Amy-inspired by Pure Prairie League song from the 70's
Amy, what you wanna do?
I think I could stay with you
For a while, maybe longer, if I do
Amy Taylor-her grandparents live on the same gravel road as Daryl and Merle Dixon, just outside the small town of Hickory, GA in the country. Amy's parents live in town, and Amy often spends the weekends with her grandparents. Her grandparents have horses, and the Dixon boys frequently come down to Amy's grandparents house to help her grandfather with chores around the small farm in exchange for food or a little money. Amy's grandparents feel sorry for the little boys-their father is a drunken bully, rarely working at any job long enough to decently support the family. Their mother works at the shoe factory in town to support the family but as time goes on she too begins to drink more often.
Daryl is two years older than Amy, and even at a young age seems to dote on her. She is the oldest of eventually three siblings, and is the obvious favorite of her grandparents. Although she is spoiled in the way of material things, she is a sweet child and seemingly fond of Daryl, oftentimes following him around the farm as he does his chores. Amy is small even for her age, with auburn curls and wide brown eyes and freckles.
When she is five, Amy's grandmother finds Amy and Daryl in the barn kissing. Her grandmother is horrified, yells at Daryl to go on home and don't come back until Mr. Taylor talks to him. As Daryl runs across the field toward his ramshackle house, he hears Amy's grandmother scolding Amy. "Don't you have anything to do with that Dixon boy ever again," he hears her saying, "the Dixons are trash. You can feel sorry for them, and try to help them, but you are not to be friends with them and you certainly don't go around kissing them in barns. Those boys are born troublemakers, and a boy like that will ruin your name." He stopped and hid behind a tree, peeking around the trunk to see what Amy was doing. He saw she was crying and stomping her foot. He heard her protesting to her grandmother.
"But Daryl is my friend," she insisted, stomping her foot again. About that time he saw her grandmother strike Amy with a switch she had pulled from a tree. His mouth fell open in shock. He had never seen anyone lay a hand on Amy, or raise their voice for that matter. All the Taylors were kind, and spoke in quiet, calm voices to each other. Nothing like his family, where there was constant yelling, arguing and the constant threat of physical violence from his father, more so when he'd been drinking.
At the first strike of the switch, he saw Amy was so surprised her little mouth had dropped open and she had put her little hand over her bottom. The second strike hit her across the arm and hand and Amy began screaming a blood curdling scream. Daryl clenched his fists, but dared not go back and try to stop Amy's grandmother. He knew trying to stop an adult from beating someone was useless, it usually resulted in everyone getting beaten.
Daryl watched silently, biting his thumb and pulling the skin off nervously as Amy's grandmother gave her three more strikes all while Amy kept up a blood curdling scream. When Amy tried to jerk away her grandmother had grabbed her shoulder roughly and shaken her. When Amy's grandmother had finally stopped hitting Amy had jerked away from her hold and run crying back to the house. Daryl slid back behind the tree quickly so Mrs. Taylor didn't see that he'd been watching. After holding his breath a minute, he peeked back around the trunk and saw Mrs. Taylor walking toward the house. He let out his breath and trotted toward home. He knew he'd never see Amy again. He felt bad she had gotten a whipping because of him. It had been his idea to play hide and seek in the barn, and it had been him that had kissed her. She had been surprised at first and giggled, and then she had thrown her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe, and kissed him back. That was when her grandmother had shown up. He was sure Amy would hate him now. He sighed and instead of going straight home, he headed toward a copse of trees in the next field. Merle and he had built a sort of treehouse from scraps of wood they'd scavenged and sometimes if his daddy was in a particularly bad mood, he and Merle would spend the night in the trees.
