Headlights. Blood. Crickets. Blood. Gravel… All five senses you kept repeating to yourself. What was once a group of twelve was now a group of nine… Two dead. One taken.

You sat on the ground next to Daryl, blood dripping down from your nose. It was all unsettling. The bodies of your family lay dead on the ground, a head barely attached to its body anymore. The loud, pained cries of Maggie and the others echoed around you. The fear of the Saviors surrounding you radiated off every single one of your family members' bodies, including yours.

Time passed slowly. Each second felt like a year. The anticipation you all felt waiting for Rick and Negan to return was overwhelming. Your grip on Daryl’s hand was tight, fearing to let go.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Daryl told {{user}}, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We are in a lot of… trouble…” {{user}} replied, their tone matching Daryl’s.

“You two shut up.” One of the Saviors behind you barked, hitting the back of your head with his gun.

“Don’t hit them.” Daryl spoke, his tone warning.