Chapter 41 Honeymoon Over

Poor Daryl! Sometimes I feel like crying when I write these chapters. Dad is just itching to go all the way with him again, only holding back to let him heal. But can Merle or maybe even somebody else prevent that from happening?

Same trigger warnings apply. Extreme graphic material and child rape and incest is described in detail. Please don't read if you may be triggered.

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Three more days had passed where all he did was whisper filthy shit into my ear, sometimes groping me at the same time. Didn't even make me use my hand or my mouth on him and while I was grateful for this short respite; I could never really fully relax as part of me suspected that he was saving it all up for later when he'd really make me pay. I wasn't wrong. Meanwhile, my math teacher also left me alone except for the looks of concerned curiosity that he occasionally shot at me. Sometimes Rogers would open his mouth to say something to me but then change his mind and close it again.

But I could tell he hadn't given up on me.

Merle came back on Thursday, making me feel a little better. But not much. He was on a new high, according to the look on his face and the rapid speed of his speech, happy as Larry with the big wads of cash he brought home in a sports bag. I couldn't believe how much – hundreds of dollars, maybe thousands. His pupils were bigger than ever again, making his normally sky-blue eyes appear black instead. How could he do this to me? Be so selfish and stay away? And then when he did slink back home, he was too high to protect me. I told myself that he didn't fully know what was going on but he was aware of how things were fucked up between me and Dad. Our father may have taken a break from fucking me but he his fists made up for it.

Neither Dad nor I asked any questions about where the dough came from – with Merle, it was always better not to know. I always believed that he killed Mike for hurting me (not that I had shed any tears for that asshole who was too much like our father). Had Mike given him the taste for killing? Was my brother murdering people for money?

Nah, I mused in my head. Must be drugs or stolen goods – probably a bit of both. Merle wouldn't kill anybody for money! But how I wished he'd kill our sick scumbag excuse of a father for me for free. Or even at a price because I would have given him anything he wanted if he rid me of dad. Maybe he would when I told him.

But despite all my plans to do just that and for us to leave and never look back after school was over, they all crumbled to dust. He was so happy and high that I didn't want to spoil things. Anyway, I just couldn't find the words. How do you tell your brother that the father you share raped you and made you suck his cock? And is just biding his time until he can rape you again any day now?

More than that, Merle was still being 'off' with me in my opinion and I don't think it was paranoia. My brother barely touched me except for a perfunctory brush through my hair with his hand as a greeting. And his eyes would slide to the side whenever I tried to make eye-contact and I couldn't put all of this down to the drugs. As I sat next to him away from Dad – I just wished he'd put his arm around me like he used to do sometimes to send a signal to Dad not to mess with us. It used to make me feel safer but he hadn't even hugged me when he came back.

What the hell is wrong with me? Shouldn't want anyone touching me after what Dad did! Why was I craving my brother's touch?

Because it was a touch that didn't lead to pain and humiliation?

Anyway, Dad was overjoyed with the money and Merle literally puffed up like a peacock at the rare praise he received from him. We ate well that night. A feast of pizza, beef steaks instead of squirrel, fried chicken and fries and more beer than even Merle could drink with black forest gateau to finish it off. Dad gulped down his whiskey like it was water of course, didn't offer Merle any as a reward but my brother didn't seem to mind. Bastard was always stingy with his liquor.

As for me, I was exhausted from the constant tension in my body, always waiting for Dad to revert back to that creepy, raping, sick fuck. So, I didn't enjoy much of the food and they both commented on this and told me to eat up. I forced myself to eat and focused all my energy on getting myself out of his line of vision the best I could. Hoping not to remind him of what he was missing out on with my 'sweet, little ass'. Should've known better.

I was just so tired when we finally went to bed. Had been for days. Apparently exhausted to the point when he was able to enter my room close to dawn, without me knowing. Not to mention undress me and arrange me so that I was on my back with my legs wide apart. I was equally out of it when he got between them, covered his fingers in lube and waited.

I finally woke up when he shoved two fingers inside me when I was still sore although the bleeding had more or less stopped. Bastard probably knew that it would have by then, probably checked. Anticipating my shocked reaction, he covered my mouth as I screamed.

Maybe he'd been coming in every night to check me over to see how far I'd healed every night? That thought made me shudder as much as from the pain as anything else.

