When the Dead Come Knocken.

Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, we were both silent. Once I had spilled the truth of my mother he just walked past me and sat down, I know he wanted answers but I didn't want to talk about it.

"She turn?" His words made me jump a little bit. His body turned to where he was now looking at me.

I gave a small nod and he shook his head, he knew how much i loved my mother; and I know he was kicking himself in the ass for acting the way he did.

"Ivy-"

"No Daryl, there's nothing to say. It happened and I have to live with it, I also have to live with the fact that you gave up on me. The one time I needed you most, you gave up on me." My words dripped like poison causing him to flinch.

"Merle, he-" I cut him off one again.

"What about Merle? He convinced you I was dead? You gave up so easily to believe your wife was dead!" I stood from the bed, angry steering through my body. This wasn't a good idea, being drunk and having this conversation. "Fuck you Daryl Dixon. How dare you, I gave my all to you. Every time you went on a hunting trip, I never gave up on you."

I was now standing in front of him, my finger in his face.

"Ivy... I'm sorry, I didn't know what else ta do. What ta think! I thought you're dead! You ain't able to survive alone, you always fucken fell during the trips I took you on. I always had to look after ya!" He was now standing and towering over me.

"So that's what how you feel? I'm basically a burden to you?" I spoke softly and he held his deep gaze.

Nodding silently I turned and made my way to the door, leaving him to stand in his room alone.