And as such it gets, probably, the last thing Glenn expects-- a short, bitter bark of a laugh. Funny how such a thing can sound so much like a sob; but there's a certain sick humor to this, the irony of it.
Is he imagining Glenn's kindness because, from beginning to end, Glenn was extraordinarily, invariably, the best of people? Or-- and it's barely even a question, Daryl knows the likelier answer-- even now, he's being selfish, seeking some sort of absolution he doesn't deserve.
"Deserve a lot worse," he mutters-- or means to. Not much more than a cracked whisper escapes him. He's hardly sure he spoke aloud at all.
Truthfully, it's not quite the last thing he expected. He was certain that Daryl would be blaming himself, at least, that he'd decide he deserved whatever these people subjected him to. But it's true, you can't necessarily anticipate how people will respond to you when you're dead. There's a certain variance there, probably based around the fact that you shouldn't be there.
"It wasn't your fault. And I know you're not going to believe me, that you probably don't even think I'm really here, and that's okay. I know I wouldn't believe it either. But I know that it wasn't and I am me."
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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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
no subject
And as such it gets, probably, the last thing Glenn expects-- a short, bitter bark of a laugh. Funny how such a thing can sound so much like a sob; but there's a certain sick humor to this, the irony of it.
Is he imagining Glenn's kindness because, from beginning to end, Glenn was extraordinarily, invariably, the best of people? Or-- and it's barely even a question, Daryl knows the likelier answer-- even now, he's being selfish, seeking some sort of absolution he doesn't deserve.
"Deserve a lot worse," he mutters-- or means to. Not much more than a cracked whisper escapes him. He's hardly sure he spoke aloud at all.
no subject
Truthfully, it's not quite the last thing he expected. He was certain that Daryl would be blaming himself, at least, that he'd decide he deserved whatever these people subjected him to. But it's true, you can't necessarily anticipate how people will respond to you when you're dead. There's a certain variance there, probably based around the fact that you shouldn't be there.
"It wasn't your fault. And I know you're not going to believe me, that you probably don't even think I'm really here, and that's okay. I know I wouldn't believe it either. But I know that it wasn't and I am me."
no subject
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.