DSLW: Rewrite Chapter 1

Hi, I know this story's a mess and I always wanted to continue it but I got stuck. So, I am rewriting a few chapters – if you haven't read the original, you can read this story from the beginning to understand. However, I think what has happened is pretty clear from this chapter. Same warnings apply – don't read if you think you will get triggered: father/son rape described in detail and incest warnings apply from Daryl's POV. I'm so tired – sorry if I made mistakes.

Please leave a kudos and/or a comment and a review depending on which fanfic site you are using, even if you have some constructive criticism on how I can improve my writing. Also, any plot ideas are welcome – what would you like to see happen? I haven't written anything for a long time now, so maybe I am a bit rusty and out of ideas.

Daryl's POV

We were stuck there in that house that I had grown to hate even more in the last few months because his shade seemed to hover in the dark corners even though his body was slowly dissolving in the acid bath. We couldn't risk anyone finding out about Dad and luckily, he didn't have any friends left in the village, having turned them all away through his sheer obnoxiousness. I could believe that no one in our dirt village would give as shit about his life or his death – hell, maybe they would even throw a party. Still, both of us would go outside in the woods rather than use the bathroom and let him watch us take a dump through his sightless eyes. Yet we had to check him from time to time.

I just wanted the fucker to be gone.

'Can't we speed it up?' I whined to Merle in frustration. 'I wanna get the fuck out of this shithole soon.'

'Me too. Nope. Can't up and leave sticks yet. Only use the car for short shopping trips for things we can't do without. Got to see this thing through.' He tried to squeeze my shoulder. Shit - since it happened, he always seemed to want to comfort me now but I typically shrugged him off and backed away. I didn't need him – I was fine. Besides, he'd never shown me much affection before.

Neither of us knew why but those yellow orbs of that fucker had already gone but somehow, I could sense the bastard still watching me when we had to check the acid's progress. Accusing me of letting Merle did what he did. Sometimes, I heard his voice hiss in my ear – Murderer among the other names he used to call me. Was calling me when Merle found us together. It was true, I had left them together to take a shower that I was craving anyway after my brother ordered me to.

Murdered. As if he didn't deserve it. But to be honest, I hadn't really expected Merle to go so far and actually kill him, even after walking in on us. Thought he'd just beat the shit out him and we'd leave. But I'd been crying that last time, only adding to my humiliation – beaten down finally. Although normally Merle would have mocked me for It and called me a pussy.

But not that time.

That was the only time I'd broken down, since dad died and I only felt numb. Of course, I wasn't going to cry for that piece of shit.

Apart from the nightmares - those times I felt everything – especially him inside me. Thrusting and ripping me apart from the inside. The fucking pain. Because not once did the bastard try to make what he called this 'punishment' easy on me. His clammy hands all over me. His oppressing weight on top of me and pinning me down so I could barely breathe, let alone move. Him grunting like a hog and whispering filth into my ear along with the stench of his rotting teeth and whiskey breath. His stinking sweat that got into my pores so deep that afterwards, no matter how hard I scrubbed (if he was feeling generous and let me have a shower that was) I felt like I could never get rid of his stench and that particular bodily fluid of his, let alone the others.

I think the asshole didn't change his clothes for days at a time as he fell deeper and deeper into drink.

Back to the present. Merle was looking at me with puzzled concern like he was expecting me to do something and I didn't know what it was.

'What you want for dinner?' He finally asked.

I shrugged. 'Nothin'. Ain't hungry.'

'You gotta eat. You dropped loads of weight already.'

I narrowed my eyes at him. 'Not like you never noticed.' I snapped. 'To busy getting high and screwin' 'round.'

I immediately regretted it when he looked stricken and turned away.

'Merle…What ya cookin'?' I mumbled, not looking at him but down at my shoes.

He brightened. 'Deer steaks from the freezer and fries?'

I smiled and nodded. 'Sounds good.'

'I'll get it on then.' He went into the kitchen.

Even so, I only ate half of the steak and a few fries but it was an improvement from yesterday and I could tell he was relieved.

'Never mind.' He went to clear my plate. 'Save it for later when you're hungry again.' He reached to tussle my hair and I flinched.

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it.

I wished I would stop doing that and so I stood up partly to break the awkward moment, 'I gotta to take a piss.'

'Again?' He shot me a worried look. That's like the 100th time you've been today already.'

I shrugged, couldn't believe he was a dork enough to count. He didn't know the reason why. He couldn't.

