Author's note!
So this is a collab I'm doing with the fantastic hellolittlemonsterz, who is writing Carol's POV and posting this on her tumblr where she's know as mypatronusisdaryldixon, so go follow her there and here because she's awesome.
The basic storyline here was her idea and this is basically a role-reversal caryl multichap where Daryl has a daughter named Sophia and an abusive wife named Eden and Carol has a fuck up of a brother named Merle.
I'm super excited about this and I really hope ya'll enjoy.
Warning for abuse, language, references to abuse, drugs, violence and gore.
We own nothing but the shattered pieces of feels Kirkman leaves us with.
Enjoy and please review!
Chapter One: Tastes Like Blood
Are you hurting the one you love?
Bite your tongue till it tastes like blood.
Are You Hurting The One You Love- Florence And The Machine
The air in the Cherokee was thick and heavy, suffocating.
It's passengers were silent, the constant threat in Eden's glare stifling all chances for conversation as they drove down the highway, swerving to avoid abandoned vehicles and strangers waving for help. Sophia buried her face in Daryl's shirt- too scared to meet her mothers eyes, or face the horrors outside.
It was probably for the best, he decided.
Eden was in a particularly dangerous mood, her eyes cold, daring someone to challenge her as she drummed her thin, rake-like fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. She began to grind her teeth as if the distance between their miniscule suburb home and Atlanta had been put in place just to spite her.
Nevertheless, despite the insults she mumbled not quite under her breath and the times she'd suddenly shouted- her cursing startling jumpy Sophia into a near panic- things were going relatively smoothly.
By nightfall, they'd arrive at the Atlanta safe zone, the hordes of dead and diseased they'd run from far behind.
His daughter would be safe, hidden away from the mess outside behind the refugee centers walls and that was what mattered.
The other mess, Eden's harsh words, belittling stares and crippling blows, was not so easily hidden.
He shielded her from it as well as he could, handing Sophia another book he'd purchased her from the second-hand shop near the call center where he worked (the only job he'd been able to get without so much as a high school diploma behind him) and quietly directing her towards her closet-sized bedroom when he felt another storm brewing. He took whatever blows he could for her.
Once- when he'd come home late after a double shift- he'd seen Eden holding his slight, mute baby girl down against the kitchen sink, berating her, fist raised.
He'd quickly latched on to Eden's wrist, hard enough to bruise, vision swirling, angry and red as Sophia ran to her room.
She'd scoffed at him, as if he was unfit to be the dirt under her boots, like he was less than the cockroaches that skittered across the worn linoleum floor.
Just another piece of uneducated, redneck trash. Worthless.
He was nothing in her eyes, she'd made that clear long ago.
"Ya gonna hit me?" She snarled, voice lilting, mocking. "Teach me a lesson? Just like your daddy would?"
He'd released her at the mention of his father.
No. He wouldn't become that, a shadow of a man, beating his own wife into submission, forcing his child to cower at the sight of him, to dread the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. He'd promised himself years ago that he'd never stoop to his own fathers level, that he would do better.
Eden, despite being significantly shorter than him, looked down on him then, disgusted. "Figured ya couldn't do it. Piece of shit."
The next day he'd entered the office with swollen crimson scratches down his face, like the aftermath of a battle with some kind of beast.
He blamed it on their non-existant cat.
Still, as far as he knew, that was as close as Eden had ever come to harming their daughter, and he planned on it staying that way.
He saw a sign promising that Atlanta was just a dozen more miles away and finally allowed himself to relax, pressing his lips to Sophia's not-quite-asleep forehead and rubbing the small of her back, lulling her into slumber.
He felt the steady, even rise of her chest and hoped that no nightmares would plague her tonight.
She deserved to be a kid, if only for a couple brief hours and have dreams that contained nothing but fairies and princes who always showed up in the nick of time to save the damsels. She was so old for her twelve years, so much worry carved into her young face. She'd more than earned a reprieve.
Fate however, seemed to disagree.
No more than a minute after she'd fallen asleep, there was a loud thump as one of those dead things ran into their windshield.
It was a girl once, no older than sixteen, skin gray and sickly, eyes wild, bits of something stuck between broken teeth, blood dribbling from her mouth as she moaned and clung to the windshield, Sophia screaming into his shirt. Eden turned wildly in an attempt to throw it off, shouting at Sophia to shut her fucking mouth or else. Daryl mumbled softly into her ears, telling her that it was okay, they were okay while the horrified girl squeezed her eyes firmly shut.
Finally, a sudden stop threw the creature off, ramming him against the back of Eden's seat, Sophia covering her ears in an attempt to block out the awful squishing sound as they drove over the thing's head. They kept speeding ahead, scabbed and decaying hands appearing out of nowhere, attempting to grab on to the windows. Sophia trembled against him, a near inaudible whimper escaping her. It was still enough to irritate Eden.
"Shut her the hell up before I have to!"
Desperate, Daryl began to rock his terrified girl back and forth, running his hands through her hair as he shushed her, humming a simple little melody he'd enjoyed as a kid in an attempt to drown out the groans and inhuman growls of hunger outside. She quieted as the snarling fell further behind them.
Calming Eden however, proved impossible.
Hardly fifteen minutes after escaping the sudden swarm of the dead, she drove over to the side of the highway, braking suddenly enough to jostle them, Sophia wincing as her shoulders slammed against the seat in front of her. He helped her back up, nodding when she mouthed that she was fine.
He took a deep breath, prepared himself.
Eden turned around, her face a contorted grimace, eyes in their permanent scowl, looking down on them, expression one of scorn and rage.
"Why in the hell can't you shits shut the fuck up for two goddamn minutes?!"
