Chapter 44: Breaking Point

Oh, poor Daryl. Daddy isn't finished with him yet and he's in for more pain. Anyway, I do hope someone steps in soon to save him. Merle nearly got it out of him in the last chapter…Is Daryl getting closer to telling somebody about his Dad?

Please leave kudos a review if you like this story or even if you don't! Any feedback will help the author to improve. Thanks x

Daryl

A few days later

The tears were streaming down my face making me want to wipe them away but I couldn't even do that as he had my arms pinned down. Every now and then, my chest would hitch and I would let out a reluctant, disgusted sob.

He hissed in my ear in that quiet but impatient tone that told me I was walking on a knife-edge.

'It's only fuckin', it's only sex...why ya cryin', son?'

He panted the words out between his gasps and moans of pleasure as he pounded his away inside of me.

'I thought that's all boys ya age ever think about...jerkin' off and gettin' laid...'

'Not with their daddies they don't!' I whimpered and kicked out furiously at him.

He didn't even seem to notice as he stroked my hair like he used to before he started all this shit. And for the life of me I couldn't stop the tears or my sobs when I'd nearly always managed to hold them in before. Distance myself from what was going on so that I barely felt anything but it was different this time. I didn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction but I couldn't stop my body letting me down, behaving like a sissy.

'Fuck you! Merle's gonna kill ya when he finds out...'

'Ya think? Says he ain't gonna be back for at least a month – got to lie low - 'cos of some asshole called Axe he says he pissed off.'

'You saw his note too?' I breathed in alarm – that was bad news. Very bad news for me if my father had seen the note on my brother's bed… He knew then he could do what he wanted with me with no fear of Merle suddenly returning and I couldn't even threaten him with him. I'd screwed it up and thrown it out of his window as soon as I had spotted and read it with my heart sinking down to the floor. Trust the old bastard to get there before me. Four weeks or more with Dad…during which I would graduate from school and be more than ever at his mercy - I simply didn't know how I would get through it.

I couldn't take much more – it was clear from my freaking breakdown. Now I knew the reason for Merle's urgency – his uncharacteristic roughness with me that verged on violence when he tried to make me tell him about me and Dad. He'd resembled our father quite a bit then and for the first time I was even a little scared of him. Like when he'd threatened to hold me down on the floor and not let me go until I told him the truth was like something Dad would say. Anyway, I should have figured that he'd take off after all the trouble at the bar. Would I have told him if I knew he was going to leave me with dad for so long?

Maybe/Maybe not.

Would he have taken me with him if I had?

Then Dad said the sickest thing yet that made my heart freeze in my chest.

'Merle kill me? That's if he's able to stop himself from joinin' in. Reckon he's left 'cos of his unnatural feelings for his own baby brother?'.

He chuckled filthily in my ear and even though Merle had never hurt me before, my trust in him wavered. Dad was right something between us had definitely changed. For example, all the little touches lately but nothing sleazy and the adoring way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't looking. But he didn't really know me – didn't know about the dirty things I did with our Dad.

'No, he ain't sick like you! He's my brother!'

'Well, I'm ya father and it don't make no difference to me.' He mocked.

'That's because ya an evil, perverted old faggot!' I retorted.

That made him so mad that he didn't even have a clever taunt for me back as he slammed my head against the wall. Luckily, I saw stars and passed out although not for long enough but it was a short respite of sorts. Little did I know that my relief would be short-lived – the bastard would never show mercy.

I came too with him throwing a bucket of cold water in my face. At least he wasn't inside me but now that I was fully conscious and could fully appreciate it, he went about thrashing the hell out of me.

'This is for not satisfyin' me the first time. If ya jus' had done that and not made me mad and knock ya out, maybe it would all be over now!' He screamed, punching and kicking me and worse – I couldn't see what he was going to do next because of the blood streaming down my face. I instinctively put up my hands in front of my face to protect my head and something must have told him I'd had enough because sure enough, he was by my side soon after. As he leaned in close and whispered filth in my ear, he excited himself to the point where he started to stretch me again. At least he was using lube.

