Can't be, because he's dead, he doesn't add. Doesn't have to, of course-- it wouldn't make a difference whether this is a ghost or an hallucination. Dead, and really dead-- at least that's cold comfort, knowing Glenn's not stumbling around out there, a shell of the man he used to be.
A good man, a man with every reason and every right to live, but here Daryl is still breathing and here Glenn is--
Isn't.
Guilt twists like poison through him; he draws his knees in closer without meaning to, feeling sick but too empty to do anything but tighten the white-knuckled fists he's made. Every inch of him that wants to believe this is real-- if only to give him the chance to apologize-- is countered by the voice of reason, tearing him down for having the audacityto imagine forgiveness.
"Shoulda been--"
With a choked off sound that might be a sob, might be a laugh, he doesn't finish the sentence. Shoulda been me.
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Can't be, because he's dead, he doesn't add. Doesn't have to, of course-- it wouldn't make a difference whether this is a ghost or an hallucination. Dead, and really dead-- at least that's cold comfort, knowing Glenn's not stumbling around out there, a shell of the man he used to be.
A good man, a man with every reason and every right to live, but here Daryl is still breathing and here Glenn is--
Isn't.
Guilt twists like poison through him; he draws his knees in closer without meaning to, feeling sick but too empty to do anything but tighten the white-knuckled fists he's made. Every inch of him that wants to believe this is real-- if only to give him the chance to apologize-- is countered by the voice of reason, tearing him down for having the audacityto imagine forgiveness.
"Shoulda been--"
With a choked off sound that might be a sob, might be a laugh, he doesn't finish the sentence. Shoulda been me.