Chapter 7

Three years had passed since Merle returned home. Daryl now eleven was starting to show some signs of his body changing. He was still quite thin, but his muscles well defined. He had hardened his heart greatly and was not afraid of a fight. He actually enjoyed fighting. Just not many boys his age would take him on. So, he practiced on Merle's friends. He usually ended up the one on the losing end, but nevertheless, he enjoyed both the punching and the pain. He spent most days with Merle again, at random people's houses, waiting on a liquor bottle to be left too long and forgotten. He would finish the contents and wait for more. Merle didn't beat him as often anymore. Still referred to him most days as Darlena. They were at a friend's house, passing around a bottle of Jack when their father burst through the door of the home. He went straight for Daryl, lifting him off the couch by his shirt collar. Daryl waited for the first of the blows, when none came, he listened to his father yelling something about school. "If your ass ain't in school first thing in the morning you better not even bother coming home. I will kill you; you understand. Sheriff shows up at my house, talking about truancy. Here I find you with your worthless piece of shit brother. I swear to God boy, you land me in jail, and I will peel the skin from your body little by little with a paring knife." The scary part was not his father's yelling, but his threats Daryl knew were not just threats. He would do to Daryl what he said he would do. When Daryl's feet found the floor, he promised he would be in school. His father dared him to miss a day, and if he did his father would kill him. Daryl realized quickly that his little party, hanging out with his brother, all of this was over. Daryl went into town with what little money he had stolen as his brothers and friends left loose change around on coffee tables or inside couch cushions and bought a backpack. He headed back to school the next morning. Fifth grade was harder than he remembered any other grade being. He sat in class as the kids around him made faces at him and told him he was disgusting, and he smelled bad. Daryl ignored everyone as usual. He worked through his schoolwork, getting mostly A's, surprising himself and all those around him. The truth was Daryl enjoyed school. This year though, kids were more aware. They were more aware that he wore long sleeves even in the sweltering heat, that he never ate lunch, and he never asked anyone to come over to his house and he never went to theirs. Even if someone wanted to be his friend, he was a Dixon. The Dixon's were well known for their trouble all around the state. Daryl remained quiet, only speaking as necessary. Some of the boys picked up on that and left him alone. Other's wanted to try him in the ring so they could move up in status at the school. Their status didn't change however, Daryl never lost a fight.

One day, Daryl was called to the office. Once again, he was met by a man and a woman. They asked him several questions about his home life, and a few about school. He refused to answer any questions, instead glaring at the CPS workers.

"Well, we have to tell you. It was our impression you were living with your brother Merle. He is now in jail. Living with your father is not a great option as we filed papers to remove you from his custody quite a while ago. We are taking you today to either a host family or to a holding center while we try and find placement." The man with the clipboard stood in front of him.

Daryl's shoulders sagged. His brother is in jail, he can't live with his dad. What is he supposed to do? He listened as the female worker attempted to contact several area families that host children for a short period of time. The conversation always turned bleak with the work said, "Yes, Dixon. The child is Daryl Dixon." Under a litany of excuses, one by one host family options dropped like flies. The female spoke in hushed tones to the principle as Daryl sat looking at his boots, one of the laces so badly torn that he could no longer keep them tied. The principle looked at Daryl and kept looking until Daryl looked him in the eye. Surprised by the look he saw there, Daryl quickly looked back down at his broken laces.

"Well Daryl, we are in a predicament here. Looks like for tonight, you will come home with me. Then tomorrow these nice people will decide what we are going to do here." The principal smiled, hands in the pockets of his dress slacks, he walked toward Daryl.

"To hell I am," Daryl answered, surprising even himself. "I ain't going nowhere but home. You people cause enough trouble in my life. Four times you come now. Four. Each time it's the same damn thing. You say I gotta be removed, take me out of the house, throw me on some cot in some room. Ain't no one gonna host me like you said, that's clear. All that's gonna happen is I'm gonna catch a beatin. On account of what? Huh? You keep me safe one night freezing my ass off on a hard cot. Fuck you. I ain't goin with ya."

The room was quiet, everyone looking anywhere but at Daryl. Daryl stood up and walked out of the room. He walked toward the door but was stopped by the officer there.

