my senses, causing me to lose consciousness. I had no recollection of what occurred besides feeling pain.

It was more than 10 minutes after they'd finished before I finally came to. I could feel I was lying on a bed. I didn't wanna open my eyes; my eyelids felt like bricks on my face.

"Said somethin' 'bout leavin' her out there," I could hear Daryl mumble in disbelief from outside the doorway.

"She lost a lot of blood. That shit messes you up," Carol stated. "You know she wouldn't have said that if she didn't lose that much." There was a short pause as she pondered a hunch that swirled around in her brain. "I know you care about her, Daryl. It's okay to admit it. I think it's sweet."

"No," he immediately spat. "I don't give a shit 'bout her. She's trouble. Just look at her, she's a bomb waitin' to explode and I don't want that blood on my hands. Already gone through too much with that girl." Carol turned her head to look at me on the bed, pale and still as I slept.

"I see someone who's fighting for their life in more ways than one," she sighed before addressing him again. "You never would've brought her back here if you didn't care. Seems to me that you're afraid of your own feelings."

"I ain't afraid of nothin'." Daryl's voice sounded weak yet venomous.

"I know you all too well, Dixon," Carol challenged, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're lying through your teeth." Daryl scoffed before he stomped away, annoyed and pissed off.