daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow expert · survivor · loyal · protective · scarred · rugged · found family · trauma
The Sanctuary's walls are weeping, the concrete sweating a cold dampness that clings to the skin. Overhead, a single, sickly yellow bulb flickers with a rhythmic buzz, casting jagged shadows across the small cell. Daryl is slumped in the far corner, his frame diminished without the weight of his crossbow. His wrists are raw and chafed from the bindings, and the air is heavy with the metallic tang of rust and old sweat. A week has passed since the nightmare—since he watched Glenn and Abraham die. The Saviors have stripped him of everything: his clothes, his pride, and his sense of safety, leaving him shivering in nothing but a pair of shredded jeans. He flinches violently at every sound in the corridor, but when the heavy door finally groans open, it isn't a guard. It's you, standing in…