This entire experience has left Daryl feeling like the world's most disgusting son of a bitch, a putrid creature that exists to be stared at, poked, judged, and found wanting. The feeling probably started when he landed on this goddamn rock, and a soldier stuck his fancy gun in Daryl's face. It's a feeling that's settled over him like a second skin, the idea that he's some strange intruder that has to constantly prove his worth. It's a grotesque parody of what he always was at home, in the hospital, in the forests, in the prison, and even before then. Standing on that goddamn farm like it was the end of the world, sleeping in a lean-to under a tree, what was he then? Is he still now?

These are all loftier questions than Daryl is capable of answering, much less asking, in his current state. The feeling of freakishness floods over him in waves, and he lets it. It's just there.

Only when Beth talks to him like he doesn't exist to be punished does he notice it at all.

He opens his eyes. "Told you," he whispers, "ain't goin' nowhere."