…

When I came back from the forest, he'd put on the TV with his feet up and motioned me to sit beside him.

'Ya still bleedin'?' He asked matter-of-factly without looking at me.

'How…how do you…?' I stammered. It'd had been more than 2 weeks. Bastard had gone at me like a sledgehammer.

'What he was doin' to you and way he was doin' it….'

'No…You can't know.' Now my humiliation was complete. I felt my eyes getting wet again remembering that terrible day. But it had made it all stop.

Mortified, I tried to run to my room so he wouldn't see my break down.

'No! Get ya skinny ass back here, I need to talk to you, baby brother.'

And I don't know why but I did what he said. The command in his voice was irresistible. But I did bury my face in Mama's sofa cushions – the ones she embroidered herself. They gave me comfort somehow.

He didn't touch me but he kept on at me over my shoulder. There was no escape but I managed to get myself back under control.

'Did he hurt you, baby brother?'

I turned back to glare at him. 'Ya know he fuckin' did – you were there! He was always hurtin' us!'

Why was he talking to me like that – so soft? Asking dumb questions?'

'Yeah but not like that. You still in pain?'

I didn't answer.

He did for me. 'Stupid question. 'Course you fuckin' are.'

'Drop it, Merle! Let's not do this now! Don't want to talk 'bout it!'

'We're going to! Even if we never talk about him ever again!' He grabbed me by the top of my arms then. I tried to get him off me but he was stronger than me and it reminded me of him – feeling so helpless. I panicked. 'No! Get off me, Dad!'

He looked guilty and immediately let go. I didn't even realise what I'd called him at the time.

I was shaking by then and couldn't stop myself.

'Did Daddy hurt you?' His voice was crooning almost.

'What the fuck?' I seriously didn't know what had got into him. Talking to me like I was 5 or something but it got to me. Was he mocking me? But he couldn't be…No, he wouldn't do that, would he?

His gentleness, not used to it, was what undid me. 'What did he do?' He repeated.

'You know what he did!' I sobbed. 'Merle…He …He fuck….fucked me.' I hung me head. That's when he grabbed me roughly almost and started pulling my head down in the direction of his crotch.

'No! No! Not you too! You make me and I'll bite ya it off!'

'What?' He dropped me like I was a hot potato and seemed genuinely surprised. But I slumped against him and for the life of me couldn't rouse the energy to move away.

'What did you just say to me!' Now he looked furious.

'Nothin'…Didn't mean nothin' by it. Forget it, Merle.' Ashamed, I didn't dare look up at him.

Couldn't. Not after what I'd just said to him.

His expression turned furious then as he grabbed me and held my face between his hands.

'Tell me why you said that! I ain't gonna hurt you, least of all now – I'm your brother!'

'He …he…' I shook my head then. 'Don't, Merle. Jus' leave it, please!'

'Tell me.' He was simply relentless.

'No! He…He…said…'

He looked damn near ready to kill me. 'What did he say?' He gave me another shake, eyeballing me. I was transfixed.

I tried to look down but he tilted up my chin and forced me to look at him.

'I'm sorry, Merle. Sometimes…he gets inside my head and I can hear him calling me those names, whispering his sick shit in my ear …and I …mix time up and think I'm back there.'

'Did he threaten you? With me?'

I nodded and my voice fell to a whisper. 'Sometimes he said if I ever told you or anyone, he'd kill you…other times – he'd say you would make me do it to you too if you knew and you and him would take turns, maybe use me at the same time…you in my mouth and the him in…' I couldn't finish and let out a whimper instead. I trembled at the scene that memory invoked, hating myself for my weakness.

Merle didn't seem to notice that but his eyes changed before he dropped me like I was a piece of hot iron. I heard him rush out the front door and retch up the dinner he had so painstakingly cooked outside.

For me.

What a waste.

I curled up in a ball as my body became racked with sobs, thinking, my brother's disgusted with me and hates me now – being a Dixon don't matter no more.

Then he was back and I braced myself for the blows or I don't know what. I wasn't gonna fight 'cos I deserved it. I was disgusting and weak and a pussy for letting my father do those things to me. Should've killed him the first time he touched me like a man, like a Dixon but had left it to Merle to find out. Would my brother ever be able to get those images out of his head? What had I done to him?

