Excerpt from Beth's journal - Spring - At the prison
Daddy says everyone has secrets. Some keep secrets to hide what they've done wrong. Some keep secrets because they are afraid or ashamed. Some because, at times, life's too hurtful to talk about.
I've known Daryl Dixon since the day he rolled onto the farm riding that motorcycle like he didn't care how much noise it made. I didn't think he cared about anything at first. We didn't talk much then, because Daddy didn't want me making friends with people he didn't want around. But that didn't stop me from watching them all. Daryl was always moving, wary, on the prowl for some reason like that big tom cat that used to rule the barn before…well, just before. I remember too, how Daryl always hung back just a bit from the group. Isolated. Like he knew he didn't belong. Whenever we had a gathering, usually for a burial, (there were too many of them) he always stood on the edge of the group, separated by a few feet. He was quiet and respectful, but as soon as things were over he melted away, like he'd never been there. And after the barn, after Momma and that little girl, he took himself completely away.
I shoulda been more like him back then. I was stupid thinking suicide was the way. I thought I'd suffered enough that I had a right to choose to end my life. He suffered more and never made that choice.
I knew about the scars. Saw them when I brought Daddy water and bandages to bind the wound on Daryl's side after his accident. Daddy knew what the scars were from. Daryl never talked about them. Never used his past as an excuse to be weak. It was his secret and I knew enough to respect that.
If he ever opens up and wants to talk. I'll be there to listen.