TTWH 14

i.

Merle

I somehow disengaged himself from his brother clinging to me, even in his sleep and slipped out our tent without waking him up. Poor bastard was exhausted and I had time to regret involving him in my sordid revenge – letting my baby brother descend to our level. When all I'd ever tried to do was protect him, deal with the shit out there so that he wouldn't have to.

I'd failed. Miserably.

I knew what we'd done haunted him but at the time I just hadn't stopped to think – really wanted to visit the old 'Eye for an eye, Tooth for a tooth' justice on the piece of shit Jones who had had hurt him the most. The only form of justice that the Dixons had always subscribed to.

But rape? Rape for rape? I shrugged. Wasn't like I hadn't done it before although never before I got mixed up with the Governor and his men...told myself I didn't want to do it at first but in the end I'd joined in just as enthusiastically as the others. I wondered that it had been such a huge leap for me – the first prisoner had been a woman when all the time I kept seeing Tammy's face, hearing Tammy screaming but it hadn't stopped me. I justified it to myself that if I didn't, they'd see me as prey because I was different and different usually being dangerous – would turn on me. I'd seen them pounce on Richie, some dumb, idealistic 20 year- old something kid who had refused to join in and turn him into a slut to service them. He hadn't lasted long, got used up pretty quickly.

After that, the gang-rapes got easier – especially as they made sure that they didn't know their names - even the next woman and the next man and the next man and the next woman...so on and so on until I couldn't even remember. And the the next until they got used up and discarded. When their eyes went dead and they no longer cried or begged. Just meant they were no fun any more – because where's the fun in raping a living corpse? That usually meant fed to the Walker-pits outside the town. Men were the easiest of all although I'd always hated fags...joined in, even started group gay-bashing outside the bars at home with no problem and now there I was, fucking men. I realised now my rampant homophobia had been a kind of camouflage to cover up my unbrotherly thoughts of my sweet, baby brother and the things I would like to do with him. But he'd been the only the one. Anyway, my feelings for Daryl had never seemed to be anything to do with just sex – I told myself they were purer. Were more than just about the fucking. Especially as there'd been no chance in hell of him reciprocating but him being forbidden to me in more ways than one had only made him even more alluring until that one time recently and I still couldn't believe that he had. Had he been harbouring the same feelings for me all this time? No, I couldn't really believe that. It was just the high of dispatching our enemies got to us – well more for me than him. Especially when he'd stopped me in mid-fuck – I'd looked to him to provide me with my release even though it was sick. I was also frustrated and wanted to make him pay for his interruption. But I told myself I would never have pushed it – not if he had really refused. Would never do it to him- even if I could have done. He was more than capable of fighting me off, whatever the group thought. Like I was the Pied Piper and he was under my thrall or some stupid shit like that. Like he didn't know his own mind.

But then a fuck was just a fuck- a necessary biological release... and pure pleasure...didn't have anything to do with sexual orientation. The poor bastards we used were no more than safety valves -so the Governor had confided in me – to release the stress and pressures from surviving the Zombie Apocalypse and risking their lives every day to keep the townspeople of Woodbury safe.

It was our privilege and reward. To use these worthless pieces of humanity as they wanted. They were our enemies – potential threats because they'd already betrayed us and worst of all – dumb enough to get captured by us. So, they deserved everything they got.

So, he told me and I told myself.

But then I saw Daryl there being mauled by them, fighting back – even getting in a punch or kick, acting tough but terrified all the same. Oh - I could see it in his eyes but his fear was well-hidden as usual. And I was about to join in! Ignore the pleading in them, begging his big brother to save him, not to hurt him as well.

And every time I told myself this, I saw my father's red face as he grunted on top of me and the smell of his rancid whiskey breath overpowering me.

Or Tammy. Or when I was feeling the self-loathing and disgust in full force, my brother's face would appear, glaring at me with narrowed eyes and mouth twisted in contempt in that tell-tale Dixon sneer. Telling me that he would never had done those things.

It was our privilege and reward. It happens in war all the time.

So our boss told us when he came to join in with a particular succulent morsel.Turned out the slut was only 14 – not barely legal and that got to me. I'd gone away and retched in secret afterwards. Just some well-built youth – bad for him. Had the Governor known and been playing us? There was a twinkle in his eye when he'd told us there had been some mistake and in future, we should avoid 'using' children. Under-age sluts were out of the question – we had certain standards to uphold. I could have sworn that he looked directly at me then and that he knew.

Some idiot chuckled nervously at this and Philip must have taken it as sarcasm because he'd jerked his head at the back-up at the door and they'd dragged him out. A lean man who reminded me of a weasel, the way he kissed my ass and our boss's. Blurting out apologies and explanations did him no good as the rest of us looked on coldly, no-one making a move to save him – none of us had particularly liked Reggie – if it had been jail (the similarities at that time escaped me because no-one leaves) he would have been everyone's bitch. And willing too, no doubt. Besides, it was a given that he'd either end up in the show on Saturday night or in the Walker-pits in the morning.

