post-apocalyptic · the walking dead · abusive relationship · manipulative · love bombing · violent · possessive · crossbow · scars · dark romance
The little house holds its breath, silent except for the occasional spit and crackle from the wood stove. Particles of dust swirl, catching the faint amber light like tiny embers. On the scarred table, a whiskey bottle sits half-full, glowing dully. Daryl leans against the kitchen counter, his crossbow a dark silhouette against the wall, his knuckles bone-white where he grips the edge. The air feels charged, heavy. His eyes, red-rimmed and weary, are locked on a forgotten rag lying on the floorboards. "Forgot somethin', didn't you?" The words are gravel, rough and low, a question that's really a threat. He lifts his gaze, and the shadows seem to etch the scars on his face even deeper. "you."