Mercy

The forest seemed darker tonight than it ever had before as Mercy stopped underneath an old weeping willow. It seemed a fitting tree to die beneath, given its mythology. It was a tree that symbolized life, death, and rebirth all in one. What better place to die than that?

She sat beneath it slowly, letting her legs stretch out in front of her before she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against its trunk. The strands of leaves gently fluttered around her, and for the first time since she’d run away from Daryl, Mercy felt at peace. The end was near; she could feel it. She could almost smell the difference in the air here. This tree was to be her deathbed.

Time seemed to drag on forever as she lay there, not saying a word as she watched the midnight sky slowly become splashed with the warm colors of a beautiful sunrise. This was to be her last sunrise, and it was a beautiful one. It seemed as if the earth was standing still for Mercy; waiting for her to depart before continuing on with its ugly nature.

She appreciated that.

Soon enough, however, Mercy could hear heavy footsteps trampling the dead leaves on the forest floor, and for half a second she worried that it may be a walker before she realized once again that it didn’t matter anyway. Soon enough, she’d be one of them.

Becoming a walker was an interesting situation for Mercy to find herself in. She’d already decided that suicide wouldn’t work with her. She hadn’t the courage to pull the trigger, and slitting her wrists wasn’t likely to work, either. Dying this way was almost more frightening, however. How many people would she kill as a walker? How many others would she create by biting them before someone put her down?

The footsteps came closer and closer until Mercy could see the figure of someone walking closer to her tree in the distance. Her heart sunk when she realized that it was Daryl. There was no mistaking the look of those rough clothes on his back or the haircut he kept his hair in.

He’d come looking for her, and if he kept walking the way he was, he’d find her.

Already, though, her body was too weak to move. Death was taking over her senses. Her legs felt heavy and it was becoming increasingly difficult to take deep breaths. She knew that it wouldn’t be long now. Did it really matter if Daryl found her anymore?

It only took him minutes to near the tree, and when he did, Mercy couldn’t help but let out a small whimper that brought his gaze straight to her underneath the strands of leaves. He slowly walked underneath the tree and then looked down at her, his eyes widening and then watering when he saw the condition she was in now.

“Mercy…” He murmured before she smiled weakly as she met his gaze.

“Why did you come looking for me? I d-didn’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered with a half-smile on her face.

Mercy’s voice was growing weaker by the second, and she couldn’t deny that with every small breath she took, more and more blood was exiting her body through the wound. It had become reopened when she’d brushed up against a tree earlier when she’d been running. It wouldn’t be long now until she was gone; until she was dead. This wasn’t the way she had wanted Daryl to remember her.

He dropped to his knees beside her and touched her face with his fingertips, his touch uncharacteristically soft as he met her gaze.

“You’re not leavin’ me again, Mercy,” he whispered the words to her, shaking his head as he tried to wipe the blood away from a scrape on her chin. When it just kept seeping out, he let out a small, choked sob.

She could tell that he felt like he had failed her, and it broke her heart. He hadn’t. If anyone had failed, it was her for ever crossing her path with him again. She should have walked away the second Daryl Dixon had come back in her life because if there was one thing she had ever known to be true about the two of their stories, it was that nothing good ever came with the two of them.

They were tragic, and this ending just proved her point.

“Daryl, leave,” she begged him, sputtering for a moment. “Please. I don’t want you t-to see me die. I don’t want you to have to be the one to—”

“Ain’t nobody puttin’ a bullet in your head,” he growled at her through a small cry. “You ain’t dyin’ on me. You ain’t leavin’ me like Merle did. Like Mama did. Not you, Mercy. Not again. I ain’t lettin’ you leave again.”

“Daryl,” she said softly. “We both know I can’t survive this. No one can; not really. We all just die. And then we become walkers. Just let me go.”

He shook his head, his eyes widening as she coughed again, her eyes drifting closed as her body weakened even more. He knew the end was close, and she could feel it more than he could see it. She had only minutes left.

This wasn’t how Mercy had wanted her life to end. Back before the outbreak, she’d thought that she’d live to be an old woman, maybe with a husband or maybe not. She’d thought she’d have a long, somewhat satisfying life with memories of her first seven years of life with Daryl by her side to keep her company.

She had certainly never thought her life would be cut short at the age of twenty-eight. And she hadn’t thought that her life would end with her becoming a walker.

“Merc,” he whimpered, tapping her arm lightly. “Mercy, please.”

“D-Daryl,” she stammered, opening her eyes for a few brief seconds before the harsh brightness of the sun became too painful. She could see Daryl’s face clearly; the crisp blueness of his eyes made even more vibrant by the tears shining in them, the stubble he let grow on his face. His thin lips, turned down in a frown and the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes even more defined as he scrunched them shut in pain.

“I want you to know something,” she whispered as she squeezed his hand as much as she could. He held her hand, not wanting to let it go as he brushed her blood-dampened hair away from her eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

His voice became a little firmer and she could tell that he was slowly starting to come to terms that this was to be their last meeting. He’d never see her again after this; she’d never hear his voice again or call back his memory when the pain of life in this world became too much to bear.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Daryl, I…I want you to know that.”

Another cough passed through her lips, followed by a cry of sharp pain as she felt something burst in her stomach. She knew that it was all over now; that within seconds, she’d be gone. She reached for his hand again and mustered all of her strength to open her eyes again.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t let me become one of them. End it. For good,” she breathed out weakly.

It was a lot to ask of him; she knew it was. Already in the short amount of time she’d become reacquainted with him, he had lost so much; had had to hurt so much. Merle had gone and left him again, and he had no other group to back him up. It had just been the two of them for the last couple of days since he’d saved her in the woods and now…Well, now he didn’t even have her anymore.

And now, she was asking him to put an arrow in her head. It was too much to ask, but she had to. She couldn’t become what she’d hated most.

“Mercy,” he sobbed. “I can’t…I don’t…”

“Please,” she begged, coughing again. “It’s okay, Daryl.”

Her eyes closed again and this time, they both knew that it was for the last time. The world went silent for them in that moment. For a few seconds, Mercy almost felt alive again, like she had been back before the outbreak; back before the death and the pain.

She could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze again. She could feel the sun warming her skin; the few birds that dared to leave their nests in the trees chirping back and forth. She could feel the soft grass beneath her dying body, and she could hear Daryl’s breathing accompany her own as he held her close to his body, sobs wracking through his chest as he ghosted his lips over her chapped ones in a barely-there kiss.

“I love you too,” she heard him say as her pulse weakened to an almost nonexistent point. “I always did, Mercy. Always will,” he promised. “I love you.”

It was then that she let herself let go. Hearing Daryl say those words brought comfort to her rather than pain. She felt relief as she felt the darkness swarm in, her consciousness floating away as each organ individually shut down, her body stilling in ways she’d never realized it could.

Death wasn’t what Mercy had thought it would be. It wasn’t a cliché bright light at the end of a long black tunnel. It wasn’t a pearly white gate or a hellish black one. It wasn’t some cheesy alternative ‘90s rock song. For Mercy, it was the end of a long, painful road. It was the completion of a journey she’d never even known she was taking on. It was the end of the outbreak; the end of having to live only to survive.

Death, for Mercy, was being embraced by love; a warm, fuzzy feeling that made her feel like everything was okay. It was feeling Daryl’s body next to hers; hearing his soft goodbye grace her ears as she let go. It was feeling his hand holding hers unrelentingly; not wanting to let her go. It was a feeling of being cherished. It was knowing that, even after she was gone, she would live on in someone else’s heart.

Death wasn’t really the end of life. It was just another beginning.