1971
It wasn't the best of houses in the town, but I always managed to keep it neat and tidy. But with a six year old to take care of, that wasn't always easy. Merle was hyperactive and boisterous, just like any boy of his age, usually charging through rooms like a hurricane and undoing all of my tidying. "That boy is out of control," my mother would always say. Nevertheless, I saw the sweet, polite side to him no one else did. People didn't give him enough of a chance to be himself. I did. He was my son, after all.
Will preferred this end of town. It was where he had grown up and his friends and family all lived here. It was a community in itself, located through a winding path through the trees, set away from the main streets of town where I grew up. This life was alien to me when I first married Will and moved to this part, where all of the ranch-styled houses looked as shabby as the next. I tried my best to keep the gardens clear and the porch clean, but tossed beer bottles and cans usually find their way back.
I'm not saying my upbringing was drastically different to how Will's was; yes, I was brought up on the "upper" side of town, but in a small mountain town like ours, that meant nothing to what city-folk would call "upper class". We did have a nice house, though, and my mother always kept everything clean and in order. I guess you could say that was where I got my cleanliness and my pride in appearances from. Will had no regard for appearances, however. He was messy and I spent more of my time cleaning up after him than Merle.
I didn't have a choice. It was that or…you know. That.
It was on a Tuesday that I did my grocery shopping before going to pick Merle up from school. He was in the First Grade at the only Elementary School in town, and while he usually got into trouble with the teachers and other children, he seemed excited today.
"We was learnin' about aquatic mammals, Mommy," Merle told me from the backseat of the car, holding some of the groceries I couldn't fit in the trunk. We had money this month, hence the copious amount of food I had hurriedly bought before Will had the chance to spend it all.
"Did you?" I asked excitedly. I loved to see him smile – he rarely did. "What did you learn?"
Merle scrunched his face up. He did that whenever he was thinking.
"I don't remember, mommy…but I liked it!"
We eventually pulled into our driveway. The garage was already occupied with Will's "work in progress" – a truck that he has been "fixing" for over five years now. Merle helped me take in the groceries and then went off play with his action figures while I put away. It didn't take me long. I then sat at the kitchen table, looking out of the window above the sink while I smoked, watching the summer's sun shine bright in the clear blue sky. It didn't look to be getting dark for a while yet, so I finished my cigarette and played catch with Merle outside.
Will wasn't back in time for tea. I didn't expect him to be. The door rapped three brash times while I placed Will's covered plate in the refrigerator for when he got home. Merle hovered in the hallway as I opened the door to three men.
"Will home?" The shortest man demanded, hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket. His head was completely shaved with tattoos scattered along his scalp. The one that stood out the most to me was two lightning bolts on the side of his head that I remembered Will had stitched on some of his jackets.
"He's working, but if y'all have a message for him, I would be more than happy to pass it along," I answered politely, eyes flicking to the two larger men who glared down at me. I felt intimidated by them. I'd never seen them before.
The shorter man gave a brief glance up at the man on his right, a small smirk lingering on the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. We got a message for him," he said, and instantly pushed his way into the house, grabbing me by the throat as he did.
He pushed me all the way into the living room while I screamed for Merle to hide. I couldn't see where he had gone and felt some relief that the men weren't interested in hurting him – they just wanted to hurt me. I endured punch after kick until my legs gave away from under me and I sprawled on the floor, continuing to take the hits. I was a pro at taking hits and kicks by now, and I prayed Merle would never be; I prayed he would never experience physical abuse.
"Why?" I pleaded through tears of pain and confusion. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Teachin'…Will…a lesson!" The short man grunted through each kick to my stomach. "Teach him…to not pay me…my money!"
My head spun. I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. What did he want with me? Why was he hurting me when Will was the one he wanted? It didn't make any sense at that moment, and it wasn't long until I blacked out, waking again only a few minutes later because of a sharp, burning sensation between my legs. I opened my swollen eyes to see the short man on top of me, thrusting vigorously as his hand squeezed my throat. This wasn't the first time I had woken to something like this, but it didn't make it any easier.
I thrashed around as wildly as I could in an attempt to stop this man from raping me, gasping for air through my tightened windpipe. I managed to get a good hit to the short man's head, in which resulted in the two men pinning my arms down throughout the last of the ordeal that felt as though it had been going on forever; the ordeal that caused the conception of my second son, Daryl Dixon.
