Cw: Blood, mention of abuse, character's death.
A/N: My fault if this is short and rush, can you tell my brain is ready to default?

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You're correct if you're thinking about that I've never get any sleep that night, I usually would go to sleep quicker than a blink of an eye, but now I couldn't—It reminds me of the day where Daryl's father alcoholic outburst were taken out on Daryl while I hide under a couch and watch the scenes unfold, I was too scared that night to go to sleep.

So, I sat up and headed over to the tent, luckily the tent wasn't zipped up. When I walked inside Daryl was asleep, I lay down and crawled towards him—I nudged his arm, thankfully he lifted his arm and rested it on my neck.

The next morning, I headed outside stretching my limbs with yawn like that of a puppy. I see T-dog, Shane and Daryl load up the back of an SUV, I trotted over a large bowl filled with water as I lap it up, my eyes met Daryl who took a swig from a canteen—By judging his body expression he's still angry.

If I've learned anything with being with Daryl; Is that he'll stay angry for about twenty to forty-eight hours. A red van comes blazing down the driveway. It creaks to a stop, while Lori and Carl walk towards it hand-in-hand. When Rick jumped out Carl got out of his mother's grasp and into his father's awaiting arms along with Lori —Meanwhile Hershel and Glenn got out with Maggie to seemingly run to her father's arms.

I lied. Glenn's arms.

Hershel walks forward with a gun-in-hand, "Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery." He tells her.

I wonder who needed surgery? The others seemed fine.

T-Dog points out something, well someone. "Who the hell is that?" He questions, raising a finger to somebody in the back of the car. I hopped on my hind legs and peered through the window to see a young man around Glenn's age, maybe a little bit younger—He has shaggy black hair and a red blindfold over his eyes, he's unconscious by the look of his head. "That's Randall." Glenn replies.

Welp ... .great.

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I sat outside the front porch of the farmhouse while the other's head inside to debate what to do with the kid. I watched Daryl come towards me with something in his hand, it looked like a leather ball that's been well chewed out.

The archer sat down beside me, "Found somethin'." He showed me the ball. He tossed in the air and caught it with his palm, "Thought you might wan' it, since ya clearly bored around 'ere."

Bored? With you?

I gave him a smile as I teasingly pushed his side. I managed to get his goofiest smile that I always love out of him as I grabbed the ball from his hand and gave it a good chew. He grabbed the ball from my mouth, not giving a shit that it's covered in drool now—He tossed the ball and I immediately went to catch it, I grabbed it and brought it back to Daryl. We did this a second time, I've started to become tired when I brought the ball back to Daryl

I look to see Snowy walking towards us, he wags his tail in greeting us. Daryl then stood up, "Alrigh', 'm gonna head inside." As soon as he opens the door he tells, "No screwin' each other, I ain't havin' puppies." He headed inside with the door closed.

We both chuckle at that.

"Is that my ball?" Snowy asks.

I dropped that ball that landed on the porch with a thud, "Possibly."

◤──•❉🏹❉•──◥

The next day me and Daryl interrogate Randall with a series of biting and punching, the kid will whimper in pain from time to time. Well punching and being bitten are not pleasant.

"I told you—" Randall weakly says before getting cut off with a sucker punch to the face.

"You told me shit!" Daryl seethes while giving another punch.

"I barely knew those guys. I met 'em on the road." Randal pleads between sobs. I just sink my teeth deeper into his skin, making his wail in pain.

"How many in your group?" Daryl spat out.

When the kid didn't respond, I just simply bit more into his skin. "How many?!" Daryl yells.

"Uh, thirty. Thirty. Thirty guys." The kid rushes out. Now was that so hard?

"Where?" Daryl sternly questions.

Randall didn't say a thing, until I tore a small chunk of his leg off, that got him to scream in pain. "I don't know—I swear! We were never anyplace more than a night!" He shouts through gritted teeth.

"Scouting? Planning on staying local?" Daryl interrogates.

"Did you ever pick off a scab?" Daryl starts while the kid pleas, "Start real slow at first. Sooner or later, you've just gotta rip it off." He finishes his threat.

"They have weapons— heavy stuff, automatics. But I didn't do anything!" Randall stammers out.

"Your boys shot at my boys, tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You're trying to tell me you're innocent?" Daryl growls out. I won't lie, that was hot.

"Yes!" Randall confessed. "These— these people took me in. Not just guys— a whole group of 'em. Men and women, kids too— just like you people. Thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know? But, we got out, scavenge— just the men. One night we— we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters— teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute."

Disgusting.

In response I clawed at his wound.

"Their daddy had to watch while these guys— they— and they didn't even kill him afterwards. They just— they just mad him watch as his daughters— they just-just— just left him there." Daryl's face slowly screws to anger.

