Let me remind you guys, I'm doing this from a character view point. I don't feel like this toward any one character. There is a lot of Merle mouth in this chapter. I only have nine reviews, not fifteen, but this chapter is a gift. I seriously won' update again until we get to fifteen reviews! Please guys, I love reviews, they make me happy 3


Merle sighed, allowing himself the small victory. His brother hadn't noticed and he'd kept his cool. He lined up another column, making it longer this time, quickly folded the dollar bill and took the whole line in one go. He sat back, the buzz hitting him, fingers drumming on the steering wheel and damn, this was some good shit. His head was swimming, his veins were singing and Merle Dixon was so far gone. He sat there in the front seat of that piece of shit car, cocaine flowing through his system and, for no apparent reason, he began to cry.

Large, fat crocodile tears that seeped down his face and settled in the scruff on his chin. He was twenty five years old, a fucking man for Christ's sake, and he was blubbering like a baby. The cab of the truck was suddenly too close, the walls were creeping in and he fumbled with the handle, falling out of the cab and into the puddle he'd been assanine enough to park next to.

Merle Dixon simply sat there, in a puddle next to his truck, high off his ass, sobbing like a baby for how long, he didn't know.

"Um, excuse me sir, are you gonna be alright?" Merle looked up and there was a concerned looking woman with soft blonde hair and baby blue eyes. She bent beside him, offering him a red handkerchief to wipe the muck from his face. "Are you hurt? Are you okay, sir?"

Merle's mouth felt too much like mush to answer, so he just nodded and wiped his face down. He frowned, handing it back as the traitorous tears finally subsided. He snuffed once, before looking away in humiliation.

"M'fine girlie." He growled, standing up, trying to ignore how wet his cargos and boots were, it was quickly getting uncomfortable. "Mind your own fuckin' business!"

The woman looked like she'd been slapped and stood up, stiffly, tucking that handkerchief into her purse. "I'm glad you're okay," was her stiff reply, before she turned and went into the hospital, leaving him there without a second though. He got back into the truck, angry and bitter.

Daryl was there, smoking a cigarette and getting into the truck, a far off look on his face.

"Bout damn time." Merle slammed the door and gunned the engine. "The hell took you so long, boy?"

Daryl didn't answer and Merle sighed, turning into traffic. His high was fading fast, they never seemed to last as long these days, for whatever reason.

As he drove down the congested highway he let his thoughts fall back to that girl, licking his lips subconsciously. She was a hot young thing, maybe Daryl's age and Merle would sure as fuck like to show her a few things in the sack. She looked like she was itching for a good time, sassy bitch probably needed a stiff one. He lit a laced smoke and tried to let off steam, guilt plaguing him.

He felt guilty. It wasn't her fault he was an angry, strung-out junky. That was his fault, no one else had control over that. He should've gotten clean a long time ago, he should've done a lot of things a long time ago.

Daryl was quiet and Merle decided not to say anything, just parked the car in front of their trailer and got out, grinding the butt of his smoke into the dirt before heading inside.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and planted his ass in front of the TV, cracking it open and taking a long drink. Glancing at his phone, he realized he needed to be to work in five hours and sighing. Slamming the beer, he headed into his room, pulling off his shirt, kicking off his boots and removing his belt he dropped into bed, setting the alarm before falling into a very thick sleep.


I do not think of Beth as she was thought of in this chapter, I do not condone or recommend doing drugs and none of the characters in the story so far are my own, except the one nurse.