The 3 Stages of Tolerating Merle Dixon

Beth's first attempt at getting Merle to go away consisted of flat-out ignoring him. Logically, she thought, he would get so sick of being ignored that he would eventually have no choice but to give up and move on. She could already tell he was the kind of man who was easy to infuriate simply by not giving him the time of day or pretending that his words held no weight. And she was correct in that assumption.

Unfortunately, she miscalculated just how fucking stubborn he could be.

She ignored him completely, pretended he wasn't there, tuned out his obnoxious statements and irritating voice. She refused to so much as glance in his direction no matter where he was. At one point, he got so angry that he shoved himself into her personal space and yelled in her face. But she kept ignoring him, staring down at the dishes she was washing and biting her tongue so hard that she could taste blood in her mouth. It wasn't that she cared about anything he said, it just became a bit emotionally exhausting to be taunted and harassed by an angry dead man for hours on end. Nevertheless, she stood her ground and kept ignoring him.

He refused to back down. He even followed her into the bathroom and for a second, she thought he actually was a pervert because he was willing to stand there and watch her use the toilet. (She couldn't say she cared because, well… he was dead, so what did it matter to her.) But then she pulled her pants down and continued to pretend he wasn't there and he got all flustered and even angrier than before and stormed out of the room until she was done. That made her feel a little more hopeful, though he quickly dashed it by resuming his taunting and amping up his fury to make sure she knew just how much she was pissing him off. She might've laughed at him but his voice had given her a headache and it was only getting worse as the day wore on.

She couldn't have a conversation with Shawn or her dad or anybody at all because Merle kept interrupting and yelling so loudly in her ear that she couldn't hear what anyone else was saying. She couldn't sit down and watch TV because Merle wouldn't give her more than ten seconds of peace. She couldn't even read a book because Merle would start in on one of his graphically descriptive stories and keep rattling on until she found herself rereading the same paragraph fifteen times while desperately trying to tune him out.

Eventually, she called it an early night and told Hershel she had a migraine as an excuse to go to bed. Sure enough, Merle followed her there, too. He made some more threats to the wall while she changed into pajamas and then made himself comfortable at the edge of her bed once she lay down, his mouth only stopping long enough to wet his lips or take a deep breath in between furious ramblings. She folded her pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Her brain felt like it was trying to burst out of her skull.

Overall, ignoring him meant pretending he wasn't there and Beth figured if she succeeded, he might assume she could no longer see him. Although she knew that wasn't actually possible because he'd noticed how annoyed she was, he'd noticed her headache and her silence, and now he definitely noticed when she was trying to block him out with her pillow. So, in a last ditch effort to retain her sanity, she grabbed her phone and her earbuds from the bedside table and filled her ears with music. She cranked up the volume until her skull was throbbing from the vibrations but finally, finally she was free of Merle's voice.

It was sweet relief for a fleeting three minutes and forty-seven seconds. Then the song faded out and she heard him chuckling and muttering about, "...think you can keep those things in yer ears ferever, hah, gotta charge that thing sometime. I always used to…" But the next song started and drowned out his voice once again and she relaxed. For another four minutes and sixteen seconds, anyway.

He was talking nonstop, muttering spitefully about how 'fucking selfish' she was being and how she was seriously wounding his pride by refusing to help him or even acknowledge him. A song would play and she would be free of him, then it would end and she'd have to suffer through a couple more torturous seconds of his voice. Another song would come on. Then it would end and she'd hear him. And the cycle continued. Song after song after song.

Eventually, her eyelids were growing heavy and she was becoming desperate for sleep. But she didn't dare pause the music or take the earbuds out. She was beginning to wonder if he could talk her to sleep. Maybe if she listened to his voice and pretended the nails-on-a-chalkboard sound was actually rain falling on the rooftop…?

A song ended and the next song's opening was particularly quiet. Her phone was already turned up as loud as it could go. Merle was still muttering but his voice was gradually elevating and Beth could actually hear him making himself angry. She caught snippets in between the next two songs.

