A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
"Like a band-aid on a bleeding heart, I fake a smile and fall apart." - Bad Life, Sigrid and Bring Me The Horizon.
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Contentwarning: talk of suicidal ideation
Desperately looking for something to distract them both from the current silence they'd lapsed into, Erin's eyes landed on Daryl's abdomen, or more specifically the crimson stain along the side of his t-shirt. It was only then that she even recalled his injury, the events of the past few hours completely erasing her memory of anything that had occurred the day before.
"You're bleeding through your bandages," she observed, prompting him to look down in slight surprise, "I guess it was a waste of time telling you to take it easy."
Daryl appeared to roll his eyes, but she couldn't be sure in the dimming light, "I slept a night. Figured that'd be long enough."
"Nowhere near. I'd suggest a week, but that'll never happen..." She shuffled closer to him, staying seated due to the limited height of the tent, "Can I take a look? I can redress it for you...?"
He looked up at her, his face unreadable in the darkness as he seemed to tense up at her approach and then slowly relax, "Nah, ya okay. Had worse."
Erin bit her lip, her hands trembling as she wanted to reach out and examine the bandages but didn't want to spook him. She met his gaze, his blue eyes the only thing she could see in the warm glow of the sunset that bathed the tent.
"Please..."
His brow furrowed at her request, his eyes obscured as he squinted at her in momentary confusion. A moment passed as he seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate, but she couldn't find the words to explain. She needed something to take her mind off everything that was going on in her mind, outside the tent, in the wider world. Her hands were itching to be useful again after she'd convinced herself her entire body was useless.
Whether he understood fully or not, Daryl nodded. Slowly, he angled his body towards her, a wordless invitation for her to take a look at the bandages which wrapped around his middle. Erin released a breath she'd been unaware she was holding before shifting yet closer to him, her knee brushing against his right leg as she took a seat beside him, intensely focusing herself on his wounded abdomen.
A stain around the size of her hand darkened the fabric of his shirt, some of it still looking wet. It wasn't a great sign considering how thickly she'd bandaged the wound, though he'd shifted around a lot so she fully expected he'd torn through his stitches.
"Can I...?" She gestured towards his shirt, motioning upwards. He caught on and, after an almost imperceptible hesitation, he grabbed the hem and lifted it so she could see the bandages properly, "Thanks."
