Kill First, Feel Last ; Daryl Dixon

two;; guilt

Guilt. That's what ran through my veins from the moment I had opened my eyes for the last week. A week has past since the indescribable things my father had done, and a week has past since he had captured Daryl.
I rose out of bed, removing my sweats and tank top and changing into a pair of black, ripped denim jeans, a black tank top and some grey combat boots. I tied my hair into a high ponytail and walked out into the corridor only to be greeted my Dwight.
I looked behind him, noticing Daryl chained up, and Dwight pulling him like a dog. Daryl's crystal blue eyes stared into mine with a hint of agony and suffering.

"Has he eaten?" I asked Dwight, walking up the corridor.
"A canned dog food sandwich." He chuckled as he yanked the chain Daryl was connected to, making him fall directly onto his face with a thud.
Dwight's laughter, echoed through the corridor as Daryl struggled to rise to his feet.

"What a turn on.." I scoffed walking past Dwight, and to Daryl. "A fucking asshole." I glared at Dwight before giving Daryl my hand to help him up. He took my hand and mumbled a quiet thanks before standing. I snatched the lead from Dwight and walked Daryl out to the courtyard, Dwight tailing along like a lost puppy.

"News flash, idiot." I turned to Dwight while pulling out a packet of cigarettes. "We're in the zombie apocalypse.. I ain't got any time for low life bullies."

I sat down on the lounge chair, while the sun glared down it's hot rays onto my skin. I pulled out a cigarette from the pack and lit it with a match. I inhaled the chemicals, holding the smoke in for a few seconds before blowing it out. I looked a Daryl who stood beside me and Dwight. "Sit." I ordered, gesturing to the chair beside me. I let go of the leash, allowing him to sit.

"Can I have one?" Dwight asked. I looked in the packet, seeing that I had almost a full packet before shaking my head. "Only got 4 left." I scoffed.

I turned to Daryl, looking at his body language. Hunched over, dirty like a pig and his hair a mess. "Do you smoke, Daryl?"

His head rose, locking his Georgian, crystal blue eyes with mine. He opened his mouth to say something before Dwight cut him off. "Don't speak."

I snapped a glare at Dwight, if only looks could kill. I turned my head back to Daryl. "You can speak when spoken to, Daryl. I'm not an arrogant asshole like this burn victim barbie over here."

I noticed Daryl's mouth twitch into a slight smirk, almost a chuckle before locking eyes with mine again. "Yeah.."

I smiled and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it for him and handing it to him. His eyes beamed with glee, a hint of gratitude. "Thanks."

It's amazing how something so dangerous like cigarettes could be such an exciting thing at a time like this. This man had been eating dog food sandwiches for the past week, has been stripped naked to freeze, and had a picture of his brutally beaten friend stuck on his wall. Daryl deserved something as little as a cigarette.

"You can leave." I turned to Dwight.
"No." he shook his head. "Your dad left me in charge with this idiot."
"This 'idiot' is in perfectly good hands with me. Go suck my dad's dick or something." I scoffed.

Dwight stared at me intently for a few seconds before agreeing and walking away.
"What a pussy." I laughed, inhaling the smoke once again.

"I'm sorry." I turned to Daryl, locking eyes with him once again.
"For wha'?" He questioned, blowing cigarette smoke out of his nose as he spoke.
"For what my dad did to your friends." I sighed. "I'm sure they were good people."
"They were." he nodded. "But you're a good person too."
"Yeah." I sarcastically laughed. "I'm the daughter of a deranged man who kills for gratitude."
"That don't mean you're a bad person..."
"Kaylie." I smiled.
"Ye' a lot damned nicer then most of these men here, Kaylie." He slightly smiled, soon raising his eyebrow. "I think Dwight's scared of ya."