.:. Two weeks later .:.
It was mid-day when Daryl stomped out of the woods and headed for home, his eyes heavy and his stomach rumbling. Felt like he hadn't eaten in days even though Merle had left him some fried chicken from KFC just the day before. He'd found it cold on top of the stove, wrapped up in greasy wax paper. It had surprised the hell out of him considering he hadn't talked to his brother in days.
Daryl had been halfway avoiding Merle for weeks. He was starting to see too much of their daddy behind Merle's cold, hard eyes and he didn't like it. Not one bit. It wasn't the Merle he remembered.
Fortunately, Billy Williamson had been hanging around a lot. He occupied a good bit of Merle's time which meant Daryl didn't have to.
Of course Daryl knew all about Billy. Knew he was the closest thing their little backwoods town would ever get to a drug kingpin. And he knew why Merle was up the guy's ass 24/7. It didn't bode well for Merle's parole but Daryl kept his mouth shut because Billy was alright by him.
Sure, he was a slimy bastard with a rebel flag tattooed on one arm and George Jones's face on the other but he'd gotten Daryl a job in his father-in-law's garage. Had him changing oil and charging little old ladies double for shitty brake jobs. It wasn't much of a job but it got him out of the house and that's just where he wanted to be lately.
It had its drawbacks though. Billy's pregnant wife, a blonde woman named Suzette, had taken to hanging around the garage whenever Daryl was working. She'd sit there watching him work for hours and she was always talking. Talking, talking, talking about nothing. She brought him lunch damn near every day too. The woman was always trying to feed him. And if she wasn't trying to feed him, she was trying to touch him. It was weird. He tried to keep as much distance as possible between his backside and her groping hands. He didn't need that shit.
Daryl hadn't seen or heard a thing out of Tina since Merle had kicked her out on her ass and he was starting to realize it was for the best. Merle had told him all about her and Billy had confirmed everything. Billy even told him that she'd tried the same thing with his little brother just a few weeks before and Daryl didn't figure he had any reason to lie about it.
Merle had berated himself endlessly for being the one to set them up. Said he "rued the day" he'd introduced them and swore he hadn't considered her reputation for clinging onto any man that would have her like a fucking kudzu vine. Said he'd never figured his weird-ass baby brother would hold her attention.
Daryl had a hard time understanding what the big fucking deal was, why his brother had been so bothered by the whole situation. Maybe it had something to do with all the cocaine floating around their house. Merle was a pit bull when he was coked up.
So when Daryl wasn't in the garage, he made sure he was in the woods. He was sick of watching his brother snort shit and even sicker of hearing him bitch.
As he stepped into their yard, he saw Merle on his ass in the dirt next to his old bike. He could hear him cussing; hear the clink of metal on metal as he fiddled with his wrench. He'd been trying and failing to get the Triumph running again and Daryl knew it was starting to piss him off.
He could see the moment his brother heard his footsteps. Merle tensed and turned to look for him. Daryl acknowledged him with a nod and headed for the steps, determined to find himself something to eat and avoid any conversation. But he saw Merle climb to his feet reluctantly and rub his dirty, greasy hands clean on his jeans.
"C'mere, little brother," Merle grunted, shading his eyes with his hand, "Need to talk to you."
Daryl stalked over with a heavy sigh, hitching his crossbow up on his shoulder.
Merle had a strange expression on his face. He was chewing his bottom lip, dropping his hand so he could stare up at the cloudless, indigo sky above them.
"Well?" Daryl pressed him impatiently, kicking at a rock with the toe of his boot.
"Guess I might as well just say it," Merle paused as his eyes found Daryl's again, "Cops found that Tina girl dead last night. Think she was murdered."
Daryl felt the shock of that statement force the air right out of his lungs. He tried to take a step back but Merle grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him.
"Now, I got some bad news," Merle told him brusquely, "I heard she'd been talking about you a lot around town, to her friends. And those dumb bitches all got big mouths so the cops are probably gonna come out to talk to you."
Merle's words hung heavy in the air between them as the shock continued to radiate through Daryl. He felt chilled to the bone even though the sun was warm on his back. Stupidly, he found himself wondering what she'd been saying about him and then quickly shook his head, trying to physically shake the thoughts away. She was dead now. Gone. It didn't matter.
Merle's tone was deadly serious, his fingers digging into Daryl's flesh as he continued, "You just got to keep your mouth shut, you hear me? Don't tell them a damn thing. I've already got you an alibi all worked out so you ain't got to worry."
"What you mean an alibi? I was out in the woods all night-"
"No, you were at home with me all day and all night," Merle cut him off, raising his brows, "Can't prove you was in the woods, can you? But you got witnesses that'll say they saw you at home. Billy's willing to tell them he was out here too if they ask."
"But why do I need to lie? I didn't do nothing!" Daryl protested helplessly, his skull suddenly throbbing like someone had taken a hammer to it.
