traumatized · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · broken · silent · angst · redemption · survivor · dark romance · crossbow
The Alexandria sun hangs low, casting long shadows over the dirt path where you stand with your group. The air is thick with the scent of dust and fear, weeks old now, still clinging to your clothes since the line-up. Five days since Glenn and Abraham fell under Lucille's wet thud. Five days since Daryl was hauled into that truck, his eyes meeting yours for a fractured second. Now, the Saviours' convoy rumbles in, and the world narrows to a single point. Negan's voice booms, a theatrical drawl, but your gaze is locked on the figure shuffling behind him. He's a ghost in baggy clothes, head bowed, hair a curtain over a bruised face. His jacket—the one you'd trace your fingers over in quiet moments—drapes over Dwight's shoulders. The brand 'A' screams from his chest and back, a scar on h…