You woke up from the best sleep you'd had in years. The weight of a strong arm was thrown around you and it took a few seconds of silent fear before you remembered the day before. Bram was dead, which was a plus; however, so was most everyone else.

You still couldn't wrap your head around what Daryl had told you about the dead walking. It was something straight from a horror film and you struggled with the thought that you may have had it easy these past few years compared to the people on the outside.

You were drawn out of your thoughts at the feeling of his arms pulling you closer, heart fluttering at your proximity. You swear he looked 10 years younger in sleep, expression so peaceful. The man who saved you was already becoming the center of your thoughts. Not only was he strong, but also kind and compassionate. As far as people who could've found you, Daryl was the jackpot.

His nose scrunched as he stifled a yawn, slowly opening his ocean eyes and blushing once he realized what position you were both in. It didn't take him long to pull away and sit up, reaching for his vest and standing. You hadn't even realized the angel wings on his back and chuckled to yourself at how you had called him your angel the night before.

"Get your things. Gonna check the house, see what we can find." He muttered, seeming short and to the point before leaving the room.

You looked around, not finding anything you'd want to keep and shot to your feet, rushing after him. He seemed to have poked around the other rooms which you had never seen and came back empty handed.

"Bram never kept important things down here. Just me," your eyes met his with sorrow, fighting the tears that threatened to rise.

Daryl paced closer, hovering inches in front of you. "S'wrong. Kept the most important thing locked away."

Your stomach filled with butterflies at the intensity of his gaze and you blushed furiously. "Whatever you say Daryl."

He looked like he wanted to say something else but shook his head, pushing past you. "C'mon. You stay behind me no matter what. We go for the house and don't stop til' you're inside."

Fear began to fill your body but you nodded, putting your trust in him. You followed close behind, eyeing the ladder that led to freedom with cautious eyes. Daryl went first, pushing the lid open and sticking his head out, crossbow ready to fire. When he pulled himself up and signaled for you to climb up, you fought your terror and began your ascent.

Bright light blinded you as his calloused hand gripped you arm, pulling you the rest of the way. You were met with the view of a large farm, figures stumbling in the distance. You were taken back at how green the grass was and how blue the sky appeared. It had been years since you'd seen the light of day.

The beauty soon came to an end when your eyes landed on a mostly eaten figure lying on the ground. You couldn't mistake him for anyone other than Bram.

"Y/N, focus," Daryl's husky voice snapped from behind you, his hand gripping your arm and tugging you towards him.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts as you raced after him. His pace was swift and soon the farmhouse was in sight. Along the way a few of the figures had seen you and began to move closer.

"Daryl, hurry," your voice shook as you reached the door, pressing your back against his while he worked on getting in.

You could hear him picking the lock but didn't dare turn away from the monster that came within 10 feet of the house. Just as you grabbed ahold of his shirt to brace yourself for attack, the door snapped open and he pushed you inside before turning to put a bolt in the figures head.

It all happened so fast, and you stood frozen in horror trying to process everything. These things were dead and they ate people, stopping at nothing to get what they want. The sound of the door made you jump and your E/C orbs snapped up to meet Daryl as he leaned against the door, panting.

His eyes scanned over your figure, looking for any sign of injury. Satisfied that there were none, he pushed himself straight and moved past you with his weapon in hand. "Stay there til' I get back." He ordered, moving deeper into the house.

Your heart pounded as you watched him leave, fists gripping the fabric of your gown. Being in this new place where your captor lived a seemingly normal life caused panic to rise in your chest. Before you could stop it, your breathing grew uncontrollable which cased your vision to blur.

It seemed like hours before Daryl found you on the floor, knees pulled to your chest. He dropped to the floor, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Breathe for me. S'okay. You're safe now."

Your eyes snapped to his and examined him, trying to slow your breathing. He moved to sit down behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder. Seeing what your reaction had been to this place made him furious. He never wanted to see you afraid again.

"Good girl," he murmured, sensing that you had calmed down. "Let me know when ya ready to get up and I'll find you some decent clothes to wear."

You tensed at the thought and shook your head violently. "No. I-I'm not wearing any of his clothes," your voice had turned from scared to furious as you spat your response.

Daryl nodded slowly, tightening his grip on you. "Course not. I got a flannel on my bike that'll do." The thought of you in his clothes made his throat dry and he gnawed on his lip as a distraction.

Your head bobbed up and down in agreement before you let it fall onto his arms. You both sat like that for half an hour, silently supporting each other. His lips found your shoulder and left a gentle kiss before moving away. You shivered and gripped his forearm tighter, not wanting this moment to end.

"Ya good?" His chest rumbled against you as he spoke, moving to meet you eyes.

