Surviving Negan (BOOK FOUR IN THE SURVIVING THE WALKING DEAD SERIES)

Fault

A/N: The following chapter contains graphic content that may not be ideal for some readers. The chapter can cause triggers in some people, and if you don't think you can read it, I completely understand. I do not condone self mutilation of any way. If you feel like you want to hurt yourself please seek help immediately.

Your life matters.

Suicide hotline: 1800-273-8255
US Suicide Hotline texting: Text HOME to 741741.

DARYL'S POV

     What have I done? I just ruined any chance I had at getting Michaela back, I'd never see her again and it was all my fault. As soon as Michaela left, I wanted to follow them, but Rick said no, that it wasn't the right moment and that we had to trust Michaela. I for one could see straight through her facade, she was terrified. She knows more about what happens at the Saviors' compound, than we do. She has had to have seen or been told some shit that has her scared to the core. She was filthy, smelled terrible, like piss, blood, vomit, and sweat. Of all the time I have known her, she has never let herself get that bad, and she has only been with the Saviors for almost a week. This was done by force.

     I feared they were torturing her, whether physically or mentally I wasn't sure, but you could tell whatever they were doing to her was taking its toll on her. I asked Rick if he knew anything about what was going on, but he refused to tell me, said it was best if I didn't know. I shouldn't have hit him, then Michaela would be home with me, clean, healthy, safe. I had ruined her life with my actions. I hated myself.

     Our bed was lonely at night, I haven't slept much since Michaela's been gone. That empty space on her side of the bed was a constant reminder of what I had caused. Not only for her, but for Glenn. I hated myself for getting Glenn killed, but I knew I could eventually get past that. But Michaela? That was torture. Knowing that she was alive, but not able to see her, hear her, protect her was more than I could bear. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, kiss her, tell her how much she means to me, to tell her I love her. All that would never be possible because, thanks to me, she is married to Negan. God knows what he's gonna do to her. I didn't want to even begin to imagine the torture she has and is about to endure. It's all my fault.

     I sat at the edge of our bed, looking through the photo album she put together of us. The multiple photos of us coming back from a successful hunt, by the fire pit, on patrol of the farm property, us walking down the street of Alexandria, and someone even managed to get a few photos of us when we didn't even realize someone was taking our picture. Michaela petting the cows and pigs, her giving the chicken coop the bird, a picture of her in the dress she wore to Deanna's party, even a picture of us hiding up the tree with the rooster right below us on the ground. Every photo she was smiling, and once in a while, I would be too. She was so happy back then, and now... she looked drained. Drained of all emotions, hope, the will to survive. I ruined her life.

     Tears dripped onto the plastic covered pages as I remembered what it was like before Negan, before The Governor, before the world went to shit. Would she have found me? Would she have loved me? I only hoped so. I couldn't imagine my life without her, without the love of my life. Without Michaela, I'm nothing. I hated myself.

     It should be me who's Negan's prisoner, not Michaela. It should be me he was torturing, me. Not Michaela, me. She had gave her life to save mine not once, but twice. It should've been me. I punched Negan, I took a swing at him, it should be me, not Michaela, me. I ruined her life.

     I went to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I looked into the mirror and whimpered. I hated myself. I was a pathetic excuse for a husband, a pathetic excuse for a life, I couldn't protect her. It's all my fault. I didn't deserve  her, she was too good for me, and now she is married to that sadistic, maniacal bastard. Because of my actions... she is married to Negan. I ruined her life.

     CRASH! I slammed my fist into the mirror, shattering it instantly. I couldn't stand to look at myself anymore. I hated myself. I looked down at my bloodied fist and sobbed. I hated myself. It's all my fault. I ruined her life. Below my hand laid multiple shards of glass. I didn't deserve to live. I took a piece of the mirror into my hand and sat down on the floor of our stand-in shower as scalding hot water cascaded down my body. I ruined her life. It's all my fault. I hated myself. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

     "Daryl?" Rick's voice called to me. "Daryl, are ya alright?" I didn't respond. I didn't deserve to live. "Daryl, I know this is hard on ya, it's hard on me too, on all of us." I pressed the shard of glass hard against my wrist. "Daryl, please talk to me." I hated myself. It's all my fault. I ruined her life.... I don't deserve to live. SLICE! Blood steadily poured from my wrist as I placed it under the running water. The water on the floor quickly turned crimson red. I let out a slight whimper, knowing that I'd soon be rid of this pain I felt inside.

     BANG! BANG! BANG! "Daryl." Rick called out to me frantically. "Daryl?" I let out a subtle whimper. It's all my fault. I ruined her life. I didn't deserve to live. BANG! BANG! BANG! Rick knocked harder. "Daryl, what are ya doin' in there?" Rick frantically jiggled the doorknob. "DARYL, OPEN THE DOOR!" BANG! BANG! BANG!  "OPEN THE FUCKIN' DOOR, DARYL!" The room slowly started to fade into darkness. CRASH! Rick kicked the door in.

    "OH, GOD, NO! NO, NO, NO! DARYL!" Rick grabbed me by my shoulders and lifted me forward. "DARYL, WAKE UP! WAKE UP! C'MON, STAY WITH ME, DARYL!" Rick lifted my arm above my head and quickly began to tie a tourniquet around it with his belt. "GODDAMN IT, DARYL, DON'T DO THIS TO ME! C'MON, BROTHER, STAY WITH ME! DARYL!" The sound of his voice trailed further and further away as the room faded with it. "DARYL!"