"Son, you can't go out of this room. You are in the custody of child protective services now. You go where they say, or you go to the station with me." Daryl stopped in front of the officer. Daryl stood as tall as he could and stared the officer in the eye.

"Take me to the fucking station then dick head." Daryl stood stock still. The officer narrowed his eyes and stared hard at him.

"Watch your language boy." The Officer frowned.

Daryl laughed then. Took one step back and threw up his hands toward the ceiling.

"Or what shit head. Or you'll arrest me? You'll wash my mouth out with fuckin soap. I don't give two shits what you say, what you do. Either way I'm out of luck. I get beat for going home and not saying shit, or I get beat for not going home and saying shit. So, do whatever the fuck you feel like doing asshole fucking cop. That language better for you." Daryl felt his hands tighten into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

He felt a hand on his shoulder then. He flinched quickly away. Touch to him always felt like fire on his skin. It burned sharp and deep. He hated to be touched, anyway, anywhere. He met the eyes of his principal.

"Daryl, I know you've been hurt, and I'm sorry. We are here to make that stop. Please, let us help you. Give us tonight ok. One more night and we will find a safe place for you."

Daryl eyed him; his eyes narrowed as his body began to tremble. He willed his body to still, willed it with all his might. It would not respond to his command. His hands shook.

"Fuck, whatever." He said, keeping his eyes on the ground.

A sigh of relief from all involved echoed around the room. The officer opened the door to his office and the adults made their way towards the awaiting cars. Once the front door opened, Daryl shot like a bolt of lightening past the officer, past the cars and straight into the woods. They knew they couldn't give chase; knew they couldn't catch him. Daryl was gone, just like that.

Daryl stayed in the woods near his father's cabin until night fall. He watched the officers come and go, talking to his father. Daryl knew it was risky going there, but with Merle in jail, he could think of no where else to go. The night air was chilly as winter threatened to settle around them. A night in the woods was impossible as the temperature continued to drop. Finally, Daryl made his way into the cabin. His father didn't even stop to ask what happened; Daryl found himself drug around the house by his hair. He knew the beating had to finish soon because if it didn't, it wouldn't matter anymore. He was sure his ribs were broken, maybe even his hand and arm. His eyes were swelling shut and forget opening his mouth to scream. He became still, focused on his breathing. One breath in, hold, slowly blow it out. Darkness consumed him. He drifted in and out of consciousness for the next two days. He didn't know days had passed; he just knew he was in bad shape. He dreamed of his body on fire next to his mother's. He dreamed of snakes biting him, and arrows piercing his skin. He dreamed of Merle laughing at him, mocking him, echoing Darlena. Then there was light all around him, a hallway, strange noises. He saw a face covered in a mask, he could see the eyes of someone looking down at him. He felt like he was floating. Daryl was sure he was dying, and this is what hell felt like.

He was awoken by the sound of the beep. It was steady, not stopping. Beep, beep, beep. He looked up at the ceiling, and thought to himself, "I didn't think there would be ceilings in hell." Just as he closed his eyes, he heard his name.

"Daryl, I'm Doctor Davidson. I see you are waking up. Stay with me son, I need you to answer me some questions."

Daryl's eyes flashed, "Doctor, why is there a doctor in hell?" He whispered.

The doctor began to laugh and pulled down his mask so Daryl could see his face. "This isn't hell son; you are in Saint Mary's Hospital recovering from some severe injuries."

It started to come together for him. The beeps, the strange ceiling, the bright lights, the hustle and bustle. Daryl laid there, hoping more would be explained.

"You were found in a cabin in the woods, where you live with your father I believe. You have several broken ribs, a damaged eye socket, burn marks and you right arm is out of socket. You will need surgery." Dr. Davidson spoke, his voice weary and deep. "Do you have any allergies to any medications that you are aware of?"

Daryl tried to get out of bed. "No." Daryl said, but getting up was much too painful. Just let me go."

The doctor injected a syringe filled with some liquid into his arm. "Shh now boy. We will see you again soon."