He climbed up to the little platform they'd built and laid down to study the clouds through the leaves of the trees. His chest felt tight and it hurt to breathe, but he wasn't going to cry. Merle called him a pussy and a sissy all the time because he cried when their daddy hit him. Merle hadn't cried in a long time-and that just seemed to make their daddy angrier and he would hit Merle harder. But Merle wouldn't give in. He had seen the scarring on Merle's back from the beatings. Sometimes he'd beg Merle to cry so their daddy would stop, but Merle would stubbornly shake his head and stay quiet. Lately, after a beating, Merle would run off for hours. Daryl had looked in the treefort, but Merle wasn't always there. When he next appeared, he wouldn't tell Daryl where he'd been but sometimes he had candy, once or twice he'd had cigarettes. Daryl was afraid he was stealing, and worried about what would happen if Merle got caught. Sighing, Daryl closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Daryl woke with a start. Looking around he realized he'd spent the better part of the afternoon asleep in the tree. He sat up and tried to get his bearings. The sun was low in the horizon, although in the summer nightfall didn't come until about 9. He guessed it was about suppertime, and his stomach growled loudly. He hadn't eaten since Amy's grandmother had fed him a sandwich shortly before she had caught he and Amy kissing. He knew more than likely there would be no dinner at home, and since it was a Saturday and his mom had the day off she would be drinking right along with his dad. She didn't get mean when she drank, instead she got more quiet than usual and often fell asleep while smoking and he worried that one day she'd burn the house down with all of them in it.
Daryl climbed down from the tree and stretched. He didn't want to go home, he was hungry but had no idea what to do about that. He looked up and started. Across the field ran Amy toward the copse of trees he was standing in. He stood there, silently watching her as she came closer. He saw she had a little basket with her. She ran up to him breathlessly and smiled.
"Amy," Daryl started. "I didn't mean to cause ya any trouble. I'm sorry your gramma whipped ya cuz of me," he looked down and scuffed his bare feet in the dirt. Amy held out the basket toward him.
"Here ya go," she said brightly. He looked up and took the basket.
"What is it?" he asked. She giggled.
"Well, look in it silly," she said. He pulled the little cloth off the top and saw fried chicken and rolls and some corn on the cob. His mouth fell open a little and his stomach growled louder.
"Um, thanks Amy. Is this for me?" he turned red in embarrassment. She nodded eagerly. "Won't ya get in trouble?" he asked. He would rather go hungry than cause her any more trouble.
"No," she said firmly. "I told my daddy what gramma did and he was mad. They started arguing-I've never heard daddy raise his voice to anyone, but he sure did to gramma. Then granddaddy came in and he started talking loud to both of them. Daddy and granddaddy looked at my hands and legs and gramma cried and said she was so sorry. But she said it to them, not me," Amy paused and frowned. "She said she didn't want me to be like my momma. I thought Daddy was gonna fall out when she said that. They all got real loud, so I snuck into the kitchen and got you some food and brought it out here to ya," she finished, looking proud of herself. Daryl nodded slowly. Amy hadn't said they had told her it was alright for her to talk to him or to bring him anything to eat. She had decided that for herself. He was worried when she got back she would be in worse trouble.
"Look, Amy. I 'preciate ya bringing me supper. But I don't want to get ya in any more trouble than I already have. If they tell ya not to talk to me, I understand." He tried to smile at her, but the thought of not ever talking to Amy hurt him inside. Amy shook her head and stomped her foot.
"No, Daryl Dixon, you are my friend. And no one is going to tell me that I can't talk to you. If they try to stop me and gramma tries to whip me, why I'll just run away and hide with you here." She shook her head vehemently, and her auburn curls bounced. Daryl bit his lip and sighed. Amy was only five, but he had seen from the time she was little that she was stubborn and high tempered. He didn't doubt what she said.
"Well, how bout this then," Daryl said, thinking quickly, "how bout you come see me out here in the trees when you think you can without getting in trouble? I'll stay away from the farm so you don't get in trouble there." He frowned at her, wondering if this would get her into more trouble.
Amy nodded eagerly. "It'll be our secret," she whispered. Daryl nodded as well. Amy stepped over to him and reaching up kissed his cheek softly. "Ain't nobody can tell me I can't talk to you Daryl," she whispered.