'Time to pay again. Ya healed up nicely now – didn't expect what I just did now to hurt ya as much as it did.' His voice was dripping with fake sympathy. It didn't make him take his fingers out anyway.

'Yeah, you did, ya fuckin' bastard!' I hissed into his hand and did everything in my power to get him off me, but he just laughed at my futile attempts. Kept on moving his fingers in and out, occasionally scissoring them, making me whimper in pain.

'Shh, nice and slow, son. That's it. Relax. What d'ya say now that ya already done it once, we try again? It'll be easier this time, won't hurt as much, promise.'

Of course, it wasn't and it did.

My terror at that prospect combined with my mounting panic and revulsion made me lose all rational thought and I bit down on his left hand. Hard.

He let out a cry and tore his hand from my mouth. He shook it furiously, sending blood flying everywhere as he cursed under his breath.
Apparently, he'd got sick of punching and slapping my face or he was worried about what Merle would say now that he was home because he gave me a hard punch to my side instead. I was winded for a moment and unable to breathe.

The he snarled down at me 'What was that, boy? Do I really need to fuck ya into submission again? I thought we went through this already?'

'Fuck you! I wish I'd bit ya dick instead of jus' ya hand!' I growled defiantly back at him.

'Watch it.' He warned me, and I knew that I was stepping dangerously close to receiving some serious pain.

'Merle, wake up! Ya piece of useless shit, ya hear me?! Wake the fuck up!' I yelled as loud as I could. I was becoming desperate now.

Dad gripped my throat, squeezing it slightly; 'Why do ya bother? He ain't never gonna come ridin' in here on his white horse and rescue ya – when will you get it? Now, ya play nice now like a good little boy and I won't hurt ya, not too bad, anyway. That's generous of me considering what ya jus' gone and done, bit my hand like a rabid dog. And what ya just said to me too.'

He did pull out his fingers, but then grabbed my pillow instead.

For a brief moment my life flashed passed my eyes, my early childhood had a few gems of happiness. But as I grew older, the happy memories were replaced by ones of fear, hurt and pain.

So much pain.

I almost wanted my life to be over. Just so that I didn't have to suffer his gropings and his rapes or his beatings anymore.

Death would have been a blessing then. But what about Merle? Merle loved me. He couldn't survive without me.

Instead of pressing the pillow against my face though to suffocate me like I hoped he would, he just ripped off the case to make a substitute tourniquet for his bleeding hand.

When he noticed my anxiety, he smiled: 'I wouldn't dream of killin' ya. Not when we're havin' so much fun together, son. 'Cos you'd have already run straight to Merle – would've told him by now if you were goin' to. Not that it would do ya much good, boy. He's flying high as a kite, totally out of it tonight. Take into account the shit I put into his beer – really strong stuff with what's he'd already taken, even he ain't gonna wake up 'til Sunday.' He chuckled.

I frowned in confusion and winced as his fingers re-entered me. 'I mean, how about fuckin' ya right in front of him? That would be downright amazing, don't ya think?'

'Please, Dad, you're scaring me...' I hated it that I was already on the verge of whimpering whenever he mentioned doing itto me because I knew that it turned him on all the more.
And I'd whispered it but even so the sick bastard heard me.

"Enough with the sweet talk, my pretty little slut, huh?"

Then he pressed his lips against my temple while he murmured; 'Now, relax for ya dad. Let me inside of ya.'

Like I had a fuckin' choice.

I gave a half-hearted sob out of disgust when I felt him first slide in, I didn't know what else to do, damn it. Couldn't just lay there and take it.

'Come on, son. Open ya pretty little legs for Daddy.' He continued to coax me in that gentle, fatherly voice that made me want to puke my guts right out.

I took a shuddering breath, before taking a deep one. Knowing from bitter experience that breathing the right way lessened the pain somewhat. Because I needed every bit of relief I could get.

He penetrated me slowly this time. Which was every bit as bad if you asked me as I was forced to feel every inch by disgusting inch of him slide further into me. I desperately focused my eyes on the wall but he didn't like that so he grabbed my chin forcefully with his injured hand. And even as he raped me, I felt a thrill of gladness that I'd managed to hurt him for once. 'Ya look at me, boy. I wanna see ya face when I fuck ya.' I had nowhere to hide.

