CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE,
devastation

DEVASTATION SLITHERED AROUND the group and draped over the survivors like a large, invisible blanket. The gunshot still lingered in Samantha Walsh's ears, blending with broken sobs that belonged to the childless mother. Tears slipped pass her cheeks as her eyes never left the corpse of the light girl.

It simply wasn't fair, she didn't deserve that. She was abused, scared, and killed. Sophia didn't deserve to be taken away like that, ripped from her mother's arms. If she had the chance, she would trade places with her - because Sophia deserved life possibly more than Samantha. She deserved that chance.

Her gaze trailed to her silent brother, who never let his leave the girl. Shane had an expression full of many raw emotions, but Samantha wanted to smack it right off of his face. He had been the ringmaster of this, the trigger to the explosion of chaos - yet he couldn't find it in himself to pull the trigger? To end what he started so violently?

When did he become so cowardly?

"Don't look! Don't look!" Daryl kept chanting as he lifted a distraught Carol from the ground. Samatha turned in time to see her snatch out of his hold, stalking away.

Nobody tried to stop her, nobody said anything, not even when a sobbing Beth ran to one of the bodies, and a harsh realization punched her in the gut when she saw that it was her mother - one of the walkers she shot.

Suddenly, the walker reanimated and grabbed the teen, this causing Samantha to rush forward into action, Maggie Greene not too far behind as well as the rest of the group. They all tried pulling the teen away, not thinking logically but only thinking that they had to get her away.

A gunshot rang out and blood splattered against a screaming Beth, her mother instantly going limp. Heads turned and found Nathan standing several feet away from the group, his gun raised and his eyes as cold as ice with a face as hard as stone.

He met his best friend's sad eyes and marched away.

━━━━━

Nathan Barton couldn't breathe.

His emotions were putting him under water as he ripped through cabinets, searching under sinks, checking every inch of the kitchen in search for alcohol - something to numb him, to make him forget what had just transpired.

Everyone was out at the funeral, but just - he refused. Nathan couldn't see her grave while knowing she was in there because of him, he couldn't see Carol's teary, resentful gaze, he couldn't stand another funeral.

The only thing that would make him not feel, he couldn't find - and maybe that was his punishment.

"Look, I'm gonna go help Rick, but I need you to stay here."

Nathan stopped midway searching through a cabin, his throat clogging up and his mind submerging under water.

"If me or Rick don't make it back, I want you to go back to the highway. Keep the sun on your left shoulder - that's your only way back, okay?"

He bit down on his lip so hard he could taste the metallic taste of blood, self hatred and anger boiling the blood in his veins.

"You're a brave man-"

Nathan slammed the cabinet door shut and the sound of dishes crashing together met his ears. His hands were placed on his face, trying to contain the damage from spreading again.

"Nathan?"

The soldier removed his hands from his face and saw Hershel Greene standing there, the whites of his eyes red. The sight of him made Nathan feel more guilt, but then his eyes trailed down to the keys in his hands and he rose a brow. "Are you going somewhere?" He questioned.

"Nathan-"

"You are," He breathed. "Can I go with you? I need to get away from this group, I-I feel like I'm going insane," Nathan reasoned, and seeing the hesitation lurking in the elders grieving eyes he continued, "Look, man, what happened out there was terrible, and I take complete responsibility. I'm so sorry, Shane got to my head."

Hershel gazed at him with a hint of pity. "Hatlains. I'm going to Hatlains."

Nathan assumed that was a bar in town. "Sounds good to me."

"But I prefer to drink alone-"

"You're also not in the right mental state to be driving alone either," Nate interjected. "And you run your mouth too much for a man that's not supposed to be drinking under the eyes of God."

Hershel opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it.

"We're on the same page," Nate said, taking the keys. "Be glad I'm driving you to get shit faced drunk during the apocalypse."

Hershel opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. "Glad we're on the same page," Nathan continued, taking the keys. "Be glad I'm driving you to get shit faced drunk during the apocalypse."

