Unbreakable threads

Chapter forty- Five: confiding in daryl

Finally, she sighed, her voice soft and barely above a whisper. "It's... it's nothing, Daryl," she murmured, though her tone betrayed the lie. She wanted to believe it herself, that everything was fine, but the truth sat heavy in her chest.

Daryl sighed quietly, his chest heavy with understanding and frustration. He didn't need Alyssa to tell him outright to see that something was deeply wrong. He'd watched her and Rick shift, seen the hardness that had taken root in both of them since the fall of the farm. Rick's transformation was evident to everyone—his calm, almost measured approach had been replaced with an unyielding intensity, a strength born out of something dark. And Alyssa... she had changed too, mirroring that same fierceness, carrying a burden that seemed far too heavy for someone so young.

He knew trauma when he saw it, recognized the look in their eyes, the way they held themselves. Daryl had lived with his own demons long enough to know that whatever had happened to Rick and Alyssa at the farm had bound them together in a way that went beyond blood. It was something raw, something that had carved its mark into them, making them harder, colder, and more resilient, yet leaving a part of them shattered beneath the surface.

Alyssa's silence only confirmed his suspicions. This new connection with her father wasn't just about shared DNA; it was built on a shared pain, something dark and unspoken. Daryl didn't need the details to know it had shaped them, drawn them closer through mutual scars rather than shared memories. He wished he could help her carry it, wished he could find a way to ease whatever haunted her, but he also knew that some things couldn't be simply fixed or erased.

After a moment, he spoke quietly, his voice low and gruff, laced with a rare gentleness. "I dunno what happened back there... but ya know, ya don't gotta carry it all by yourself." He paused, letting his words settle into the silence. "If ya ever wanna talk... I'm here."

Alyssa shifted on the top bunk, turning her head so she could peer down at Daryl. Their eyes met in the dim light, his steady gaze meeting hers, filled with a quiet understanding that made her hesitate. She felt the weight of his offer, the openness he was extending, but the thought of actually letting him in, of telling him what had happened that night at the farm, made her chest tighten. Part of her feared that if she told him, he might see her differently, might see something broken or dark that she'd tried so hard to keep hidden.

She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Daryl... if I told you, you might... you might not look at me the same way." Her words hung in the air, thick with the vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. She'd built up walls, armored herself with toughness, but in this moment, she couldn't keep them up entirely.

Daryl didn't break his gaze, his expression unwavering. He let out a soft sigh, almost as if he'd been expecting her to say that. "Ain't nothin' you could tell me that'd make me see ya different, kid," he said, his voice low, steady, and filled with the kind of conviction that only came from someone who'd been through his own darkness. "We've all done things... had to do things. Ain't gonna judge ya for it. Whatever happened, it's yours to share or keep. Just know... I'm here either way."

Alyssa took a deep, shaky breath, finally allowing herself to lower her guard, even if just for this moment. She let her words come out quietly, each one feeling like a weight lifted but also a vulnerability exposed.

"It was me, Daryl," she whispered, her voice thick with the emotion she'd been bottling up. "Rick... he lunged at Shane first, but it didn't end there. Shane was still alive, still fighting, and I saw him reaching for his gun. Even though he was injured... I knew he was gonna... he was gonna hurt Rick."

She paused, her gaze fixed on Daryl, almost as if expecting him to flinch or pull back. But his eyes stayed locked on hers, unwavering, his expression soft but steady, encouraging her to continue.