"No, but-but— but I didn't touch those girls. No, I swear I didn't to—" Daryl cuts him off with blow after blow.

I've never seen Daryl this pissed off before, but I know that it's because this group was basically a second family to us; They took us in and in return we aid them.

We've left the farm and headed back to camp, "Boy there's got a gang, thirty men." Daryl explains. "They have heavy artillery and they ain't looking to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna— they're gonna wish they were."

"What did you do?" Carol asks. Eyeing his bloodied knuckles.

Daryl glances down to his bloodied knuckles, "Had a little chat." He shuffles before leaving with me following close behind.

◤──•❉🏹❉•──◥

At our camp, I shuffle around with pieces of cloth to make myself comfortable before laying down and gnawing at a bone I found. Soon enough Dale walks towards the camp, Daryl scoffs, "The whole point of me coming up here is to get away from you people."

"Gone take more than that." Dale says.

"Carol send you?" Daryl asks, still not looking at him.

"Carol's not the only one that's concerned about you, your new role in the group." Dale responds.

"Oh man, I don't need my head shrunk. This group's broken. I'm better off fending for myself." Daryl says while reaching over to grab his vest and put it on.

"You act like you don't care." Dale says, surprise in his voice. Because we don't.

"Yeah, it's 'cause I don't." He shrugs.

"So live or die, you don't care what happens to Randal?" Dale asks. We just don't care, Dale.

"Nope." Daryl and I said in unison.

"Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid's life, if it really doesn't matter one way or the other?" Dale questions.

"Man, ain't nobody looking at me for nothing, except for Nyla and that's it." He leans down and grabs his crossbow.

"Carol is, and I am. Right now. And you obviously— you have Rick's ear." Daryl starts to walk in the direction of the forest with a whistle as I join him.

"Rick just looks to Shane. Let him." Daryl tells him.

"You cared about what happened to Sofia," Daryl and I stopped in our tracks away from him. Ah shit, shouldn't have said that. "Cared what it meant for the group. Torturing people? That isn't you. You're a decent man. So is Rick. Shane— he's different."

Daryl turns to look at Dale, "Why's that? 'cause he killed Otis?"

"He tell you that?" Dale says, his mood instantly changes grim.

"He told some story— how Otis covered him, saved his ass. He showed up with the dead guy's gun. Rick ain't stupid. If he didn't figure that out, it's 'cause he didn't wanna. It's like I said— group's broken." We then headed towards the woods to hunt.

◤──•❉🏹❉•──◥

After hunting and the group decisions on how to handle Randall, Dale still didn't want the others to kill the kid, but the others didn't listen. Nightfall has fallen at the farm when I headed out with Rick, Daryl and Shane to handle Randall.

We've headed inside where the kid was blindfolded, Shane grabs the kid and pushes him up, "This will all be over soon." Shane says while shushing him. The kid only panicked even more than before.

I stood a yard away from the boys, Rick then pulled out his pistol "Would you like to stand or kneel?" He asks.

The kid cries out more, ""Oh no, please." Before he can cry anymore, Daryl steps forward and kicks the back of his knee and forces him into his knees.

"Do you have any final words?" Rick asks, while still trying to keep his voice even. The kid only sobs in return while pleading for his life. I felt guilty about what's gonna happen, Dale's right about he's just a kid.

Rick aims his Python Pistol at the sobbing kid, and pulls back the hammer. "Do it, Dad." I turn my head to see Carl standing by the open barn door. Well shit. "Do it." Shane walks over and grab Carl by his arm and walks him out of the barn.

I notice Rick starting to struggle to do the deed until he clicks the hammer in place, he lowers the pistol back into his holster. "Take him away. Take him away." His voice is slightly broken.

Daryl grabs the kid by his shirt, "Get up." Shane angrily shoves the barn door while Daryl pushes and shoves the kid back to the direction of the shed.

When we arrived at the barn, Daryl turned on the lantern and proceeded to tie up the ceiling, and then gagged him so he wouldn't speak.

Suddenly we heard shouting, I Immediately booked it with Daryl right behind me while shouting my name, heading towards the field where I see a walker, hunched over a person, I tackle the walker and sink my teeth into its head, it's blood splaying on my muzzle.

I vomit out everything, along with my dinner.

I turn my head to see a shocked Dale with his stomach ripped open. Oh God no.

Daryl arrived next to me, "Help! Over here!" Daryl yells out.

The other's arrived to see what just happened. I didn't know what the hell was happening but I heard ringing in my ears and muffled voices—I lay on my side, every sound mixed together with shouting, crying and Dale's cries.

I look to see Daryl aiming his gun at Dale's head, with a click of a hammer he mutters out, "Sorry, brother." He shot him.

His eyes fixed on me, the eyes of weariness. "Nyla? Nyla!' He fall in front of me. "Wha's wrong?"

I let out a whine before passing out.