The old vet didn't argue with the soldier. The two were going through a vibration of emotions, and wanting nothing but to not succumb to being humans - so they both ventured out to town.

Nathan was very familiar with alcohol, very familiar with not wanting to remember or to feel. The tonic was always his solution, and it hasn't failed him yet. The two didn't speak for awhile, letting the substances burn down their throats and into their stomachs. The soldier was fiddling with his silver cross, licking his already wet lips. "You wanna know something?" asked the brunette, chuckling dryly to himself. "Out of a family of atheists, I'm the only believer."

"Way's that?" Hershel questioned silently.

"I don't know to be honest," Nathan admitted softly. "I guess I wanted purpose, hope during the dark age I was going through."

"Don't we all." The elder mumbled.

Nathan stared at him for a few moments, taking a sip from the alcohol and letting it settle in his stomach. "Who was it?" The soldier inquired, the older man giving him a quizzical look."In the barn - who was it that you cared about?"

"My wife and stepson," Hershel informed, downing a shot of the whiskey Nathan had poured for him earlier. "Your people weren't the first to ask for my help. On the first day, this family asked to sleep in my barn, so I let them. Seemed like decent folk. Came all the way from Florida. That night my stepson brought this man and this little girl with him too."

"What happened to them?"

"Don't know. I kicked them off my land the next day," Hershel stared at his empty glass, frowning. "Shawn was fixing the gates when those things got him and I..."

Nathan poured more whiskey into the old man's glass, as if saying just drink to forget and had some of his own. He started to feel the effects of the alcohol in his veins, and could picture his liver screaming in agony.
He thought of Sophia, that innocent girl that he had failed, his dark mind clouded with his intoxication. "That little girl wouldn't be dead if it weren't for me," Nathan sighed, leaning against the counter. They were on opposite sides. "Sophia, that's her name. S-she thought I was brave because of these," He pointed to his dog tags with an angry frown. "She wouldn't like me if she knew that I killed her, or the other people I killed."

"You killed people?" Hershel's words were beginning to slur, the poison from his glass finally taking its toll.

Nathan rubbed at his eyes furiously. "I'm a very bad, bad man. I've killed, and a-abandoned, and," Nathan stopped and took a long sip of his whiskey. "Did you know that I see dead people?"

"I see them too."

"I see all of the people I've killed, including my baby brother - I left him for dead," continued Nathan. "He always looked up to me, despite o-our mother telling him how much of a disappointment I was, telling him I-I was a bad influence. He joined the Army because of me, and he died because of me, isn't that ironic?"

"Very."

Nathan didn't process that Hershel wasn't listening. He leaned against the bottle of alcohol, gazing at the elder with squinted eyes."If you grew a beard, you would look like Santa Claus," A smirk pulled his lips. "My momma used to tell me you aren't real. Am I on the naughty or nice list, Santy Claus?"When Hershel didn't answer, looking completely indifferent to everything around him, Nathan giggled. "I've been a very bad boy, so I guess the naughty list."

Nathan turned away from the elder with the bottle, staring into the mirror at the bar. He saw that stranger there again, but that's when he remembered who it was and he glared at him. "You see that, Hershel?" Nathan pointed at the mirror with repulsion. "He wears my skin, and he's trying too hard to look like me, but that can't be me because I know me. You know what I mean?" The old vet didn't answer. Nathan walked closer to the mirror, his grey eyes lighting with realization. "Monsters wearing human skin - maybe that is me. Does that make me one of those things? Am I the virus?"

Yes A voice hissed in his head.

"Shut up!" Nathan shrilled and hit the side of his head, gripping his hair until he yelped out at the pain he was inflicting on himself. He caught sight of himself in the mirror - but he saw those familiar, hazel eyes.