"Mhm. Have to be," was your only reply, a forced smile coming to your lips. It was impossible to be okay after what you'd been through and seen but you needed to try.

Daryl nodded pulling away and pushing himself up. "You stay here. Imma go get that flannel and some bags to fill with supplies." He looked back at you before grabbing his crossbow and quickly slipping out of the house.

You took the moment alone to shed a few more tears, wiping them away and standing up. There was no point in crying anymore. You were determined to face this new world with you chin held high. The days of being controlled and abused were over. It was time to face your fears.

Your feet carried you through the house, a long hallway leading to a bedroom coming in view. The floor creaked as you stalked closer. The act of twisting the knob open cause dread to fill you. As the room finally came into view, your hand came up to cover your mouth to stop a cry from filling you. On the bed lay the last outfit you wore before being taken.

You moved closer, hands reaching out to touch the neatly folded black jeans with rips in the knees. They had always been your favorite thing to wear. Beside them sat a black tank top, socks, and boots. Your stomach began to turn at the fact that he'd kept these as some sick trophy. The sudden urge to rip off the black gown on your shoulders grew and your fingers moved to the tight knot that secured it around your waist. You tore it from your figure, throwing it venomously at the floor and grasping for your old clothes.

They fit the same as always, tightly covering your hourglass figure. You moved over to a mirror to look at yourself for the first time in years, eyes misting at your reflection. Your H/C hair was dull and wavy and your eyes roamed the many scars that littered your arms. Daryl hadn't seen them yet and sudden anxiety at  that fact filled you. Would he think you were too damaged?

The sound of the front door snapped your attention away from the mirror and you twisted tightly wrapping your arms around your torso out of habit. You went to move out of the room towards Daryl but the shimmer of a dainty silver necklace caught your eye. A sob left your chest as you reached to brush your fingers along the chain that sat by a knife. This was a gift from your mother for your 18th birthday. A small silver moon dangled as you lifted it up and slipped it over your head. For the first time in a long time you felt like yourself again.

"Ya' look good," Daryl murmured, catching you by surprise. His eyes moved down your body and stopped when he saw your arms. You could feel his fury across the room and he slowly moved closer, reaching out to brush his thumb against a long scar on your left arm. "Son of'a bitch." He growled, pulling a dark green flannel over your shoulders.

"I know they're not much to look at.." you whispered, daring yourself to meet his gaze. You expected to find pity but instead just silent understanding.

"Hush up. That ain't matter anymore." He reached into his bag and pulled out a belt and a knife with an attachment. "Get that on. Ya' always need a knife at the ready. When the walkers come ya' gotta hit em' in the brain."

His fingers pointed to his temple in demonstration and you bobbed your head up and down in understanding. "Okay. I think I can do that." Your lips pulled up slightly as you slipped the belt and weapon on. You felt protected and it was all thanks to the southern man who came to your rescue.

You moved forward swiftly, throwing your arms around Daryl's shoulder and burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like the forest and smoke, such a soothing aroma. "Thank you," you mumbled into him, his stiff body slowly relaxing and returning the embrace.

"Ain't nothing gonna hurt you no more." His chest rumbled as he pulled away and handed you a bag. "Fill it with anything useful. Food, water, weapons."

You nodded and followed him out of the room, sticking by his side as you both scavenged the house. Bram had really come prepared, a closet full of food and an armory found in the basement. You could tell Daryl was excited and so we're you. After you both filled your bags to the brim he brought you to the front door, stopping before turning the lock.

"Rick will wanna bring a truck here, take what's left. For now, we heading home." His hand found the small of your back and you smiled at his touch. "Stay behind me and watch my back while I load the bike, kay?"

You nodded, hand going to the knife on your belt. Once ready, the door swung open and you both stepped out, your eyes scanning the yard. It was surprisingly quiet and the walkers, as Daryl called them, had moved on. You heard him chain the door shut and stuck by his side as you walked out to a motorcycle resting in the gravel.

"I've never been so close to one before," you stated, smiling as your fingers brushed the leather seat.

You didn't notice him watching you with admiration as he loaded up the bags. He couldn't help but share your smile, cheeks reddening at the sight of you. Your H/C hair glowed like a halo in the sun, enhancing your beauty. He looked away quickly as you turned to him, brows scrunched.

"What?" You teased, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Nothin'," he shot back, chewing on his lip. "Hop on." He straddled the seat, starting up the engine. You climbed on behind him, not hesitating to wrap your arms around his torso tightly. "Don't let go. If a walker gets close don't panic. Just close yer eyes."

You nodded against him, resting your cheek on his back. The feel of the wind rushing through your hair made you smile as you pulled onto the road and started your trip to your new home. You were ready for what life had in store. It was time you faced the new world and become who you were always meant to be. A survivor.