Daryl swallowed, voice coming out shaky and dry. "She jus' got a lil' spooked is all-"
"Oh don't give me that shit!"
Sophia whined softly, like a dog that had just been given a swift kick.
He glanced at her pointedly before nodding back to Eden. "Maybe we oughta do this outside..."
"No," she snarled, long, spindly fingers wrapping hard around his wrist, nails drawing blood. "You're staying right here."
He flinched instinctively, unable to help it, a wide, wicked grin stretching over Eden's lips at the movement.
"Face it redneck," she sneered, hand moving to grip his jaw, nails digging in, slowly dragging down his neck, leaving bloody, pulsing scratch marks.
"Ya don't have anywheres else to go."
"Come on now! Move that piece of shit car outta my way before I get out and do it for ya'!" Merle hollered out the passenger side window, sticking his head out as far as he could and flipping a bird at the guy in front of them.
Carol couldn't see him well, but she was sure, based on the way he was hunched up behind the steering wheel of his car, that the guy had at least a good foot of height on Merle, and more than outclassed her in weight.
"Merle, shut the fuck up and sit down. We ain't got time to start fights on the damn highway!" Carol hissed at him, waiting for him to pull his head out of the window before reaching over and rolling it up.
"Girl, we ain't got time to be sittin' still on the damn highway neither, but here we are." He growled, cuffing her in the back of the head, and reaching for the bag of pills at his feet.
Merle was already out of it. He'd been popping pills since she'd picked him up at his place earlier, and she was pretty sure he'd done a couple of lines before that.
Honestly, Carol could barely remember a time when her brother wasn't stoned, or high, or drunk, or otherwise completely spaced.
"It was your damn idea to go to the fuckin' refugee center anyway. I still say we could make it out in the woods. But you just gotta go and make things so damn complicated." Carol grumbled, just as the intense line of traffic moved up a couple of spaces.
"Now you know that's not what I said. We're gonna go in there, rob a bunch of yuppies blind, and then take off. Damn, what's so fucking hard about that?"
His eyes were glassy when he looked at her, and she knew she should probably just shut up and stop arguing. Merle was a hell of a fighter as it was, and he was mean as a damn hornet when he was stoned.
Carol knew that stocking up on supplies was crucial if they wanted to live, but she didn't much like the idea of robbing a bunch of people who couldn't fend for themselves. She would never say it to Merle's face, of course, because it was a good idea, and it would be way to easy; almost like taking candy from a toddler.
There were several more aggravated minutes of silence, in which Merle counted his pills and Carol gnawed on the end of her thumb nail before Merle spoke up,
"Get out and switch sides Girly, it's my time to drive."
Stoned out of his mind? In her truck? Hell No.
"Man, you're fucked up. There ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let you drive my truck."
"Don't fuckin' argue with me, just get the fuck out of the driver's seat." He popped her in the back of the head again.
She hesitated and he did it again, this time, she flinched.
Muttering a string of obscenities, she got out of the truck, and moved around to the passenger seat. This was always how it went with Merle, even when they were younger. He ordered her around, she argued, and she got cuffed in the back of the head, or otherwise physically harassed until she listened. She'd just gotten to the point where she put up with the shit.
She vaguely remembered a time before he started going his drugs and drinking, before he moved out of their house, that they got on pretty well. He'd been a good brother, picked her up when their daddy beat her down, made her laugh, taught her to hunt, to fight, and to fend for herself.
She couldn't quite remember, but she think she had loved him; However, a few stints in juvie and a couple hits of the wrong drugs, and he turned out to be little better then their old man. Belittling, beating, and otherwise being an ass.
"Hold on little sister. We're goin' off road."
That was all the warning she got before he pulled off, around the median in the round, and down through the ditch, around all the cars stuck on the highway.
Eventually they got to a point where the active traffic stopped. The road was scattered with abandon cars, and every few miles, people asking for help, or being torn apart by disease ridden corpses.
It was sad to say she had become accustomed to the sight, but she still looked away.
Five or six of the things had clustered up in front of the truck, and Merle stomped the breaks angrily, raising his voice into an intense string of obscenities as the truck stalled. Six of them hit the side of the truck, groaning, and racking blood-covered claws against the window.
She reached for the bow and quiver of arrows behind her, but Merle was already pumping the clutch, and forcing the truck forward. The tires squealed, and as they lurched forward, several of the things fell under it. She felt the characteristic bump of something under the tire, and knew it was probably one of their skulls.
"DAMNIT MERLE YOU'RE GONNA GET US KILLED." Carol growled at him, flopping down in the seat, and crossing her arms angrily across her chest.
He would have been able to see the things had he not been drugged out, and she was sure that his habit was gonna get them both in trouble.
"Well, Sugar, if you can do better, there's the damn door!" He roared back, his glassy eyes flashing.
It was a challenge. He knew she wouldn't leave.
As obnoxious as he was, Merle was her blood, and there wasn't much, if anything that could make her leave him.
He was all she had left.
"That's what I thought."
Carol pulled her arrows up in her lap, and continued to fiddle with them, now that crisis had been averted.
It would probably be a good idea if she were to leave. It would be a lot safer, if Merle's drugs didn't drag her down, but at the same time, she knew that by having him around, she had someone that had her back.
His stash wouldn't last long, now that there was no one left to supply him, and surely, he would get his head on straight when he didn't have any other choice.
"Stop pouting now, little sister, everythin' gonna be okay. You know I got your back." It would have been, for lack of a better word, endearing, had he not started in a sneer, and ended by looking away.
'I got your back' was the closest either one of them would ever come to any positive words of emotion; but she preferred it that way.
No one had time for the distraction of gushy bullshit, and pointless words.
Those emotions were dangerous.