Chapter 1
I'll Kill Him
Things had always been bad.
But recently they had definitely been getting worse. There isn't a day that goes by now that dear old dad isn't drunk off his ass. The beatings that used to leave us bruised are now leaving us bloody and near unconscious. I try to take the brunt of it. My sister, River, might be strong but she's still just a girl. It's gotten to where she won't even talk. Not even to me. She's resorted to looks, pointing, and gestures. It's a good thing we're twins, we've always been able to understand each other.
"Daryl!", I heard my pop shout in a drunken slur from the kitchen, "get in here!"
I got up from my bed in the room I shared with my sister. She stared at me with her too large eyes that didn't quite fit her face, her body slim and rigid with worry for me. Waiting for me to tell her what to do. I raised my hand up slowly, showing her to wait there for me.
I stepped into the kitchen quietly, not making a sound, years of practice trying not to make a sound. I found our dad on the floor of the kitchen nearly passed out with a bottle of whatever liquor he could find handy. The rest of it on the floor slowly pouring out. "What the hell is all that noise I hear outside?!" he half yells, half hiccups at me.
"There's a hurricane coming. Winds picking up." I replied, trying to be heard over the noise.
My answer was never heard as I saw his head fall back to the floor and his eyes roll back in his head. I went back to my room to find my sister standing by our bed with our bags and some provisions already packed up. We had been 'talking' about what we would do for a couple of days now. Ever since we heard about the hurricane coming. We knew our dad would go for the alcohol if he found it in the kitchen. Wouldn't even question how it got there. We knew he wouldn't wonder why all of sudden he started feeling drowsy. Found the pills in our brother, Merle's, old stash. In our small town everyone knew the Dixons. It wasn't unusual for us, a couple of 15 year old kids, going in and buying a bottle now and then for dear old dad. No one looked twice.
People might wonder why we feel no remorse as we grab our things and head down to the cellar and lock the door behind us. Leaving our father passed out on the floor to face a category 4 hurricane. If I cared what people thought I might explain that I came home from my last hunting trip by myself. River wasn't feeling good that morning so I figured leaving a few hours wouldn't hurt none. Seeing as how pops had stayed out all night drinking, and still hadn't come home. We needed food and he sure as hell wasn't going to spend the government's check on us. I would explain that I came running from the edge of the woods in a panic because I heard my sister screaming. She never makes a peep. Not even when pops starts hitting her after he leaves me bloody on the floor. I would say that I found him on top of her with her shirt just below her chest and his hands trying to work their way down her sleep pants. How I knocked him unconscious with the butt of my crossbow. Dragging his overweight ass, off of my little sister. She cried for nearly two days straight, never said a word. I held her, promised her I would never let him touch her again, swore I'd kill him. She looked and me nodded and pointed her delicate finger at me and then to herself. I said, "Yeah, WE'LL kill him." She nodded her head again and laid her head back on my chest. I never break my promises.
The police found what was left of our pops in what was left of our house and an empty cellar. We left as soon as the hurricane did. My sister had the last letter my brother had sent us saying he was thinking of staying on base instead of going on leave. It also had his last known address. We would start there and never look back.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead! I just play with the characters when they let me :)