"...my baby brother. That asshole - fuckin' dick wouldn't listen to me even if he could hear me…"

"...ain't ever gonna know. Not that he'd fuckin' care, sure as shit wasn't too upset when I died. But now I can't…"

"...look at me now, beggin' some stuck-up little bitch ta help me. I ain't ever needed nobody, an' now when I do, I get somebody who don't give a goddamn 'bout the people I left behind…"

Right before he jumped up from the bed and lashed out, his anger was so audible in his tone that Beth had tensed up and could no longer focus on the music.

"...ain't fuckin' fair, 'sall bullshit, ungrateful li'l prick…"

She might've continued ignoring him - he'd thrown plenty of tantrums throughout the day and she wasn't afraid of him by any means. But this was different and she could feel it. The anger was radiating off of him in waves, so palpable that it made her heart speed up and her muscles tense, as though she were preparing for a collision. Or an explosion.

And explode he did.

In the darkness of Beth's bedroom, Merle leapt up to his feet and let out an ear-shattering scream of rage. His face was all red and his eyes were teary, veins popping up on his neck and forehead. Beth was so startled that she yanked her earbuds out and sat up just as he stomped soundlessly across the floor and punched the mirror above her dresser with all his strength. The last discernible words he cried out before the glass shattered loudly was, "GODDAMIT, DARYL!"

The sound of Merle's anger seemed to shake the entire house.

Shards of glass fell across the top of the dresser and down to the floor. The sound echoed throughout the room. Beth's breath hitched in her throat and she froze, staring wide-eyed at the scene of destruction. Merle stood in shock with his hand still held out before him, balled into a tight fist, staring down at it like he'd never seen it before. He was unaffected by the sharp glass.

The anger on his face gradually disappeared, changing to surprise and then quickly morphing into a look of smug satisfaction. His back straightened and he put his hands on his hips and turned around to face her. He puffed his chest out proudly. She had no choice but to meet his gaze.

He smiled, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Well - looks like ol' Merle ain't so easy to ignore after all. How you like them apples, blondie?"


Beth's second attempt at getting Merle to go away consisted of giving him a taste of his own medicine. Which meant insulting him, refusing to help him, threatening him, and using so much foul language that her mother would probably roll over in her grave at the sound of it. But she was fed up, and attempting to ignore him was no longer a viable option.

Merle had kept her awake for the entire night. Even worse than that, his little tantrum had sent Shawn and Hershel busting into her bedroom with shotguns in hand, prepared to fight off an intruder that didn't exist. And then she'd had to make up a lie on the spot to explain the broken mirror, and she hated lying to her dad. When she finally managed to drift off to sleep, Merle found a way to wake her up - usually by screaming in her ear. And anytime she would miraculously drift off, he would violently rouse her. Beth wound up getting no more than two hours of sleep, broken up into extremely short five and ten-minute intervals. Merle had found this form of literal torture to be the most hilarious thing he'd ever done, though.

She'd been biting her tongue for too long and had held a lot back. She hadn't even spoken a word to him when he broke the mirror, terrified that someone would overhear her talking to a man that wasn't there. She let it all build up until sunrise and, before anyone else in the house had roused from sleep, she dressed and slipped out of the house and headed straight for the woods with Merle trailing after her like a feral dog. It was the only place she could go without worrying that someone would hear her yelling.

As soon as she was well away from the farm and walking through undergrowth and clumps of trees, she glanced over her shoulder at him and grumbled angrily, "Don't make me call a priest or-or an exorcist or somethin'. I'll get sage or whatever, holy water - I'll cleanse the whole frickin' property if I have to."

He was all too pleased to hear her talking to him again and let out an obnoxiously loud laugh in response. "Yer funny, Doodlebug," he spoke with a condescending tone. "None a that shit actually works - you know that, right? Those're empty threats to a dead guy."

"How would you know?" She hissed through clenched teeth, forcing herself to stare ahead while her blood boiled. If having to listen to him hadn't been agonizing enough, having to give in and converse with him again was even worse.

He chuckled. "Because I'm dead! You learn a lot once ya leave the mortal plane, but hey - I ain't claimin' ta be no expert. Just smart enough ta know that all the li'l bullshit they feed ya about ghosts an' spirits an' demons all bein' the same is about as far from the truth as you can get. Ain't no burnin' sage or special water that's gonna get rid a me, darlin'. Gonna take a helluva lot more an' that."