With that, Daryl fell into a heavy sleep. There was that sound again, that incessant beep. Daryl tried hard to open his eyes but couldn't. He tried to call out, but he couldn't will his body to respond. He was dead, he was sure of it. No feeling, no control over his body. Just death. "Shit." He thought to himself. This isn't what he figured death was at all. He would just be here in this darkness, feeling like he needed to move and never being able to satisfy that urge. Hell sucks.

"Daryl?" He heard someone say his name. The voice echoed, sounding familiar. Not his brother or his father. He thought for a moment that his mother was probably waiting in hell for him. But the voice didn't fit what he remembered of his mother. "He's trying to come to. He is on a very strong sedative, we had to keep him still. Even under anesthesia he tried to fight. They increased the dose, and worried in the long run that he may have gotten too much.

"Daryl, open you eyes for us. That's it, keep fighting. You can do it. Just open your eyes."

Daryl fought hard, trying his best to will his eyes open. The light shone brightly as his eye squinted open. The other was bandaged closed as the doctor had to repair his damaged eye socket. He saw the face of a man, kind eyes. He wondered what he was in store for now.

"Daryl, you're ok buddy. You're in the hospital. I found you at the cabin in the woods. You gave us quite a scare. You are going to feel very sleepy and that is ok. I'm gonna be here when you wake up. You're safe here. No need to fight it, I just wanted you to know you are ok." The principal felt tears form at the corners of his eyes as he watched Daryl struggle against the medicine that had to be pumped into his body.

The principal hadn't slept much since Daryl had run off that day from school, and finally let curiosity get the better of him. He asked some students where the cabin was located as there was no address on the school paperwork. He made his way to the cabin in hopes to find the boys father and speak to him about where he could have run off to. It was there he found Daryl laying in the main room; blankets, dirty clothing and trash thrown over him on the floor. He wouldn't have found him if it didn't so happen that the principal kicked him as he walked through the piles of trash and filth that littered the cabin. Daryl didn't move, he wasn't sure he was even breathing. Without thinking the principal scooped him up and headed straight to the hospital. He cried the whole drive there for the boy who was so mistreated, who was now barely clinging to life.

It had been decided between he and his wife that he would step in to care for the child. With now both his father and brother locked up in jail, he had no where else to go. His mother was dead. No other family to speak of. He would come home with the principal. It took some convincing at first for his wife to agree. The Dixon's did have a reputation around the town, and it was well known that Daryl hadn't fallen far from the tree. With two young boys of their own in the home his wife had at first said no. Then he brought her to the hospital. She looked at the child, his blonde hair turning brown as he got older, his battered body and bruised and swollen face. She instantly felt the need to cradle him on her lap. She would have, had he not been hooked up to so many wires. It was then she agreed. They had enough room. Daryl would have his own room, and her younger two could share a room. Papers were signed, and temporary custody was granted to the couple. The principal frowned then, worrying that maybe he made a hasty decision. Daryl had a mouth on him, and a fighting attitude. How would he respond to the news of moving in with his principal's family?

Daryl began to breathe, one breath in, hold it, slowly blow it out. He was in pain again. This pain was everywhere. A burning in his veins, his entire body shaking against it. He knew he had to fight it off. "Come on Darlena," a voice echoed sounding much like Merle. "You gonna cry again. Didn't realize Mom and Dad had a girl with a pecker. Get on out of here you waste of skin. Go on and cry, but on your own time. I ain't got no time for some sissy boy." The voice began to laugh but was cut short when another voice arose.

"Come on now. That's it, settle down. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Good. You seem to know this already, who taught you?" A smiling woman stood over him. Not a nurse, she didn't have the outfit or the hat. This woman had on a stylish blouse with dress pants. Her hair was done, and makeup colored her face. Daryl was surprised to find his mind telling him that she was pretty. He tried to sit up but couldn't find the strength to push himself upwards. "Nope. You just stay still now. You are in the hospital and you need to rest. Your only job is to work on waking up a little more often. The doctor wants to see you start eating and drinking on your own."

What was she saying? Eat and drink on his own, of course he did. Did she think he was an infant? Had he died and come back reincarnated to another mother? He read a book long ago in the library about reincarnation. He hated it. One life was enough for him on this earth. She smiled above him, and he willed himself to disappear, death or sleep or whichever came first.