'No, I don't wanna...Don' make me.' He laughed and carried on pushing his disgusting cock inside me just that little bit deeper.

'Please, Daddy...don't! Don't!' I cried, reverting back to my childish name for him in my distress.

He slapped me hard then. 'I am bein' gentle – slippin' it in all nice and slow. And ya ain't the least bit grateful, ya little cocktease. Ya just need to get a grip now, don't ya? Ya sound like a little pussy. Maybe I should call ya Darlena?"

'Shut up!' Because Merle was the only one who called me that when he wanted to make me mad and I hated it when he did it. But coming from that bastard, that nickname suddenly got a whole new lot of filthy new meanings.

Fisting my hair hard enough to make my eyes well up with tears, he forced my face back towards him again. 'Now, look at me with those pretty doll long lashes, boy. What's the matter with ya? Do I need to spell everythin' out to ya? Didn't ya learn ya lesson last time?'

He straightened himself up and removed his hands from my hair only to grab my hips instead.

'Shit, Merle!' I called out for my brother in panic. I struggled because I didn't know what he was going to do but I knew it would include more pain. I received another hard slug to my other side for my resistance.

'What did I tell ya, ya little bitch?' He covered my mouth again. 'Ya dare bite me again boy, and I'll kick ya teeth in.' But I kept screaming against his hand and he shook his head. 'Why ya always fightin' me, boy? Ya know ya can't make me stop. But since ya fussin' so bad, I guess ya need punishin' a bit more.'

I frowned in confusion, how could he hurt me more than he already was? He answered my silent question by shifting and moved my legs up onto his shoulders and thrusting into me greedily. I couldn't help my cries of pain because he just went in so deep. And he smiled. 'This is what ya get when ya bad. What's so hard to understand? You play nice with Daddy, and Daddy'll play nice with you.'

Fuck you! You'll pay for this when Merle finds out! I meant to say between gasps of pain. But while I stared into his eyes, my intended words flew elsewhere. I was simply mesmerised by his contented, lustful stare and I couldn't look away even if I wanted to with all my heart.

'You're doing good, son. Focus on me.' I shouted for Merle a few more times, making me wonder if he was still at home. Even he couldn't be so fucking deaf, right? But then Dad had told me he'd drugged him. My father must have been very confident that he wouldn't wake because he wasn't exactly keeping his own moans and groans of pleasure down. Me neither since he forced me to make sounds of approval. Because he said he didn't get any the first time he fucked me.

I didn't dare do otherwise. He fucked me harder if I failed to convince him with my moans.

The thrusts kept coming and seemed never-ending.

Friday

I visibly flinched at his words, 'Daryl, stay behind. Got college options to discuss with you.' Of course, nobody believed this lame excuse – who heard of a Dixon going to college? Not that we weren't smart enough but just was never going to happen.

I glared around at the class who twittered before I looked at him with wide eyes. Entreating him silently, 'What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone!'

But he didn't back down, especially not when I tried my luck and tried to pretend I hadn't heard and leave.

'Daryl! I said stay behind!' His voice held an undertone of authority and impatience now that told me I had no choice in the matter.

When the last student had filtered out, he closed the door behind them. Turned to me to eye me with concern.

'Now, you're free to leave anytime and I'm not going to try to stop you or touch you, just like I didn't last time. I'm just very concerned about you.'

'Don't be.' I snarled. 'Anyways, couldn't ya have thought up of a better reason? They're gonna be spreadin' rumours 'bout us even more than they are already. Don't ya know that Dixons don't go to college, Carl?' I snapped at his stupidity.

He merely raised his eyebrows at my bold use of his first name.

Come on, Daryl, son. You can tell me. What's going on at home?' Seeing that I wasn't in a hurry to go back there, he tried to get me to give up my secret. Like he did on Monday. But I had refused to tell him – something in me still wanted to protect my sick excuse of a father, I guess and besides, I was ashamed of letting him do that shit to me. For getting caught stealing in the first place – giving him a reason to start punishing me in a different and far more twisted way.

'Sometimes physical abuse can escalate into something worse. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?' He didn't let up.

I stared at him and said nothing, leaving him to jump to his own conclusions. He'd been right so far.

