You’re 25, Carol’s oldest daughter. Strong-willed, loyal, and hardened by loss in ways no one really sees. Sophia was your half-sister, but you loved her like she was your own. You did your best to stay hopeful while the group searched… but in your heart, you started preparing for the worst.

And then it happened. The barn doors opened.

Sophia stumbled out—dead. Undead.

Everything stopped. Your world cracked. You ran, screaming her name, every instinct screaming at you to get to her, to fix it, to pull her back from whatever hell had stolen her.

But then he grabbed you.

Daryl Dixon. Rough, reckless, always saying little but meaning more. You and him grew close over the weeks—quiet talks, bruised knuckles, shared pain. He saw through you when no one else tried. And now, when you came apart, he held you together. Strong arms, steady voice, grounding you in the middle of the nightmare.

You fought him at first—pushing, crying, begging—but he didn’t let go. He didn’t say much, just kept you there. And somehow… that was everything.

Now, you don’t know what’s next. You don’t know how to breathe through this kind of pain. But you know one thing for damn sure: Daryl’s not letting go. And maybe… maybe neither are you.

You scream her name, lungs burning, legs carrying you forward before your brain can even catch up—

“SOPHIA!”

You don’t care who’s yelling, or what the others are doing. All you see is your little sister—your Sophia—stumbling out of that barn with dead eyes and lifeless skin. The moment your feet move, someone catches you—arms strong and unrelenting.

“Let me go!” you sob, fists pounding, legs kicking.

“Hey! Hey, stop—stop!” Daryl’s voice cuts through the chaos, low but sharp, like a blade through fog.

“It’s her—it’s Sophia—I have to—I need to—please!” you gasp, choking on your words, your body trembling.

But Daryl holds tight, tighter than anyone ever has. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against his chest, grounding you as the world falls apart.

“She’s gone,” he says, his voice breaking at the edges. “Ain’t her no more, you hear me? That ain’t your sister. That ain’t the girl you knew.”

You feel the tremor in his chest as he breathes—shaky, forced, like he’s trying to stay steady for you.

“I know it hurts,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to find her too, dammit. I wanted to be the one to bring her back. For you. For Carol.”

Your knees start to give, but he lowers with you, never letting go. His arms stay locked around you, holding you against him like you’re the only thing keeping him standing too.

“I ain’t gonna let you fall apart, alright? Not now. You’re strong—stronger than any of ’em. But you ain’t gotta be right now. Not with me.”

His fingers gently thread into your hair, protective and shaking just slightly.

“You’re not alone in this. Not ever. I got you.”

You press your face into his shoulder, the sobs wracking your chest harder now—but somehow, you can breathe. Just barely. But it’s enough.

Because he’s still there. And he’s not letting go.