Hello Folks- This is my second story. This first chapter starts off very dark and deals with drug usage and heavy duty abuse themes.

I will get the disclaimer out of the way.

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WALKING DEAD...They belong to Robert Kirman...

So here you go...Chapter 1

Hurt

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liars chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

If I could start again
A million miles away
I will keep myself
I would find a way

It was the summer of 1990 and He was desperate. He was only seventeen years old and life was kicking his ass. There was no happiness, no joy, no love, and no comfort. All that existed in Daryl Dixon's life was hurt. His brother Merle was sitting in front of him, offering him a quick fix to make the hurt go away in the form of a needle in the arm.

"Come on baby brother. Man up and find a vein, and then no more pain. Just feels good and you don't care about nothing else." Merle told him trying to encourage Daryl to take the needle.

Daryl couldn't speak as he picked up the needle and began to tie off his upper arm. He was terrified and his hands began to shake, but he wanted everything to just go away. There was an old man living inside his young body and he was allowing his addicted older brother to lead him down a road that would destroy him. He took a deep breath and contemplated what he was about to do, Merle speaking again, "Come on Darylina, don't be chicken shit, just do it and enjoy."

Daryl took a deep breath, about to plunge the needle into his throbbing vein, but was startled by a knock on the front door. His salvation. Merle swore and grabbed the needle and drugs as Daryl removed the tourniquet on his upper arm, getting up quickly to answer the door.

As he opened the door he was greeted by a girl about his age. She was dressed in what he would call a prairie dress, no make-up or jewelry of any sort, and her hair was pulled into a tight bun. He recognized her from school and realized she was the girl that lived next door to him. Her father was the preacher at the local Pentecostal church and had visited the Dixon house a few times over the years. The last time the man had come over to invite them to church, Daryl's father ran him off the property with a shotgun. That's why seeing the girl on his front porch had been a bit of a shock. He couldn't imagine her father would allow her to come over to the house by herself.

"Um, Hi Daryl…we don't talk much, and I reckon that's my fault, but my Dad wanted me to invite you to a revival at church tomorrow night. After the service we are having a dinner and thought you and your brother might want to visit." She said nervously.

Normally he wouldn't have given her the time of day, but she had a nice warm smile and eyes full of life. Considering the fact that he was just about to shoot himself up with heroin, he thought this was a nice change of pace. He suddenly was trying to recall her name; "It's Trinity isn't it?" He asked not quite sure that he had it right.

"Yes it is. It is nice to finally meet you after all these years. Look, I know going to church is probably the last thing you want to do, but it really isn't that bad. The music is pretty good and the food afterwards is even better. So just think about it. I don't want to push you to do something you don't want to, so if you can make it that's great, but if not, I understand." She said.

That was the most he had ever heard the girl speak. What he actually liked most about the interaction was the fact that she actually would speak "to" him and not "at" or "down" to him. Everyone that Daryl ever dealt with would talk to him like a worthless piece of shit. He had decided it was much easier to keep everything too himself than even try to relate to anyone his own age. They all saw him as the white trash Dixon boy that had a drunk for a father and a Hell Raising addict for a brother. None of them had a clue about the Hell that Daryl lived in. But this sweet girl talked to him like he was someone who mattered.

"What time does it start?" He asked.

"Seven tomorrow night." She said.

"Ok, thanks I might try to come." He told her. Would he really try to go to church voluntarily? Five minutes ago he was about to plunge a needle in his arm and now he was thinking about going to church.

"Well that would be awesome. I hope I see you there Daryl." She said as she awkwardly reached out and shook his hand.

"See ya." He said.

He closed the door as she left and headed back over to her house. The few times Daryl had met her father he had been impressed with how friendly the man was. He had a genuine sincerity to him that he didn't pick up from many people. What impressed him the most was that her father never seemed to judge him because of who his family was. Dixon's didn't have a good name in this area.

He had lived in the tiny town of Clayton Georgia his entire life and his family had a less than a stellar reputation going back several generations. They were known for lawlessness, fighting, drinking, killing, and any other violent crime you could think of. Daryl's grandfather had died in prison after murdering two revenue agents that had stumbled on him tending to his still. The crime had rocked the county back in the late fifties and forever tainted the Dixon name. It was a black cloud that Daryl could never seem to get out from under.

Merle could see Daryl deep in thought so he shouted at the boy, "What the fuck boy. Get over here and let's do this."

"Changed my mind. Keep your fucked up shit to yourself. Can't believe I almost let you talk me into doing that shit." Daryl said with conviction.

"You ain't really seriously thinking about going to that Holiness church tomorrow night are you? All them religious nuts speaking in tongues and lying hands all over you. Ain't nothing but a bunch of Hocus Pocus and a way to control you and your money." Merle said.

"Well it beats the shit out of staying around here hungry one more night. I'm sick of eating Raman noodles and Spam. Ain't no damn groceries in this house and I ain't got a dime to buy any." Daryl said.

"Quit your bitching baby bro and get a fucking job." Merle said flippantly.

