Kill First, Feel Last ; Daryl Dixon

twenty five: anxiety and heartache

We were lost, no idea on the route back to Alexandria; starvation and dehydration began to overwhelm my being. It had been 2 weeks now of constant movement- 2 weeks of not knowing where we were and 2 whole weeks of the cruel, painful thought of not knowing where Daryl nor the rest of the group were. Were they alive? Back at Alexandria and awaiting our arrival? Were they doing the same thing as us? Waltzing around the wasteland- killing walkers and no clue on where to go? Or worse? Dead, lying in a ditch, in a patch of dirt or eaten by a walker?

An entire 14 days of constant fear and survival really takes a toll on a human body. It messes with their immune system, I had been sick for a week now.

I tried my hardest not to think of those things because in the end- ruling out possibilities only made it worse. Dad was still bruised and cut all over- made it near impossible for him to function. Rick was okay- at least that's what he let on. Me? I was not okay. The nausea swirled unrestrained in my empty stomach. My head swam with half-formed regrets. My heart felt as if my blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. My melancholy mood hung over me like a black cloud, raining my personal sorrow down on me wherever I went. Even the colors of the spring day were drab to me now and the birdsong like so much noise on a child's glockenspiel, grating my nerves. My heartache had rung me out until I was dry inside, no more tears would come. My insides still felt as raw as if a winter wind was blowing right through my skin. The last conversation haunted me, taunted me, replaying like an echo. My appetite had dwindled to nothing. I kept the curtains closed so that I wouldn't have to witness life going on as usual. How could it when my world had crumbled?

I was hunched over a branch of a tree- low enough for me to lean on my knees. My stomach was contracting so violently that I had no time to even think about pulling my hair out of my face. Chunks of what used to be food covered the former green grass as it propelled into the air and onto the ground. I kept heaving and heaving, until I could no longer lean forward. I was feeling weak, though my contents continued pouring out until I felt a pair of hands pulling my hair back -the only thing my body could do was sink to the ground, pulling my knees to my chest.

"You alright?" Rick asked, handing me a flask of water.
"Peachy." I mumbled, taking a sip.
"This is becoming regular, Kaylie." He sounded concerned, almost instantaneously- my head snapped at the realization.

I rotated my head around the trees, and past a sleeping father of mine.
"I don't know.." I sighed. "It could be my anxiety, Rick."
"Could be.." He nodded. "Maybe it isn't? But you need to be sure."

I didn't want to lock eyes. The fact of what Rick was implying, shot nerves through my bodily system. Suddenly, my eyes locked on a certain tree- a red cloth wrapped around the branch.
"No. Way." I jolted up, straight to the tree, removing the red material from it's arms.
"What is it?" Rick asked, following me with a confused expression on his face.
"When..." I sighed. "When I came to drop off Daryl's bike, I tied this around a tree so I didn't get lost once I brought him back to you."
"And?" He chuckled lightly.
"And.." I began. "That means that we are close..."

Rick's head shot up, a smile forming on his face. Almost instantly we sprinted to where my father was resting. I propped onto my knees, and began shaking him violently.
"What?" He mumbled. Once I didn't stop, he shot up yet instantly regretting doing so. "Fucking What?!"

"C'mon." I smiled, kissing him slightly on the forehead. "Let's go home."

I'm back my loves!
I'm so so sorry I have been M.I.A for a while- I have been absolute bed ridden for the past few weeks with pneumonia unfortunately. But I'm better, and feeling 100%!!

To show you all how sorry I am, I will be updating 2 chapters tomorrow morning (Australian time).

Mwah!!