Chapter 1
"Wake up,little brother", Merle whispered in my ear. Startled, my eyes shot open. I hated it when my older brother did this to me. He only ever woke me up unless he had something good to tell me, which was hardly ever a good thing. Good and bad were hard to distinguish with Merle. His eighteen year old mind always seemed get him into trouble.
" This better be good, Merle," I groaned, " I swear, if this is another trick about two headed deer, then-"
"Easy now, Daryl," Merle grinned. " I just wanted to tell you dear old Daddy's out drunk again, so we can basically do whatever we want."
He turned away,then glanced back. Then he laughed.
"What?" I snapped. I got tired of all the times he screwed around with me.
" You were only six when I got you out of bed for a mutant deer" He still wouldn't stop his crooked grin.
" Your point?"
"You got some pretty darn good memory for a thirteen year old" He gave one last little chuckle, then walked away, obviously planning something very stupid. Between the two of us, I was the quicker,smarter one. He was stronger than me; sometimes he'd wrestle Dad and win. But those're the days when he isn't out drunk. Most people think of me as just a scrawny weakling. When I used to go to school, people called me a redneck because of how I talked and acted. Truth is,I didn't care how I acted around other people. They weren't my friends, so I didn't pay them any attention. I felt people didn't deserve to see my normal self, the one who knew how to write and talk properly. But I gave up on being "proper"
That was a while ago,when my mom and dad were still together, when I was actually scolded for not using proper grammar. I never took sides. All I did was lay the blame on both of them because they couldn't get themselves together after twelve years of being married. Dad had never laid a hand on Mom, and neither had she on him. But there was one month last summer where all it was was arguing. Day after day,the yelling would continue. They always had something to say about each other, something to complain about. But my dad took it too far one day. He got drunk with his buddies at the local bar. I never did figure out how he drove home safely,as drunk as he was. Probably one of his smart friends who knew better than to blow his money on alcohol. As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed dishes sitting in the sink. This set him off, and he went crazy on my mother, calling her worthless trash, villainizing her with every little flaw she had. She almost killed herself that day. Luckily I saw her sneak out of the house with the gun.I followed her until we were at the old cemetery where some of her relatives were buried. Before she even put that gun to her head, I ran out to her,screaming at her to not lay a finger on that trigger. I had collapsed on my knees,burying my face into her shoulder as she hugged me. Her tears ran down from her cheeks onto my neck,but I didn't bother move. She told me she was sorry and would work something out with a great much that did. She ended up leaving. My father made her. He claimed she would just make me and Merle weak. I remember hating them both for not trying to fix themselves before it got that far. I never took sides. No,not at all. Until she was forced to leave. Slowly, I grew distant from my father. I guess I ought to thank him; now,I'm hardened against horrible things in my life, because none of it seems as horrible as them splitting up….