"First of all, I got school to finish, and I only got one more year and I will have my diploma. Second of all, won't no one legitimate hire a Dixon around here thanks to the fuck ups you and Dad have pulled." Daryl told Merle.

"Don't go crying to me. Finishing school ain't gonna get you nowhere Darylina. What the hell you thinking?" Merle said chiding his younger brother.

"Look, just because your twenty eight years old and haven't done shit with your life don't mean I gotta be the same way. My grades are decent enough I could maybe go to college and get the hell out of this miserable town." Daryl said.

"Nope, ain't got the money, and once they find out your background you are screwed. It's just you and me brother. Get those pipe dreams out of your worthless head. You need to kiss that dream good bye. You should quit school, get a job, and buy Old Merle some groceries. If Pa heard you talking about going to college he would beat the shit out of you. You need to man up and get a job."

Daryl sighed knowing it was pointless to have this conversation with Merle and he knew that Merle was probably right. There just didn't seem to be any escape from this hell of a life he was living.

"Now baby bro If I was gonna give you some advice I would say go to that Church tomorrow night, sing your sob story to that preacher and see if you can get you some of that little girl of his. Them quiet church girls are real hellcats in the sack. You could pop that cherry and she would love you forever." Merle taunted.

"Your sick. You know that Merle. It ain't like that she was just being nice probably because her Daddy put her up to it. I'm gonna go and check it out. It beats the shit out of staying here and listening to your sorry ass. And another thing, don't ever try to talk me into touching that shit again or I will kick your ass." Daryl told him with seriousness in his voice.

Daryl stormed off and went into his room and slammed the door behind him. Merle just shook his head and chuckled to himself. Daryl wasn't going anywhere ever because this town had him and it wasn't going to let him go.

He let himself fall back onto his old twin bed with the threadbare sheets. Daryl didn't think there was anything he owned that didn't have a hole in it. Literally Daryl had practically nothing to his name. A few pairs of ripped jeans, a couple of old T-shirts, and one dress shirt that one of the old ladies down the street gave to him when his father wasn't around. The women were always giving him sad looks that left him embarrassed.

The entire neighborhood was painfully aware that his father had been abusing Daryl since his mother died seven years earlier. There had been a call to social services at one point during the early years after his mom passed, and the results after the visit were not good. Daryl had been too scared to say anything about the abuse to the social worker and she gave up and left saying that there wasn't anything they could do. After that event Gene Edward Dixon reeked havoc on the neighbors trying to find out who made the call. He suspected it was the Preacher next door, but couldn't ever prove it. After the threats that had been put out by Daryl's father were well known, no further calls were made.

The beatings were bad when he was young, but they had become worse as Daryl got older. Daryl was strong, but small for his size. The lack of nutrition he had received his entire life had caught up with him. He would fight back for all he was worth, but Gene Dixon always managed to defeat him. His father shot down every accomplishment Daryl had achieved in his young life, dismissing them as a joke. Often followed by taunts of being called weak, girly, or a pussy. Daryl hated his father and he unfortunately would carry permanent scars from all of his father's "life lessons" to the grave with him. That was just the tip of the iceberg of the scars that Daryl would carry until his death.

Daryl pulled off his shirt and cut the light out in the room. He turned on the radio and listened to AC/DC blaring out of the distorted old speakers. He looked out of his broken bedroom window and could see a light on next door. He wondered what Trinity was doing right now. She was probably sitting at the table eating a warm meal and talking about the events of the day with her family. Daryl envied anyone who got to enjoy those luxuries in life. The only luxury Daryl ever enjoyed was solitude. And the only reason he enjoyed it was because it meant he was getting beaten, picked on, or worse.

He reached under his bed and pulled out a pack of cigarettes he had swiped from Merle. He leaned back in his bed and lit up the cigarette and inhaled deeply. As he lay there he began to think about the desperate mistake he almost made tonight. He hated his fucking life, and he was too chicken shit to just end it and be done. As he lay there and began to think about everything he had been through and was currently going through, tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. Daryl Dixon was a broken man at seventeen years old and didn't know if it would ever get better.

Little did Daryl know that the girl next door was going through her own personal Hell. She envied Daryl and the freedoms that he had compared to her prison-like home life. Her mother controlled everything in her life, how she dressed, who she spoke too, how much time she read her Bible, even what she was allowed to eat. Trinity Page Murdoch was seventeen and had less freedom than some four-year-olds she knew. If she tried to rebel then there would punishment for being disrespectful. Hours forced on her knees in prayer for forgiveness, food withheld for days, being locked in her room, or the whippings on her bare back and legs.

Trinity wanted to tell her father what she was being put through, but he already had so much on him in his role as Pastor at the church. He had taken on the burden of each of his parishioners and she didn't want to put any more stress on him. She often worried about her father's health and blamed her mom for pushing him so much. Where her father was a good man and a loving Saint, Quinn Andrews Murdoch was the Spawn of Satan, all in the name of Jesus.

So What do you think so far? Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW for me.

Thanks-

Missy

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