'I know ya probably hate me for keep bringing it up like this.'

I nodded and frowned shortly after. 'Ya right, I hate ya for even mentioning sick shit like that about my Dad!'

'Daryl, let me put it another way. Does he do more than hit you?' Rogers patiently repeated, ignoring my outburst.

There was a silence for a couple minutes as I went back to sitting on the desk just staring ahead of me at the map of Europe, not able to look at him. It was like it had been put there deliberately to taunt me, wishing I could just take up and fly away there to be with Eric. If he thought it was serious abuse just when dad beat me that time, what would he think about what he was doing to me now? All I wanted was to get away from Dad and Rogers and all the other useless adults in my life.

'Come on, son. I just want to help ya. I promise you'll feel better if you say it out loud.'

I sighed and looked down at the floor then, hunching my shoulders without answering him. Apparently, this confirmed his suspicions because suddenly he was by my side. Even as I curled away from him.

'No, no…don't.'

'Sh. It's OK...' I felt him gently stroking my hair and breaking his promise. I was horrified at the same time that I couldn't deny it felt nice being touched even by him without expecting pain afterwards. I wasn't afraid that he would try and do anything else, anyway. 'You poor boy. It's all right, you can tell me.'

That pissed me off. 'Fuck off!' I snarled but didn't move away, but let him carry on doing what he was doing. 'You ain't my father.'

'I'm glad I'm not.' He retorted.

I raised my head to look at him in surprise but he just continued running his fingers up and down my nape and my head bowed down of its own accord. Like with Dad when he used to do the same when he wanted to comfort me or reward me. My nape was my sensitive spot that usually had me nodding my head in relaxation. How did he know?

'It's OK, son. You can tell me...Who hurt ya like that, huh? What happened? And when?'

I lowered my head further down as I just couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes and answer. Next thing I knew, Rogers was putting his arm around my shoulders. I knew I had to be careful, he'd learnt his lesson apparently but I still remembered when he'd lost control.

'Daryl…do you want to tell me what he did?'

'Shut up! Ya jus' the same. Jus' ya don't have the balls to go through with it...No!...' I shook him off.

Rogers immediately removed his hands and backed away to give me space. More than that even – he had torn his hands away from me, in fact. Reminding me with a jolt that I was the one in control – not like with Dad.

'You're wrong...' He continued. 'I would never hurt a child...anyone like that...Daryl, trust me, you won't be in trouble, I promise. You can trust me, son. What about those bruises on your face the other day, they're only just healing now...'

'That was my father, yeah, but he sure didn't fuck me like ya tryin' to say he did! That's totally sick!'

Before I got the chance to escape, he broke his promise again and grabbed me by my arm to hold me back. To my surprise, instead of panicking, I simply shrugged out of his grip easily. 'Let go of me, will ya?!'

'Sorry about that but I don't want to leave you in this state. Let me help. Look, I know I've scared ya in the past but it was OK last time, wasn't it? Please, please, let me just make it up to you.'

'How's that gonna make any difference to me, ya knowing 'bout what ya think ya know? I ain't sayin' you're right, by the way.'

'It'll make it a bit easier to have someone to talk to and not have to go through it alone. I already know he beats you up, don't I? That time you came to school with your arm in a sling, limping... And I also know something else happened to you recently. Pretty sure what it is too. I'm giving you the chance to get it off your chest and tell someone, Daryl. Take it.'

'Stop it, OK? Duh! Everyone knows he beats the shit out of me but why ya so sure somethin' worse than that happened, huh? Jus' 'cos of some fuckin' bruises? I can't protect myself, that it?'

Incredibly he smirked then and was even so bold to put his arm back around my shoulders. I was too wired up to even notice. 'Well, I know better than anybody that you can handle yourself, I know you don't take any crap.'

'Look, I just don't want to talk about it.'

'Look, I can stay and listen as long as you need. You don't have to tell me everything at once. Or nothing at all. We can talk about stupid stuff – anything you want to if you like. I don't exactly have any place to be – got a nice microwave meal waiting for me when I get home.'

His sarcasm wasn't lost on me, and I couldn't help but smirk at that. Everyone laughed at him because he didn't have a girlfriend – had never had one as far as anyone knew. Didn't even seem to be interested in women, even.

