This is a story about Daryl's wonderfully broken childhood. It may continue from this point on, with flashbacks, or it may be a bunch of one shots from various times in his life. It depends on what you'd rather see so leave me a review. Or I may just leave it as a one-shot.
Disclaimer: Of course I do not own The Walking Dead.
Warnings: Minor Adult themes(No descriptions) Ratings in the story may change depending. But will not go beyond 16+. (Mainly just for future language.)
"That was nice, Dixon." The girl practically cooed at him, Daryl resisted the urge to throw up at her overly sweet voice. He looked down momentarily at their clad bodies, physically cringing when she wrapped her tired arms around his waist.
"Wh-What are you doing?" He couldn't shove her away from him fast enough, as clambered off the bed frantically searching for his clothes.
"It's called cuddling, Dixon." She spit his last name at him, her voice quickly loosing the sweetness. That was the way girls always were around here, but he'd be damned if he was going to cuddle. "That older brother of yours didn't seem to mind it so much." He glared at her once before slipping out the door, buttoning his blue plaid shirt on the way out.
It didn't shock Daryl that she had slept with Merle; he didn't think there were many girls he hadn't slept with. Besides, he definitely didn't care enough about the girl to regret that decision for her, she had definitely over-estimated her abilities anyway, and truth be told Daryl left unimpressed.
Daryl stuck his hand in his pocket, fishing for his brother's old pocket knife, he had stolen it from Merle's room once Merle had gotten lifted by the cops for beating some guys head in, or something along those lines. Daryl hadn't asked any questions once the police came over to announce what happened, he learned a long time ago that being quiet was just the better option. He grunted in annoyance when his hands didn't rest on anything, the last thing he wanted to do was to make a return visit to little miss attitude.
He sighed, figuring he'd just have to get it later, as he made his way through the over-grown grass of his falling-apart-piece-of-shit house. He hated his house almost as much as he hated the people living in it, although currently there was only him and his mother. He tripped over a green hose frantically scooting away, calmly noting it wasn't a snake. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking that he put that away yesterday, shrugging it off and standing up. Shaking the dust off his jeans, he walked inside his house, avoiding the caving in floorboards.
"Ma, I'm home!" He called, heading to his mother's room. He knocked on the door lightly before peeking his head in, she had a few beers beside her bed, and an empty pack of cigarettes.
"Get me those ones over there will you?" She demanded, pointing to the pack up on the dresser. He handed them to her, noting that she was wearing the same clothes as when he'd seen her last. "Where were you? Y'know your brother and your father both have left me so many times, I guess it just makes sense you would too." She coughed up what sounded like her own lungs, hunching over out of pain.
"I was just busy, ma'." Daryl leaned against the door way. "Do you need anythin'?"
"Nothin'." Daryl could tell he wouldn't hear from her for the rest of the day. She would talk to him like a real mother for about two minutes a week, but after that he'd be lucky to get a hello. He shuffled out of her room tracing his hand along the wall, feeling the wallpaper cracking under fingers, past Merle's room, towards his own. He opened his door, staring at his familiarly simple room he collapsed on his broken bed, and tucked his arm behind his head. He'd spent his whole life living in this room, and there was nothing that told him even remotely of his childhood, except for a picture on his desk of him and Merle when they were younger. Daryl chuckled at the fact that they both had matching bruises on their cheeks, no doubt from their father.
"Real normal childhood there." He said to himself, listening to the sound of the fan above his head.
Please if you liked it, let me know, and leave me what you want to see.