You knew that your stomach was finally clear and yet you were confused by the pain. You couldn't understand how you could get into the bathroom. You've never reacted so badly to alcohol. But you weren't alone. You realized that you had no hair in front of your face, which meant someone held it. Whoever it was, he pushed you straight away.

"Are ya' done?", Daryl scolded.

After a few tries and some effort, you finally managed to get up, though due to the dizziness you couldn't be 100% stable.

"Ya' 're pathetic.", he added.

He was sitting on the edge of the tub, but you guessed he wasn't much clearer than you. To your surprise, he fell in and slammed his head against the wall tiles. You smiled after seeing the scene in the mirror.

"You're pathetic.", you repeated.

"Shut up!", he grumbled insulted: "I've been sittin' here for an hour like I'm yer fuckin' babysitter!"

You narrowed your eyes and were looking for some relief. Since you had laid down meanwhile, your dizziness improved. Much of the drunkenness was gone, but you were still slightly drunk, but at least you could talk.

"I wonder every day if you've always been such an asshole."

Normally he was stubborn, but drunk he was worse. He countered, but changed his mind quickly and moved away again. You stared at him and couldn't help but smile. You found him funny in every little gesture. You disturbed him, and yet he hadn't left you alone, he stood there and did nothing just to be with you when you needed someone or when you felt bad.

"Have you always been like this?", you asked again, shyly.

"No.", he replied with his head down: "I was worse, a piece of shit 'nd a selfish bastard."

You could barely believe those words, but after his expression, you realized he was suffering. You didn't ask for explanations because the past had little meaning now. It was strange to see him like this, stretched out in a comfortable position. But now he was stunned by alcohol and seemed to care about nothing but to look at you or look grumpy.

"Do ya' 've to look at me like that dumb?", he asked.

"No, I think you're funny."

He looked at you confused, surprised and irritated at the same time. Maybe nobody had ever called him that, or at least no one had dared to admit it aloud. So he snorted without saying another word and hid behind his hair.

"And ya' 're stupid." he said after five minutes of silence.

"What?"

"Ya' 're always smilin', talkin' 'bout a future, ya' think things 're goin' to change. Wake up! Terminus will just be another piece of shit we'll add to our collection."

"I just want to be optimistic, just enough not to go crazy.", you said.

"That's the point! Ya' should've freaked out. Instead, ya' 're as cold as a damn stone. I didn't see any reaction. First this asshole that died by yer side. Ya' 've lost everythin' as well 'nd Joe 'nd his people, they've-...", Daryl started to speak but you interrupted him.

"That's enough!", you screamed, slamming your palm into his face. You slapped him instinctively without realizing it, as if you wanted to block those words that would have undermined you inside. You didn't want to hear anything else, you didn't want him to finish this sentence. If you hadn't had the alcohol in your body, you wouldn't have reacted this way, you would have just reacted neutrally. At that moment, however, you were unable to digest these speeches. You were more susceptible and emotionally unstable than normal. You stood with your hand held shut to look at him with reproach and rage. Daryl said nothing and stepped out of the tub.

"Dare it again 'nd I swear ya' ain't alive the next mornin'!", he yelled angrily.

"Fuck you!", you only answered.

He then left the bathroom and slammed the door. You now crouched in a fetal position and laid your face on this smooth surface. Daryl couldn't understand or imagine what you felt or who you really are. It's true, you didn't show anything, you hid everything. It wasn't your intention to be a victim, to be treated differently or treated with care. You pretended that nothing had hurt you, that nothing had destroyed you, though you were practically bleeding in your soul. Unfortunately, these unprepared words had already infiltrated you and made your feel uncomfortable, resulting in a hysterical scream. You tried desperately to hold yourself back, but you didn't suppress the sobs. You processed all the weight you had put on your shoulders and falsely believed that it was quite difficult and you were capable of such stamina. Drowned in those salty tears, tapping in this ocean of despair and agony... You had let yourself go. Finally, after a long time, you have freed yourself. Slowly, your abdomen ached from involuntary tears, causing the sobbing to end and causing very severe headaches. However, you stayed in that position for a long time, without moving a finger to dry your cheeks. Although you felt terribly weak and broken, you decided to get up. You wouldn't have allowed yourself to sleep in the tub after finally finding reasonable beds. You sat there, frowning, hoping the dizziness would fade a little. Suddenly the door slowly opened and pulled with it a cumbersome creak. Daryl appeared leaning against the edge in front of you. On the floor you noticed another empty bottle.