Beth's fists clenched at her side and she kept walking.

Merle continued to ramble smugly, just like he'd done nonstop for the last eighteen hours. "Wanna talk about burnin' some plants, now that might not be a bad idea. I dunno if I can still get high, but I can't die from tryin' - hah! How 'bout it, princess? Wanna smoke a joint with a ghost? Shit, you probably ain't ever smoked nothin' in yer whole life. What a damn waste of a living body, if I didn't - "

"I don't do that shit because I'm not a loser," she snapped, glancing back at him to see his smile flicker momentarily. "Not that it matters to you, you don't need to know anything about me. I'm getting rid of you, one way or another."

He laughed again. "Oh yeah? An' how're you gonna do that, exactly?"

She pursed her lips and strode forward, stepping up further ahead of him before he could react. Then she stopped and turned around to face him, a generous distance between them now and her fists still clenched at her side.

"Here. We're here," she gestured to the creek behind her and the large tree behind Merle.

He halted and glanced around, blinking and frowning in confusion. "Uh - okay?"

Beth's anger bubbled up higher within her chest and she sighed loudly. "This is where you first appeared. So just - stay here. Don't follow me this time. Go back through whatever portal you spawned from."

He burst out laughing so hard that his beer gut shook. Once he paused and caught his breath, he asked, "You think that's how this works, sweetheart?!"

It had made sense in her head. But now she was feeling foolish. She dug her fingernails into her palms and her voice grew louder. "You don't know my name, you know absolutely nothing about my life or-or my soul or whatever. We don't have any kind of connections. There's no reason for you ta be literally haunting me! Just go!"

Merle continued grinning as he shook his head and tsked. He spoke low and dangerous, "Oh, darlin'... you ain't even seen haunted yet."

But she refused to let him intimidate her. He'd done nothing but patronize and taunt her since the moment they met. She couldn't even comprehend the audacity of his request for her help when he refused to do anything but degrade and pester her. But she wouldn't allow herself to feel any kind of actual fear for him. She secretly worried it might give him more power somehow. And though she wouldn't say it aloud, the broken mirror had been terrifyingly real. She had no desire to see what else he may become capable of if she allowed him to linger any longer. If she didn't try something to get rid of him.

"You have ta leave eventually. If I ignore you," she persisted. "Or if I get help. I'll find someone who can make you leave."

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Good luck. Jus' trust me on this, blondie, there ain't no way out except ta get involved. Neither of us has a choice in the matter."

She shot him a murderous glare and pursed her lips.

He insisted, "C'mon now, don't ya wanna be a dutiful Christian an' help a good man move on?"

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Good man? If you were anything close to good, you wouldn't be stuck here."

Anger flashed across his face. "Yeah well, nobody's perfect. 'M sure you got plenty a yer own sins, ya dumb broad."

She immediately registered his reaction and tried to use it to her advantage. She had to admit, she wasn't the best at insulting people but she had more than a few choice words saved back for this asshole. And he'd just revealed a vulnerable spot. So of course, she prodded it.

"We all have, but at least I ain't dead and beggin' some complete stranger for help because I have nobody else who would ever wanna help me," Beth said, her voice coming out a lot sharper than she'd expected and full of all the rage she'd been holding back. "You say nobody else can hear you but I think yer full of shit. I think nobody else will listen to you an' now you got no choice but ta ask somebody who has no idea what a complete waste of oxygen you actually were. You're just some sad, pathetic, lost soul doomed for Hell or - or maybe yer just meant to wander the earth fer all of eternity!" She was practically yelling but couldn't hold back. A sadistic smile formed on her face as she laughed coldly and went on, nearly breathless, "'Cause you probably lived such a disgusting, bottom-dwelling life that absolutely no one gave a shit that you died! I'll bet you died alone - an' that's how you'll stay forever. I mean, it already sounds to me like that brother you won't stop talkin' about doesn't give a flying fuck about you, dead or alive. He was probably happy ta finally be free of you!"