Nathan whirled around and back towards the bar, finding him to be sitting at one of the tables - except this time he looked different. His combat uniform wasn't stained with war, his dark hair clean and dirt less, his face young with no skin missing. Jason looked alive. He looked like himself before he was sent to die.

Nate blinked, his mouth agape, and he stumbled in front of Hershel with his shaky hand outstretched. Do you s-see him?" Nate questioned, pointing. Hershel followed his finger and went back to his drink.

"No, sir."

His baby brother smiled at him, revealing his pearly whites. It was a mocking smile, as if he were saying yes, you are crazy and he held up a glass of alcohol, raising it. Nate did the only thing he thought he could do; he raised his bottle of whiskey, feeling his muscles shake, his eyes begin to burn from the intoxication and tears.

And then he brought it to his lips, wanting to get shit faced drunk.

━━━━━

Samantha had been the one to comfort Carol after the funeral, sobbing every raw emotion that kept her soul alive through her furnace of grief. She continued until there was nothing left but a few stranded tears on her cheeks.

You know that feeling whenever you cry for so long, you feel empty? Like you've ran out of tears and you can't help but just sit there, your mind going elsewhere? That's Carol right now.

The young woman was running her fingers through the short grays of the mother's hair, a deep frown on her lips. "I'm not going to tell you the pain is going to stop," Samantha started, her arms and shirt wet from all the tears. "Pain demands to be felt - but no matter how bad that pain is, it's going to make you stronger."

Carol's body trembled. "How do you know?" She whispered, her voice completely strained.

Samantha nibbled on her lip, looking down at the broken mother. She knew that look, the ultimate loss of losing something you carried in your wound - a life that was supposed to be yours to nurture but ripped away. Nobody knew the tragedy of what befell the young woman when she was a teenager, not even her brother, not even the man who had caused it. Nobody would ever know, except Carol Peletier, because Samantha needed to unbury that secret in order to comfort her, and she is very willing to open up that door to do so.

"Even when I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a mother," Samantha begun quietly, her voice only heard by that of Carol. "To have something love me and look up to me as if I am their whole world, and I got my wish - but I was still a child myself, seventeen," The mother had lifted her body up and was staring at the young woman, who's eyes were filled with sadness and a deep pain that she had been bottling up for years. "I fell in love, and he was kinda like Ed, both had issues and both used their issues on women,"

Memories flooded back, but she had expected that this would open the gates. She could feel the pain clenching her heart and insides.

She rubbed her head, trying to shake off the horrible feeling that her past brought.

"I went from a wild teen to a timid one, scared of my own shadows when I was with him," Samantha continued. "I wanted to help him because he was so broken - so I let him take everything from me; my dignity, my spirit, my strength, and soon it was my baby," Her breath wavered and for a second, she thought she was going to start crying, but luckily she didn't. "Nobody knows, not him, not Shane, not anybody. You're the only one that knows, and I'm going to keep it that way."

Carol squeezed her hand, no signs of pity on her features - but understanding. "How did you move on?" She questioned, fresh tears in eyes. Samantha was sure she could feel her own, cascading down her cheeks, her pain and sorrow coming in forms of salty tear drops.

"You don't really move on, not really," Samantha smiled then. It was bittersweet. "It doesn't have to make you weak. The pain can be your strength."

With her motherly instincts kicking in, Carol wrapped her arms around the young woman and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Thank you." She whispered, and finally Samantha hugged back, wondering if this is what a mother's hug feels like. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long sigh, shoving all the trauma and all the memories behind that door and boarding it up - hoping that it wouldn't be opened again.

But another door did.

The RV entrance was opened and their moment of peace was interrupted by both Shane and Rick. Samantha pulled away and peered at them through furrowed brows. "What's going on?" She asked.

"It's Hershel. He's gone."

━━━━━

"Nathan," The voice was gentle, the bottle of alcohol slowly being pulled from his grasp. "Are you okay?" The soldier groaned, and looking through the pounding headache that throbbed his head, he saw that it was Rick Grimes.