"Finally ya' 're calm.", he hissed: "I'd rather 've my ears torn off."

You didn't look at him and remained apathetic to his words. If you had said something wrong, you would have had the unfortunate pleasure of discovering a very aggressive side of Daryl. So it was better to be quiet.

"Did a walker eat yer tongue?", he asked annoyed.

So you got up and tried not to lose your balance. But after a few steps you fell again. You were dehydrated and had nothing left in your stomach, you had rejected every fragment of food you had swallowed and lost the energy. Your body asked for mercy. You had to lie down. The archer hurried to you and held you tight.

"Daryl, I-...", you said, trying to apologize for what had happened.

Despite the situation, this was the first thing you had thought about.

"Shut up.", he countered and took you in his arms. You crossed the threshold of the bathroom and headed for the stairs. Daryl kicked at the bottles, obstructing the path, and took those steps with no sign of exertion.

"I don't feel so good.", he murmured, revealing the obvious, in fact, you didn't answer and confined yourself to appearing in what your room should have been but you heard a light snore.

"Rick collapsed in the first bed he found.", he snorted.

He walked carefully through the corridor and it was completely dark. The candles were long out. You went to another room and he laid you gently on the bed.

"Try to sleep on the side, ya' could choke if ya' fall asleep when ya' vomit on yer back."

"Yes, okay...", you mumbled and your eyelids became heavy.

You had to make an effort to keep your eyes open. He looked at you with a strange expression and you saw that he was still a little confused, but his good side had prevailed. He put his hand on your forehead and worriedly moved your hair out of your face before you lost your senses.

A sound made you step out of this state of unconsciousness and wake up in bed, as if threatened. Everything seemed confusing. A faint light came through the windows, making the room comfortable and suitable for another nap. You turned in the direction of the sound heard and as soon as you opened your mouth, Michonne put a finger to your lips.

"Stay quiet.", she advised you in a low voice, pointing with her eyes into the corner of the room. "He was awake all night."

You watched what her iris had suggested to you and noticed that Daryl collapsed in a chair. Meanwhile, Michonne put a tray on the bedside table and handed you a glass of water.

"You have to drink a lot and I've brought you a chocolate bar that will quickly give you your energy back.", she added in a low tone hoping that the archer wouldn't wake up. She smiled at you and raised her eyebrows with a wink while you were shaking your head in disbelief. Daryl had been polite before, then an asshole and then nice again. It was useless to ask for explanations whenever he reacted badly or ruminated your actions as if it was all your fault. It was enough to be patient and to accept him for what he was. Michonne waved you that she would be back later and left the room on tiptoe. You tried to pull yourself up a bit to sit with your back against the headboard from the bed. In this position, you could see the archer better. He seemed so harmless... You poured yourself another glass of water, but finally you clung to the bottle. You didn't know how thirsty you actually are. Your head hurt and you were cold, you probably had a fever and it must have been high. So you checked your body for an infected wound. It could be an infection and that would have been a big problem. You saw two pills on the tray and took them without batting an eyelid. The antibiotics would lower your fever. You ate the chocolate bar very slowly and avoided irritating noises. At the third bite Daryl stirred his cold eyes in your direction. He got up and opened the window so he could watch the sun and mumbled something. Probably he hadn't slept much. He came closer to put his hand back on your forehead, but when he saw you holding the blanket up, he stopped at the end of the bed.

"Have ya' taken medication yet?", he asked, stretching himself.

"Yes, a few antibiotics."

"I exclude an infection.", he confirmed with confidence, reaching for the crossbow next to the chair.

"The next time ya' want to ruin my evenin', let me know.", he said and left.