Merle wasn't even trying to conceal his fury at this point. His face got more and more red as Beth went on and by the time she stopped to catch her breath, the veins were popping up on his neck and forehead. His jaw was clenched so hard that he looked like he was ready to spit blood. His arms fell to his sides and went rigid, hands balled into fists.

It happened in a flash. One second he was standing a good distance away from her and then the next, he was directly in front of her, all red-faced and infuriated. He poked his finger into her forehead as he yelled in her face, but she couldn't feel it. All she could feel was the intense anger radiating off of him, making her blood go cold, and all she could hear was his loud voice in her ears.

"Listen here, you selfish little bitch, you don't know shit about me! Just like you don't know shit about bein' dead or what kinda unfinished fucking business I got! You best believe I got your number, girl. You think I dunno 'bout you, think I don't know yer name or how much you love that goofy brother an' that geriatric pa of yers?! 'Cause I do, Beth Greene - oh, I fuckin' know. An' you better just get it through that pretty little head a yers right now: I won't stop till I get what I need! You saw what kinda power I got, an' you know I could haunt the everlivin' shit outta this house till yer precious daddy keels over from a goddamn heart attack! You wanna play games, Doodlebug? Ol' Merle's been playin' these games since before you fell outta yer mama's cunt - you hear me?! Huh?!"

Beth stood frozen, unable to process everything he was screaming at her all at once. She could do nothing but stare deftly, heart racing and spine gone stiff as a board. She was wishing more than anything that she could leap forward and strangle him to death. Or bash his head in with a rock. It really was a shame that someone else had beat her to the punch.

He turned his head and spit on the ground, though nothing appeared there. He took a step back and continue glaring at her, the blood slowly draining from his face.

"I don't give a shit if yer my only option or not, ain't nobody gonna talk to me like that. Ever," he growled. He spit again, flexing his fists at his sides, and went on menacingly, "Funniest part about it, sweetheart… if this is my punishment, then yer bein' punished right along with me. An' I'll make sure of that."

He took another step back and shook his head. Beth still couldn't find the proper response. All she could do was stare at him, filled with a whole new fear that she definitely hadn't expected nor been prepared to deal with. She suddenly felt like a hostage in her own life.

Merle laughed humorlessly. "Don't make me haunt you, honey. It won't end well fer you."

"Fuck you," she snapped. It was the first thing that came pouring out of her mouth before she could stop it.

To her frustration, he gave her a wicked grin while lifting his eyebrows suggestively and quipping back, "Wish ya could but I don't think ghost sex works that way. 'M sure we could figure somethin' out, though."

He laughed loudly again but this time, it was with genuine amusement.


Beth's third attempt at getting Merle to go away consisted of getting a third party involved. Particularly someone that she would consider a 'trained professional.' Maybe several trained professionals. Which meant she would need to travel into the city.

Atlanta was only about an hour's drive from the farm but she had no idea how long it would take her to drive around the city itself or how long it may take if she actually ended up finding someone who could help. She also had to account for traffic. So, after spending several minutes on her phone looking up different addresses in Atlanta and creating a list for herself, as well as ignoring Merle's incessant questions about said list, she mustered up all of her courage and lied to her father.

"Daddy, Rick called an' asked if I could come watch Judith for the day. I guess somethin' came up with his regular babysitter. D'you mind if I take the truck?"

Hershel didn't even look up from the newspaper in his hands. "Of course, Bethy. I filled up the tank yesterday. Just be sure to keep your phone on you in case anything happens."

She gave him a peck on the cheek while Merle cackled in the doorway. "Okay, I won't be back too late but don't wait up for me. Love you."

A knot of guilt twisted in her stomach as she left the house and fast-walked to the big black Ford pickup that was parked out front. Merle was taunting her and amusing himself with crude jokes about fatherly affection, but she wasn't even listening because she was still trying to convince herself that her lies weren't actually hurting anyone. It might not have been such a big deal except that she really really hated lying to her own family. But she also knew that she couldn't tell them any part of the truth because they would undoubtedly lock her up in the looney bin if they heard even half the story. And she couldn't admit to visiting Atlanta because Hershel would assume that she was going to stop by and see Maggie and the very last thing Beth needed was to risk getting Maggie involved in any way. Her big sister was too good at seeing right through her, she'd never believe her lies. But she'd sure as hell never believe the truth either. Maggie didn't believe in shit like that. She would think Beth was on drugs.