I didn't beg him to stop but for the life of me, I couldn't stop the tears from falling again. I hurt fucking everywhere, and to realize that he wasn't done with me…

Besides it seemed like I was always on the verge of tears these days – ever since Rogers had somehow guessed what he was doing to me and I had slumped into his arms in a pathetic show of weakness.

'Come here, boy.' Dad snarled the word and drawled it out with such dirty sleaziness that I turned my head away when he pulled me closer towards him by my hips. Ready to enter me again after a brief, perfunctory preparation. I could sense his furious impatience.

'Daddy ain't finished with ya yet.'

I started to fight him as good as my bruised and battered self could when he lit his cigarette up. Instead of smoking it he placed it in the ashtray and left it to burn before he shoved himself into me; keeping himself flush against me with his hand around my throat.

'Can't get sidetracked from my beautiful boy by a lousy cigarette now, can I?'

'Fuck you…'

'Stop fuckin' cryin'!' He scolded. I knew I was treading a fine line but for the life of me I just couldn't stop the whimpers or the tears.

I kept thinking about how my teacher had touched me even though I hadn't confirmed his suspicions, how gentle he'd been and considerate of my need for space. But at the same time apparently, my body had just been aching for comfort and a caring touch that didn't lead to pain. Maybe I was wrong about Rogers and he wasn't so bad after all. I even got to thinking that he was quite handsome in his own way despite being like – twice my age - and wondering what it would be like to have him inside me instead of Dad. Would it hurt like it always did with my father? Would he stop if I told him to? Maybe I would even enjoy it with him – other people enjoyed sex – my brother was always telling me how amazing it felt. And I'd often heard his moans and those of his girls next door enough to make me more than a little aroused and jealous. How would it be different sleeping with a girl? Which would be better – with a man or with a woman? Did Merle really want me like Dad said he did?

No! It wasn't true! Asshole was just trying to mess with my head or make himself feel better about what he was doing, if he was capable of feeling guilt at all, that was.

I stared at an indiscriminate shadow on the ceiling that kept moving in time with his forceful thrusts. Maybe the bastard had convinced me that it was my fault and I had believed him, that I deserved it somehow. That I'd led him on for years, like he accused me but now I finally realised the truth. He was raping me and it wasn't my fault – my teacher made me realise it was wrong. This 'punishment' was above and beyond anything I could have done to deserve it.

Hence, the tears.

'Dad...' I sobbed. 'Jus' fuckin' stop! Please! It fuckin' hurts!'

'Stop complainin', you fuckin' little pussy. What if ya brother was here now – see ya cryin' like a little bitch? Ain't very Dixon-like if ya ask me.'

'If Merle was here like I already said, ya'd be a fuckin' dead man!'

He shook me but didn't stop his vicious thrusts, pounding me into the bed so that the bed-springs jiggled and screamed in rhythm to his disgusting assaults on my body. I was whimpering with pain and terror, as well as humiliation.

'Please, Dad.' I didn't even reply with a snarky comment or cutting insult like I normally did. Hating my pathetic and submissive pleadings because for some reason, all the fight had left me.

'Don't, ya hurtin' me!' I whispered at a particularly painful thrust and immediately let out a deep sob – I seemed to have no control over my mouth or my emotions today.

He cuffed me hard for this before snarling in my ear but even that sound soon gave way to his moans.

'Just give it up already, son. I know ya like this. I can show ya how if ya want. Make you come nice an'...'.

Just the thought of that made me feel sick, I'd rather take the pain. Before I knew it, I had blurted out thoughtlessly:

'No, I don't fuckin' like it – not with ya! Jus' stop! Please!' I couldn't hold back my weeping.

'Not with me?' His tone had become dangerously soft.