"Think about it, boy. She was trash. You're trash. They don't give a fuck about truth or justice or any of that shit around here. They just want to get that fucking case closed so it's better to be safe than sorry, ain't it?"
Daryl knew he was right. He'd seen it happen before in their small town. It was always people just like them who couldn't afford a decent lawyer. People from the wrong side of the tracks who couldn't or wouldn't put up much of a fight. The cops wouldn't hesitate to throw his ass in jail and leave him to rot for something he never did. People like him and Merle were expendable.
His shoulders slumped, the crossbow tumbling to the ground with a thump as he fought to choke down the desperate sob that was suddenly clawing at his throat. Merle pulled him closer and he struggled against him, expecting another sock in the jaw. But Merle just wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him tight.
"Go ahead and cry if you gotta," Merle's voice was gruff but it reminded him of days gone by.
It had been a long time since Daryl had cried in front of his brother and in that moment, he remembered that night with startling clarity. He'd only been about six and Merle had been around 15, maybe 16. Their mother had still been alive then. Daryl remembered lying awake in bed all night, listening to her and his daddy fussing and fighting. They were always angry, always at each others throats.
He remembered the sound of glass breaking against the wall and then Merle stumbled into his bedroom, just in from a night out with his friends. His nose was broken, cocked to the side at a weird angle. Daryl remembered pointing it out to him and then watching as Merle very calmly reached up and shifted it back into place without even flinching.
Daryl remembered how it poured bright red blood all down Merle's face and onto the blue-striped sheets. Merle had climbed between them with him with a groan, throwing his heavy arm over Daryl's shivering body. He'd smelled like beer and some kind of funny, sweet smoke. Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin with every thud against the wall, every muffled scream, but Merle was there to tell him to just cover his ears and be quiet.
But then the door to Daryl's bedroom flew open, banging against the wall with a crack like a gunshot. Merle had been on his feet before their daddy reached the bed. Daryl remembered cowering under his sheets as he heard the sound of a scuffle, heard Merle saying "Not tonight, old man", and then he'd covered his ears with his pillow.
When he'd emerged, sobbing, he'd seen Merle standing over their father. Merle hadn't even looked up when he told him, "Shut up. Crying's for pussies."
They'd sent him away to juvie after that night. Without anyone there to protect Daryl, things had gotten worse and worse. But every night after, even when his daddy would carve him up good, he'd just bury his face in his pillow and repeat Merle's words over and over until the urge to cry disappeared.
But now he couldn't do it. He just let himself go, holding onto Merle like a drowning man clinging to a life raft as he imagined his future collapsing down to the size of a 6 by 8 cell.
"That ain't gonna happen, little brother. I ain't gonna let it, you hear me?" Merle told him softly, soothingly, close to his ear, "Ain't nobody gonna fuck with my little brother as long as I'm alive."
Merle let him cry like a pussy, soaking the shoulder of his t-shirt without saying another word.
When his tears dried up, Daryl's head felt so much clearer. His brain wasn't threatening to explode out of skull anymore and he could think again. He wiped the snot off his face with his sleeve, ducking his head to look up into his brother's dark eyes.
And he had to take a step backwards with the force of the memory that slammed headlong into his gut.
The sound of Merle's hand colliding with Tina's face. Her tears, her blood…
His jaw dropped, his chapped lips moving uselessly as the words stuck like fish bones in his throat. Now that the possibility was in his mind, he couldn't escape it. He had to know, couldn't live with himself if he didn't ask.
Merle's eyes narrowed ominously. Daryl could almost feel him in his head, probing around and seeing what he was thinking.
"You got something you want to ask me, boy?"
Daryl tried to wet his lips, his throat suddenly dry as sandpaper, "Did-did you…"
His voice gave out on him as his heartbeat roared in his ears.
Merle sniffed, his gaze boring right through Daryl, "You asking me if I killed her?"
Daryl pressed his lips together tight, unable to look his brother in the eye.
"What do you think?" Merle asked in a strange voice.
Hitching his shoulders up ever so slightly, Daryl tried to take a step back but Merle's grip tightened on his shoulders again.
Daryl could hear his brother's teeth grinding against each other in the silence and pictured them grating down into powder in Merle's mouth.
"Don't reckon it matters what I tell you then, does it? Looks like you've got your mind made up about your big brother," Merle's voice was tight as he reached out to smack Daryl's still-aching jaw to get his attention, "You just keep your mouth shut like I told you, you hear me?"
His voice softened as he continued, "You know ol' Merle's gonna take care of your sorry ass. Always have."
Merle clapped him on the shoulder roughly as he released him. Without another word he turned and walked away, the white mid-day sun beating down on his shoulders.
Daryl watched his brother disappear into the hazy distance and wondered if Merle really was his alibi or if he was Merle's.