Beth kind of wished she was on drugs.

Merle appeared in the passenger's seat half a second after she climbed into the cab and shut the door, causing her to jolt in surprise. "Where the hell we goin', blondie? You sure you can drive this thing?"

She rolled her eyes at him, starting up the engine and giving it a moment to rumble to life before she shifted gears and began driving down the long driveway and away from the farmhouse. "I've been drivin' since I was twelve. Just sit back and try not to make me fly off the road before we get to Atlanta. And for the love of God, call me Beth."

"Atlanta?!" He scoffed. "The hell's in Atlanta? If we're drivin', might as well just go find my brother an' get started on sortin' this shit out. He don't even live that far away."

Beth kept her eyes forward and focused on the dirt road ahead, both hands gripping the steering wheel. "I already told you, I'm not gonna go talk ta some total stranger and try to convince him that his dead brother is haunting me. I can't help you if I'm locked up in an asylum, you do realize that, don't you?"

She could hear him sucking on his teeth for a long moment. Then he muttered, "Seems awfully unnecessary, 'sall. Yer gonna have ta talk to Daryl sooner or later. Ain't no other way."

"Well there has to be. Because I'm telling you right now, no matter what I tell this brother of yours, he's not gonna believe me and he's not gonna help us."

"How d'you know? You never even met 'im. If we can just convince him - which we can - I know he'd wanna help."

"And how do you know? Huh? What makes you think that he hasn't already moved on and started a brand new Merle-free life?" She glanced over to see him frowning and staring through the windshield.

"'Cause he's my brother. 'Cause I was all he ever had an' he was all I ever had. 'Cause he'd do goddamn anything fer me!"

Beth pursed her lips and held back any further comments. She wasn't in the mood for another one of his outbursts, especially while she was driving. So she reached over and turned on the radio, cranking the volume up until the local country station was filling the inside of the spacious cab. She could barely hear Merle muttering from his seat, though whether he was muttering to her or to himself, she didn't know and didn't care.

There was a blissful ten minutes of peace before he spoke again, loud enough to be heard over the Luke Bryan song that was playing. "Jesus Christ, can you put on some real country? This shit's gonna make my ears bleed an' I don't even have blood anymore!"

Beth rolled her eyes and reached over to wordlessly change the station. She left it on one of her dad's preset stations, the cab filling with an old Hank Williams song. Thankfully it shut Merle up and a few seconds later, he was tapping his foot to the music and quietly singing along.

As soon as the song ended and a commercial break came on, he turned to her and said, "Roll my window down."

She shot him a loathing side-eye and kept her hands on the steering wheel. "Why?"

He looked at her indignantly. "'Cause it's fuckin' nice out? Shit, just 'cause I'm dead don't mean I can't appreciate a brisk autumn day."

She hesitated, then said, "You could ask me nicely."

He groaned and rolled his eyes at her. "Jus' roll it down. It's one goddamn button."

She smirked and stared ahead, pretending to ignore him.

He huffed and once he realized she wasn't bending, he muttered resentfully, "Fine! Would you please roll my window down?"

She made him wait for a couple more seconds just to annoy him before reaching over and pressing the button to open the passenger side window. But she still didn't look over at him.

"Now how hard was that? Fuckin' brat," he remarked.

Beth quickly reached over and rolled the window back up.

"No - I was kiddin'! Keep it down! Damn, can't you take a joke, woman?"

She rolled it back down but kept smirking. She was thankful there were still some things she had power over.

Crisp autumn air poured in through the passenger side window, loud and nonstop as they flew down the highway toward Atlanta. It was barely ten in the morning but there were plenty of other cars on the road heading in both directions. Beth revelled in the sound of music and wind and speeding vehicles, grateful for the break from Merle's aggravating voice. Then he pulled something from the inside pocket of his vest and she glanced over.

"How d'you even have those?" She asked, baffled.