I realised I was weeping for him just as much for myself. Other students at school moaned that their parents were too strict and grounded them if they came back from a party late or stopped their pocket money if they gave them backchat. I'd never been invited to a classmate's party and I'm sure if I was, dad would have banned me from going. Besides, neither of us had ever had pocket money in our life.

But then I felt his arms envelop me, wrapping themselves around me from the back. 'Not all touching is hurtin'.' He whispered.

Of course, I still flinched but that didn't stop him.

'What about when ya with a girl – when she's willing and touchin' you and you're touchin' her - that feels pretty awesome and you'll find out about soon.'

I wasn't sure about that. After my experience with my father, I wasn't sure if I ever wanted sex again, even with a woman. What if I could only be with a man after? Maybe I would wake up one day a fag who only knew how to take it up the ass. Only knew how to be used and abused but at least I hell would make sure I got paid for it first in future. Still, I did feel attracted to some girls in my class not that they ever noticed me in a way other than you would a speck of dogshit on your new, shiny, white shoes. Looked at me that way too. The last few months, I used to fear that they knew about what my dad was making me do but I then I realised that even my own brother hadn't figured it out, so why would they?

'Sh.' He moved my head to his lap and stroked my hair and it felt kind of nice. 'That's all I meant.'

…

'Damn it, Daryl. I know you're upset but you ain't let up for 30 minutes.'

'I can't stop…' I raised my face from his soaked jeans and buried it in my hands. I couldn't stop crying. What the fuck was wrong with me?

He got up abruptly, nearly tumbling me to the floor.

I just lay there, curled up in foetus position and unable to stop the tears coming. Had Merle had enough of his sissy queer little brother and was going to abandon me and leave me alone in the house with Dad?

I shuddered and ordered my body to calm the fuck down but it wouldn't.

I heard him hesitate in the kitchen as if deciding what to do before he went upstairs. A few minutes later, my brother came back with a couple of very large, blue pills.

I raised my head lacklustre to look at them disinterestedly and wiped my eyes that were still weeping. I felt drowsy at last.

'You gonna poison me with those, Merle'? I joked weakly. 'Might as well. 'Cos I'm a worthless nothin', ain't ever gonna be nothin', only good for fuckin', jus' like he said.' I mumbled, hardly aware of what I was saying. Was only brain garbage and I was exhausted and starting to drift off to sleep. He didn't need to give me pills.

'What?' He grabbed me and shook me like before, his cheeks flooding red with fury and his eyes flashed with rage again. I could tell he was mad enough to slap me hard but I knew he wouldn't do that. Not with the bruises on my face that had only recently begun to yellow and the garrotte- like marks still standing redly out around my neck where our father had choked me with his belt while he raped me. My ribs that were healing still caused me a lot of pain that I hid – it was a familiar discomfort that I had learned to live with. Don't forget my black eye which had swollen shut. I could see out of it now and it was a bluish rather than black.

'Don't you ever say shit like that ever again!' Merle shook me more violently this time. 'Get that sick shit of his out of ya head, ya hear? Ya listen to him and he's won!'

He continued his ranting lesson as if trying to make himself believe what he was saying. 'You will be normal, you'll get over this and forget him and all this crap. We'll move away together. Find jobs once this one is done.'

'Do ya really think so, Merle?' I looked up at him with hope. For the first time for months, I felt a glimmer of happiness and managed to finally get some control over my runaway emotions.

'Sure.' He grinned, calmer now that he (thought) he knew everything dad did to me but truth was he didn't know shit. It came out in my dreams though.

'Now, swallow these to make you sleep. Here, chase them down with some of this.' He handed me Dad's large whiskey bottle. I took several swigs with my medicine and watched him do the same. They were different from the normal painkillers he'd had me on.

After I did as he told me, I was out like a light. Right there on the sofa.

No bad dreams.

….

After that, he'd hold me and stroke me – my hair mostly but sometimes my back, my arm – anywhere basically where I wasn't hurt and it felt safe. It even felt good. I wondered at a Dixon behaving like this – especially a man. Yet he'd pull me to him on my bed, on the sofa, even in the car – for hours sometimes and I forgot that I hated being touched. And the bad dreams (more like flashback memories) didn't stop completely but only came once every 2 or 3 nights now. And it helped with the shaking. He'd hold me and tell me in the only way he could what he couldn't say out loud – that he was sorry. For not being there. For not killing Dad sooner and ending my suffering. He'd soothe me and it didn't matter where and it helped with the shaking. That was when he wasn't holding a beer or smoking something in one hand.

Or I wasn't.

'