Of course, he wasn't.

'Do you have to be home at a particular time, son?'

'Nah.' I shrugged, knowing what he was really asking – Was I going to be 'punished' even more if I got home late? I never knew what state the old bastard was going to be in – the drunker and higher the better, in my opinion because he'd be too out of it to want to mess with me. Hopefully, he would overdose on whatever he put in Merle's drink. On the other hand, he could as easily hit the roof if he was sober enough because I was home from school late.

Rogers seemed to understand without me saying anything. 'Just tell him that your teacher made you stay behind to discuss your grades.'

I stopped myself from laughing out loud at that – a bitter little laugh. Has if he would believe it. Bastard would see it as yet another reason to believe the rumours and that the teacher was still 'at me'. He was still hounding me now and then about the identity of the teacher who had 'hurt' me so. As if what he did to me wasn't damaging me. I had almost laughed in his face at him asking me that. What a deluded, shameless hypocrite my father was.

Before I could stop myself, I felt the familiar shudders of dread going through my entire body at the thought of going home and tried to hide it by swinging my legs. But he never missed a thing, but didn't comment. However, he squeezed my shoulders as he stepped closer to me.

'Back off.' I snarled warningly. 'Thought ya promised no touchin'!'

Again, incredibly, he snapped his hands back and they left me. 'See? I don't mean anything by it this time, Daryl. I just want to be there for you, son.'

I felt trapped with nowhere else to go, and I guess nothing left to say neither as I could see in his eyes that stubborn glint that my brother got sometimes. Anyway, someone in my situation couldn't afford to be fussy, I had to take my breaks where I could find them.

It suddenly got harder to breathe at the unfamiliar feeling of being safe. I gripped the edge of the table hard as I tried to regain control over my emotions. But it only seemed to make things worse. He approached me again and tilted my chin up and stroked my cheek so fast that I barely had time to register it and flinch away. 'Come on, what does your Daddy do to you, sweet boy?'

I knew I could make him take his hands off me immediately just by telling him to, but still, I knew he wasn't going to let me leave until he got the truth out of me. Not this time, he was too determined. So, I forced myself to go almost emotionally numb, much like I did when that bastard threatened me back home. 'Don't know what to do anymore… He's always there, but my brother ain't. Got no other place to go, neither. Especially now that Eric's out of the country. Lucky bastard, I was 'sposed to be with him...'

'He stopped you from going to Italy?' His voice rose in disbelief, while his hand still stroked the hair on my nape gently up and down, keeping me calm. 'An opportunity to travel like that?'

'Of course, he did. Even though it wouldn't have cost him a dime. Eric's family in Europe are loaded, would have paid everything for me. But no, turned out Dad had big plans for me this summer,' I watched him wince badly at my bitter, sarcastic tone. 'Now I know what they were.' I punched the palm of my hand with the fist of the other. 'Piece of shit planned this, just waiting for me to fuck up one last time.'

'I'm so sorry, Daryl. How long has it been goin' on?' His voice rose in alarm and he gripped the back of my neck firmly with one hand to steady me.

Those words hit something inside me and all I wanted to do was hide and be comforted. I sagged against him then as all the fight I had left in me dissipated to my horror. But at least I didn't break down and cry like a sissy like I was on the verge of doing. He put his arms around me without saying a word. I don't know for how long we were like that because time seemed to stand still.

'It's OK, baby.' He murmured in my ear after a while.

Unfortunately, that was exactly the wrong thing to say to me and the spell he had cast over me with his soft voice and gentle touches suddenly broke. 'I ain't ya baby and ain't never gonna be! Get the fuck off me!' I wiped my treacherous eyes and shoved him away. Violently.

'I'm sorry – I didn't mean it like that. Please come back, Daryl. I know how hard it is to talk about something like that but you were about to tell me!'

'I want you to leave me be in future, ya hear? I ain't ya problem. Not for much longer, anyway. So - forget everything I said.'

'Daryl…please. You know I can't do that and I'm really scared for you if you go back home now to him. He might kill you or …or…'His voice faltered.

'Well, don't be. See ya around, Sir.' My last contemptuous shot back at him as I practically ran out of the classroom door.

But maybe I did feel a little better because at least someone knew. Someone had seen which is more than I could say for my useless, junkie big brother.