You ate the chocolate, drowned the worry in the sugar and tried to get up, still wrapped in the blanket over your shoulders. You weren't allowed to stop the group if you all wanted to reach Terminus... A short while later, walking down the corridor, you entered your own room. The bed was empty so you decided to change clothes. When you reached the kitchen, you found Michonne, who threw something in a bag and Carl was busy eating something.

"How are you? Did you eat?", she asked, raising her head.

"I'm feeling better, thanks."

You looked around for Daryl and Rick, but there was no sign of them.

"How much better? Did you take the pills?"

"Yes, I have, and at least I have the strength to get up."

"So ya' made us waste medication.", Daryl grumbled, slamming the front door.

"We couldn't know!", Michonne replied angrily: "It's better to play it safe."

"Now we know it.", replied the archer.

You were about to answer when Michonne waved you over.

"Is the area safe?", Carl suddenly asked.

"The part I checked? Yes. We're waitin' for yer father to return."

Suddenly some shots echoed, as well as alarm systems in the neighborhood, in an area not far from your position. You looked at each other questioningly what to do and without opening your mouths, you hurriedly packed your bags as Rick came into the house and was bleeding.

"We have to go immediately!", he shouted: "A herd!"

"Dad, what did you do with your arm?", Carl asked and Daryl ran out of the house and aimed his crossbow.

A herd of walkers was looking for a few cars. Rick had activated the alarms.

"We've to hurry as long as they're distracted!", urged Daryl.

Hurriedly, Rick picked up some supplies and headed back down the street, ready to show you the way you needed to go. Carl followed him, hoping his father would answer the question. Michonne and you looked at each other with a veil of bitterness. It was a shame to leave these walls, because who knows how long it would have taken to reach an equally comfortable and well-structured location. You swallowed and urged yourself to make it. You would have to put a lot of distance between you and the herd. When you were far enough away, Michonne protested that you should stop running. It seemed strange to ask for a break, a few minutes to catch your breath, because she wasn't the type. In fact, when she came close to you, you understood that she hadn't demanded that for herself, but for you.

"Do you think you can do it?", she whispered to you. Rick appeared and looked around, startled and ready to attack. You were safe now, but the sheriff didn't seem to be sure. After all, it was understandable, you never could be sure...

"I'm fine.", you replied: "There's nothing to worry about."

Carl raised his father's sleeve. A large amount of blood slid down his forearm, turning his hand red and impregnating the fabric.

"It's nothing.", he told his son reassuringly, as Carl pulled a bandage out of the top pocket of his backpack and pulled out a disinfectant at the same time, leaving Rick motionless, studying the clearing and letting his arm dangle so that the boy would clean it with care.

"Couldn't you break the windows differently?", Carl asked.

"Yes, after that."

Rational and conscientious as he was, he sometimes knew he sounded like a madman. Meanwhile, Daryl emerged with a sure step out of the dense vegetation.

"If we want to stop, we won't 've any problems here, at least not now.", he ordered.

"No.", the sheriff replied: "I'd like to arrive in Terminus before the night, and we'll take a break later."

"Rick, it would be better to come back to our full strength if we have to fight or flee.", Michonne said.

The sheriff nodded but continued his journey. So you continued to walk on this dry ground. You had become accustomed to the long, quiet moments, albeit in company. Still, you could barely keep up, but showed no sign of yielding, emulating your companions and showing a natural serenity. After a few hours, you joined Rick after you noticed his relaxation.

"Is everything alright?", you asked.

He leaned to the side with a grimace as if to say: "It's not bad."...

"I was wrong, we were not allowed to stay in this house, it was not safe.", he added. This impression was in fact not given, the area was reassuring.

"If I hadn't gone outside this morning, we wouldn't have noticed the herd early enough.", he said regretfully.

"Nothin' happened 'nd we're fine, Rick.", Daryl said, sneaking into the conversation.

The two looked at each other as good friends and the silence fell between you again. Suddenly, your eyes lowered, you didn't notice that the group had stopped. You stumbled against the extended arm of the sheriff and urged yourself not to take another step.

In the distance you saw a red brick building with huge white letters: Terminus.

And you knew you had made it, you had arrived.