I could have sworn that was when my boss smirked at me and that's when I started to fall out of favour. But I didn't know it at the time.

Sick fuck.

Had he joined in with Darlena? Of course – wouldn't have been able to resist my brother. When even I hadn't been able to and I felt a thrill of hate pass through me then for the bastard.

Daryl hadn't said – had been pretty with-holding of the full details – no matter how hard I tried to get them from couldn't bear to tell me and wanting to protect me, if I know my brother.

Then why did I feel sick when I remembered what we did? When a random face of one of the unnamed prisoners popped into my head? And why had I never done it before, not even to Daryl?

Oh, yes my brother knew he'd always secretly wanted him but he hadn't known what our Daddy did to me, was that a reason or a mere excuse?

I shook my head. Before the whole world ended, under normal circumstances I would never have done that shit. Couldn't do it to Daryl.

Once upon a time.

Couldn't do it to anyone. Especially to him.

Even though he adored me once upon a time and probably would have forgiven me even that.

But he would never forgive me for doing it to others. I remembered how he looked at me then when he'd declared that he wouldn't have done it. Even if it meant his death...or worse.

Dixons don't do regret or self-pity. I knew that if the group knew what I'd done...Rick and a few of the others suspected but had no proof. Never understand and I would have to leave them, maybe Daryl if he chose the group over me. He'd changed and I could take his undivided loyalty to me for granted.

It wasn't going to change anything- I couldn't risk Daryl being forced to face that dilemma or the group finding out that I'd been a very bad boy in Woodbury. I'd do anything to stop that happening – putting down that Spic piece of trash would be nothing. He was scum.

I knew what he'd done ...what he was. Why the others had turned on him, I didn't know.

I could guess – he'd drawn the short straw according to that old goodie – probably subconscious – racial prejudice. Or perhaps they were simply out of options – got horny and had chosen him to serve their needs. Though why they couldn't just have a mutual jerk-off session escaped me.

Or maybe he'd done something stupid- betrayed them somehow or tried to leave. The ultimate crime because nobody left the group – or the Governor unless they were already dead.

I really didn't care.

Because nobody left. But I had...And Daryl had paid the price.

I would do anything to keep my brother and my secret. They already looked down at me as if I was something Daryl dragged in...

So, I crept along the way to the medical tent. Praying that I would be alone to carry out my business – hard and fast and that my brother wouldn't wake up and miss me. Come and try to stop me, no doubt.

I had to put an end to Martinez. Protect Daryl and myself.

Him first – he'd always be first.

…

ii.

Daryl

I woke up with a start. The bad dreams that had eased off were back with a vengeance – except it wasn't that bunch of laughing hyenas – it was my brother. For some reason, I was the shy, lanky 18 year old again but he hadn't got any younger- same age now, just as cocky and experienced. Not that there was a time that I remembered he wasn't. He'd caught me unawares as I was sleeping and was pinning me to my bed with a knife at my throat to keep me subdued. 'No!' I screamed, maybe even subconsciously hoping Dad would come running in and put a stop to it. I didn't understand where this was coming from – my brother wasn't even drunk, I couldn't smell any alcohol on his breath. And he wasn't worried about the volume of my screams and protests. Must be high on some shit then – no other way in hell would he be trying to do this to me. Or he was so bold because he knew Dad was down the bar.

'Jus' lie still and relax, little brother.' He crooned while he kissed my cheek and I whimpered in revulsion. I badly wanted to wipe away his saliva I felt so dirty but I couldn't move.

'Get the fuck off me! No!'

He growled and cuffed me.

'Ya don't want to do this, Merle! Ya can't!'

I was scared to fight back but I made it as hard as I could for him to pull down my jeans and not wanting to risk cutting me, he threw it to the carpet, I'd give him that. Yet every time I got a bite or a kick in, he'd cuff me back down. He had the element of surprise and greater body weight on his side while I was still a skinny teenager. He worked out with weights regularly. I heard him snarl and hiss like a wild animal in frustration when I just wouldn't lie down and take it until giving up, he finally punched me so hard that I blacked out. I woke up to find my big brother inside me! With the knife back at my throat. It hurt like hell apart from the shock and disgust of it and I couldn't help out letting out an undignified sob.

'Fuckin' little pussy.' He hissed. 'Stop cryin' Ain't ya ever fucked a guy before?' His tone mocking as if he couldn't believe it. When he and Dad were the biggest homophobes around.

I didn't need to shake my head, he knew I hadn't.

