Lone Survivors

I visited Daryl in the house once he was able to be conscious and on weaker painkillers. He was sitting up and reading a book to pass the time when I knocked on his door, and when he showed no reaction to my presence, I felt slightly disappointed. Maybe the pain was making his thoughts unclear and kind last time I was here? Was he just another dick after all?

“Hey…” I said. I had intended for it to come out confidently, but instead it was a bare whisper. Mentally slapping myself, I took a step into the room.

“Hey,” he replied curtly, his blue eyes still scanning the page. Feeling slightly offended from being ignored, I frowned a little, but nonetheless walked to his bedside.

“Um-” I began, but was hushed by Daryl raising a finger at me. Again, I felt insulted. Where had that kind of nice man gone? Daryl’s hand reached up to the top of the book and folded the corner down. The book was then closed and set down next to him on the bed.

“Really good book,” he told me with a small smile. I relaxed as I realised that was his form of apology and stopped feeling a smidgen upset. “What did ya want?”

“I just wanted to offer a massage,” I answered and he smirked. “If you could just not think like a typical male for one moment, then perhaps you might realise that it’s most likely a good idea and will help you heal quicker.”

“It’ll help? Not make things worse?” Daryl questioned cautiously and I nodded.

“Yeah… If I’m careful around the wound in your torso, it’ll help relax it and aid the bruise in disappearing and it won’t hurt too much,” I explained. Daryl raised an eyebrow, clearly still not convinced. “Sometimes my clients were injured. They always said it really helped. But if you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

“Alrigh’ then,” Daryl sighed, sinking back down onto the bed so he was flat. I nodded and moved to stand on the opposite side of his wound. After a quick glance at Daryl’s face, I started to press my fingers into his body in a gentle way. I worked in a softer manner than I usually would, taking extra care whenever I neared the gash in his side. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt and anger him. After a few minutes I noticed his eyes were starting to droop and his breathing had slowed down a lot. Even a few quiet grunts came out of him, something I could make everyone I massaged do. I was just glad I was doing something to help.

Once I had done all I could really do, I pulled away and waited for him to speak, expecting a thank you of some sorts. But nothing. I frowned, reverting back to my not-so-high opinion of Daryl until I noticed he was sleeping. He had to be. Daryl was completely still, his mouth was slightly open, and his chest rose and fell very gradually. With a tiny smile, I dismissed myself from the room as quietly as possible and shut the door behind me.