"Are you," Nathan paused, clutching his head. "Are you dead, too?" Rick shook his head, his action making the brunette sigh in relief.

Glenn Rhee was behind him, sympathy crossing his features at the sight of the defeated soldier. "How many you had?" Rick directed his words to the elder.

"Not enough as that guy."

Rick and Glenn exchanged looks, before the cop stepped forward. "Beth collapsed, "Something in Hershel paused. "Is in some sort of state. Must be in shock. I think you are too."

"Maggie's with her?" The older man glanced over his shoulder. The cop nodded, "Yeah, but Beth needs you." Rick stated.

"What could I do? She needs her mother," Sorrow filled Hershel's hazy eyes. "Or rather to mourn. Like she should've done weeks ago. I robbed her of that, I see that now."

Rick glanced at Nathan, who during the whole conversation was taking long sips from the bottle of alcohol, his stare far off. Rick had promised Samantha to take care of him, and he would keep that promise to her."You thought there was a cure. Can't blame yourself for holding for hope." He spoke, turning back to Hershel.

"Hope?" The vet repeated, a faint smile on his lips. "When I first saw that girl running across the field with your little boy in her arms, I had a little hope he would survive."

"But he did."

"He did," The elder agreed, his face falling solemnly. "Even though we lost Otis," Guilt punched him in the gut as Nathan froze at the name. He felt as if his name would allow him to walk through those doors just like his brother, and the thought made his stomach twist in horror. "Your men Shane and Nathan made it back and saved your boy," The old man was looking upward with blue eyes full of memories. "That was the miracle that proved miracles do exist. Only it was a sham, a bait and switch."

Silence filled the bar and intertwined with Hershel's grief. "I was a fool and your people saw that," He stated sadly. "My daughters deserve better than that."

━━━━━

The sun was starting to set and casting light through the windows of the kitchen. Lori Grimes leaned against the counter with Samantha across from her.

They didn't say much, only watching through the windows and waiting for their loved ones to come back. The mother's eyes were clouded with contemplation - Samantha knowing exactly what's she thinking, and she's the one that has to restrain the woman from doing anything.

"I know that look." Samantha spoke, breaking through the barriers of silence and staring at the wife with a knowing gaze.

Lori turned to her. "Someone's going to have to go get him." She insisted.

"Rick can handle it, he's fine," She reasoned, pushing back her own worries for the people she cared about. "They'll be back."

"Me and you both know that anything can happen to them. Everything is unpredictable in a world like this."

"I understand, but you're pregnant-"

"Shush!" She hissed, glancing around frantically. Samantha quirked a brow.

"So even after you decide to keep the baby you're keeping it a secret?" She questioned, placing her hands on her hips. Lori looked away from her, her brown eyes back to the windows. "Its complicated."

"Does my brother even know?" Samantha pressed, catching the role of the wife's eyes. "Lori, he needs to know-"

"He knows," Lori promised, a layer of annoyance in her tone. "Rick told him. If it were my choice, I wouldn't have told him in the first place."

"Why, Lori, why?"

"Because if you haven't noticed, Shane is becoming a little unstable," She snapped at her, her abrupt attitude causing Samantha to frown. Lori inhaled sharply. "I've seen it, and I'm pretty sure you've seen it too. He might be your brother, but that doesn't make him immune to doing bad things. He's not the same Shane as before."

Samantha opened her mouth to defend her brother, but she was like a gaping fish, unable to find the argument against Lori's words. She knew she couldn't keep denying the truth when it was hanging right in front of her face - but Shane is her brother, she's supposed to protect him and defend him. But she couldn't read him anymore, his mannerisms more erratic and his eyes completely unreadable. It was as if Shane was blocking everything from coming to surface because he knew Samantha would be able to read him so easily.

"Do you think he killed Otis?" Samantha questioned, bringing her voice down to a whisper. "Him and Nate?"