He shook a single cigarette into his palm from the pack he was holding and placed it between his lips. She kept looking over at him, waiting for an answer as he slid the pack back into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He lit the end of his smoke and grinned as thin clouds of nicotine and tar puffed out around his mouth.

"What is it you kids say these days?" He replied in his abnormally scratchy voice, ashing the cigarette before taking a long drag and holding it in. "I'm hashtag blessed." He exhaled with a cackle and resumed tapping his foot to the radio.

The stench of cigarette smoke invaded her nostrils even though she had no idea how it was even possible that he was smoking, and she wasn't sure if only she could smell it or if his weird ghost cigarettes would leave an actual odor behind inside the truck. But she rolled her window down nonetheless and attempted to rid herself of the sickening smell.

"Ugh," Beth groaned, rolling her eyes for very possibly the millionth time in the last two hours. "You really are the worst."

Merle chuckled and continued smoking his cigarette out the open window. "'S like my pa always said: might as well be the worst if ya can't be the best." He finished with an amused laugh and another deep inhale of smoke.

He got distracted by old country songs and chain-smoking for the rest of the drive to Atlanta and she counted her blessings. Once they entered the city, she used the GPS on her phone to navigate her way toward the first address on her list.

It was a Baptist church nestled within an upper middle-class neighborhood. Beth's heart sped up as soon as she spotted the large cross on the roof from down the street and it only raced faster once she was slowing down and parking in the small lot beside the white building. Merle leaned forward and gazed through the windshield curiously, a wicked grin forming on his face.

"Oh-ho-ho, so yer takin' the old fashioned route, huh? Gonna try ta pray the Merle away?" He laughed loudly at his own stupid joke.

She angrily shifted the truck into Park and turned her head to glare at him.

"No, I'm just gonna get some second opinions. This is the first stop of many. We're gonna get an answer today, so help me God." And she meant it. Because she was almost certain that no one but God Himself could help her at this point.

Merle barked out another laugh and shook his head, tossing his burnt-down cigarette butt out the window. "Whatever you say, princess. Let's see what the experts have ta say about our predicament."

Beth paused with her hand on the doorhandle. She turned and faced Merle, looking at him sternly. "Let's lay down some ground rules first."

He frowned and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "Rules? I never done so good with rules."

She held back a sigh of exasperation and continued, "Look, I'm trying ta help us both. If we can find someone else who can see you or somebody who has some kind of experience with - I dunno, guiding souls, I guess? - then maybe we can find an easier way to approach your brother. Maybe there's a detour to helping you crossover."

"A detour?"

"Yeah - don't you think it's worth a shot? We might as well. I already drove all the way here. No point in not gettin' an expert's opinion." She repeated his own words in an effort to persuade him. She just needed him to behave and not drive her insane for a few hours, that's all she was asking.

He pondered her statement for a long moment, sucking on his teeth thoughtfully and eyeballing her like he was trying to figure her out. Finally, he shrugged.

"Whatever. Ain't like it's my life we're wastin'," he grumbled resentfully.

She suppressed a grin and spoke to him as firmly as she could manage, "Just let me talk and don't distract me or throw a fit. That's the only rules. Oh - and if they can see you, don't mess with them. Talk, be a normal person for once in your afterlife. Just… try to work with me here. Deal?"

He eyeballed her suspiciously.

"The more willing you are ta give my ideas a chance, the more willing I'll be to meet with your brother. If this whole thing really necessitates his involvement then - well, we're gonna end up there one way or another, right? So why not let a trained professional lead us in that direction and help us along the way? Your brother would probably be a lot more willing to listen to two seemingly sane people than just some strange farm girl." She knew how to be persuasive when she needed to be.

He groaned and uncrossed his arms, looking away from her. "You wanna go cry out to an echo chamber, I'm not gonna stop ya. But don't get pissy with me when your bullshit magic men can't find none a those detours."

He paused and laughed to himself before turning and giving her a cocky smirk. "Shit - who am I ta turn down a good show? You might even end up cryin' 'fore the day's over."

He laughed coldly. Beth brushed off his statement and considered it a win regardless.

She would tolerate him for now, sure. But she wouldn't accept him. Not until she was absolutely certain that she had no other choice.

to be continued...