'Jus' lie still for Ole Merle. I'm gonna show ya how good it feels.'

'NO! Jus' stop, sick fuck!'

He took no notice and traced my throat lightly with the point of the blade. Reminding me who had all the power here and instead of easing me into things, he was fucking raping me! I didn't want any of it – didn't want him – well, not in that way. Then he drew the knife over my throat but not deep.

'Ouch! That fuckin' hurts!' I screamed in shock at the sting, panicking when I felt the trickle of blood making my skin itch and when he didn't let me go, 'He'll kill ya for this.'

He laughed as if he knew I would never tell and threw the knife carelessly away, now that he'd got what he wanted. Cut me too.

'Fuck you! Jus' stop!...Please, Merle. I don't wanna...!

'Sh...ya'll start to like it in minute.'

'No I won't! Ya gonna go to hell for this!' But then...

Oh the horror and the guilty pleasure. He let me bleed a while while he carried on punishing me without mercy before he lapped up the blood, hushing me and it felt surprisingly good. Then he kissed an old scar lingeringly on my back hard and I gasped and squirmed. That was the beginning of it - as my body somehow adjusted to accommodate him and I started to anticipate every thrust pounding me into the bed so that the springs seemed to screech in protest in sympathy. Yet the pain of feeling like I was being impaled on a spike from behind gradually faded into unbelievable pleasure. Even though I hadn't wanted any of it!

I sensed him smirk at the change in my responses as he reached down to fondle me between my legs and my moans and gasps grew louder. Timing his strokes with his thrusts. Before he changed the rhythm without warning – to caress me randomly even while he was pounding me into the bed. And then to stroke me in between thrusts and back again but so I never knew when. It drove me crazy.

'Bastard! Stop changin' the rhythm!' I turned to him furiously while he laughed and only kept on surprising me even more by changing his angle and the depth of them as well as his pace. Keeping me guessing even more. He slipped his tongue in my mouth even before I finished cursing him. Our tongues swirled and probed each other's carefully for a moment. He smugly carried on overwhelming me with stimulation as he kissed me everywhere he could reach and everywhere his lips touched left a trail of fire on my skin. Making me feel that I might pass out again from the relentless onslaught of the various blissful sensations he was giving me.

I had to admit it was the best screw I'd ever had – even topping the girls at school who thought I was cute and kind of emo in a cool way and got turned on by my scars and let me. Of course I'd lied about how I got them said they were from street fights – getting stabbed by a rival gang-member sounded much cooler than 'My Dad did it.' But even the best of them didn't even match up. But damn if I was going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know it.

My moans were coming deep and noisy now but during the whole thing, his as well but every now he would snarl and nibble my ear. The pleasure kept on mounting until I almost couldn't take it any more and I knew that we were both going to come soon.

'Merle!' I groaned – breathing fast, heart thundering in my ears. Partly in relief that it had only been a wet dream – (OK- starring my own brother – how sick was that?) patting around in the dark, aware that the nightmare had given me a raging hard-on. Checking my throat for blood – was almost disappointed when my fingers came away dry. Jesus – did someone hear me? Was I making those noises out loud?

'Fuck you. You ain't so special.' I was still half-asleep, hadn't registered what Merle gone meant. 'Ya can get those ideas out ya head 'cos it ain't never gonna happen ever again. It's...jus' sick!'

There was no answer and my sleep and sex-addled brain started to awake slowly.

'Merle! NO!' I cried out for a very different reason. I realised where he'd gone and to do what.

'Ya stupid, fuckin' asshole!' He must have recognised the prisoner, was worried about him exposing him and his sordid secret. The despicable things he'd done in Woodbury.

Proof not just suspicion. They'd lynch him for sure if they prisoner spoke – most still hadn't forgiven him for what had happened to Maggie. Rick always looked at him askance.

I got up and dressed as quickly as I could, trying to distract myself. The problem at hand was more than enough to do that.

Part of me wondered if the swarthy man had also participated before he became prey instead. If he did, why should I care if Merle kills the scumbag? What's he to me? Might hurt the women when he recovers.

But I didn't know. Had to give him a chance because maybe he was decent.

I carried on padding forcefully to the medical tent. Surely he wouldn't be left alone? What if he woke up freaking out in the middle of the night? Like I used to afterwards?I shuddered at the memories. Merle would pull me tighter to him and stroke my hair until I could relax enough to sleep. But often I would wake up again and again during the night from more nightmares about the Governor's men, especially that freak Jones but my brother would never get annoyed at the constant interruptions to his sleep.

I didn't know how he did it – I knew that in reality he couldn't be more different from the man in my dream.

But then I thought about what he'd done – he was no better than them! I shouldn't ever forget that.

I made my way silently but as quickly as I could. In time to stop a murder, I hoped.

But found something much worse.