Lori stared at the twenty year old for a few moments, trying to decide the answer for herself as well. "I believe anything is possible with the things I've seen," She finally revealed, frowning. "I wouldn't be surprised if they did."

After that they were both silent, and by the looks of it, Lori continued to plan on how she was going to get her husband - but Samantha couldn't let that happen. So before she could do anything, she went to go confront her options.

She approached his little isolated camp away from the others. He was bent over a campfire, trying to create a spark. "Daryl?" She saw his back tense, but he didn't answer her call. "Daryl Dixon."

The hunter stopped, turning to look at Samantha with anger roaring from within him and resurfacing to his face. "What do you want?"

"I need your help," Samantha stated. "Rick is still out there, and they could get into trouble-"

"Nah, man, I'm done with being you peoples errand boy." He snapped, his harsh attitude staggering the young woman.

"Daryl, you aren't an errand boy."

"The hell I'm not!" He belted, springing up from his kneeling position. "You people didn't give a shit that I almost killed myself lookin' for that girl! And now that she's gone, I still keep gettin' shit on!"

She swallowed back built up saliva. "Daryl, that's not true-"

"What do you want from me?" He demanded. "Why do ya keep pushin' yourself into my life?"

Samantha frowned, sadden they were back to this - or maybe they were always on this, maybe she took it for granted. "Because I care."

"Why?" He thundered, his face coloring with red. "I ain't some broken thing for you to fix, I ain't some pity case for you to solve."

Daryl was definitely broken, but he wasn't defeated. Samantha was smart enough to acknowledge that. "You know that's not the reason." She protested.

"You don't know nothin' about me," Daryl hissed, his words like knives and stabbing into her heart. "You don't know the shit that I've done, the person I am. If you knew, sweetheart, I'm sure you would think I ain't nothin' but redneck trash!"

Tears blurred her vision, but she kept her ground and stepped towards him - but he stepped away from her. "I know that you're good, because out of everyone you almost killed yourself looking for Sophia! You saved me twice," Her cheeks were wet and she reached for him, but any human contact made him flinch away. "You deserve a friend, Daryl. You deserve-"

Daryl stomped towards her and got into her face, his face twisted up into a snarl. "You think we gonna make friendship bracelets together? We gonna ride off into the sunset?" He leaned down to look into her eyes, his own blue ones cold and unwelcoming. "I don't need friends, I don't need people, nor do I need you. You are nothin' but a stupid, reckless bitch - I don't like you, don't you get it, missy?"

Her mouth fell open, her heart slowly falling to her stomach and breaking. She remembered Casey said word things, did worse things. Daryl Dixon is definitely not him. "You don't...thats not true!"

Daryl scoffed and turned his back to her, but Samantha wasn't going to give up on him. "Daryl," She pleaded, reached forward to touch his arm, "Don't ignore me-"

"Don't touch me!" Daryl suddenly jabbed his elbow into her stomach, a large pain filling her as the air was knocked out of my lungs, and she fell to the ground. The redneck turned to look a look at her, shock curling from his insides but he made no effort to help the girl up.

The pain continued, a reminder that a bruise will flaw her stomach with purple. She pulled herself from the ground, dirt sticking to her ripped jeans and clinging to her hair. Samantha looked back at Daryl, and the mere sight of him made anger fume in her chest.

"You wanna act like a prick? You wanna act like you don't give a shit? Be my guest," She stormed, the twig that her temper was slowly bending and about to snap. "But just because your home life was shitty, doesn't give you the right to treat others like absolute dog shit. It's bullshit!"

His face was mean and cold- but inside his heart was pounding as guilt pumped into his veins. Samantha couldn't stare at him much longer, embarrassment intertwining with her anger, and she knew that if she continued to stay there - she would do something regrettable.

If he wouldn't help her, she would help herself.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟnote

my babies didn't deserve that, but with the slow burn comes the fights and the obstacles

words ; 4052
edited ; ✔️