Suddenly there was silence so thick in the room you could probably hear a cotton ball land on the floor. His hips even stopped moving.

'Why, who else do ya let fuck ya besides me?'.

'No-one! Didn't mean anything by it. Just wanted ya to stop that's all!'

'Fair enough, I'll get it out of ya later. You really beg for it in my fantasies and I sure prefer it when ya willing in 'em. Gotta use my imagination when you're not around.'

I ignored this disgusting piece of too much information as the sobs continued to rack my body and I couldn't stop them. How could he ever think I was willing?

'Shut the fuck up cryin!' He growled in frustration but I felt him slowing down inside me. 'Otherwise things'll get a whole lot worse.'

But his threat only made me sob harder. I guess I'd finally reached the edge of my endurance and I no longer cared. Because what else could he do to me?

I clearly had no idea.

'Fuckin' little pussy!' He screamed in rage and shook me like a rag-doll. But his thrusts inside me gradually became slower and weaker.

'I can't do this 'cos ya spoilin' my fun. Cryin' like that. Like I'm rapin' ya or somethin'.

And to my amazement, he finally stopped and slid out of me. All it took was me crying? Why hadn't I wept before?

Because I was a Dixon and too proud, that's why. Besides, crying or showing any other form of weakness during one of Dad's 'punishments' usually brought more pain.

'Alright, alright, I stopped. Got myself outta ya like ya wanted.' He crooned at me and even petted my hair comfortingly but I didn't know why he had pulled out.

He'd never, ever listened to my screams and pleadings for him to stop before.

Bastard had more stamina than most for his age.

All the worse for me.

Because afterwards when I'd managed to stop him, I wished I'd let him carry on fucking me because what came after was a lot more painful and a lot more drawn out. If I'd just let him...it would have been over a lot sooner. Just like he told me before.

I lay there bleeding and realised that I must have passed out for the second time that day. The sunlight was rapidly fading from the window. I don't know how long I was out of it from a particularly savage kick to the head because I saw him come back into the bedroom with a knife in his hand. I instantly quailed. He hadn't used his damn hunting knife on me for years but I remembered how deep he cut and the agonizing, burning pain that followed.

'Now, then. Maybe this'll make ya behave yaself. I'm gonna come inside you before the day is out. Jus' can't fuckin' stand it when ya cry - not exactly a turn-on for me.'

I was too terrified to speak but it wasn't like he hadn't cut me before.

He started to prepare me and in between, he'd trace the knife down my back...the threat was clear. If I cried or pleaded with him to stop, he'd cut me.

'Now, you don't cry and show me ya like it instead otherwise I'll cut ya. Come on, son, ya know what to do. Help ya Daddy get it back up.' He threatened and coaxed me at the same time.

He was soon back inside and shook me in frustration when I kept silent. No tears this time. 'I said make some noise to show how much ya like it otherwise I'll cut ya!'

He got really angry when I refused.

'Fuckin' slut. What about that other boy I saw ya with, huh? Another fag, jus' like ya. Ya should like what I'm doin'.'

'I fuckin' don't! Don't ya dare bring Eric into this! Besides, you're my fuckin' father – how can ya do this to me?'

I immediately cursed myself for giving him my friend's name – more information he could taunt me with.

I cried out in pain when he deliberately went in deeper, his rage at my lack of co-operation making him even more rough. At the same time, my bruised ribs were throbbing from the movements. My whole body was in agony – both inside and out.

'Ah, my poor little boy.' He petted my hair even as he continued to pound me into the bed mercilessly. 'See all this as punishment to make sure ya'll never like it again. I never wanted to have to do this to set ya on the straight and narrow with girls.'

He quickly changed his tune.

'Liar – don't believe ya! That ain't why ya doin' it!' I yelled back. 'Fuck ya! Ya gonna go to hell for this!'

He cuffed me hard enough for my head to bang against the wall again and I saw stars. Even though I was already bruised up. I wondered how long it would take to heal enough to show my face at school this time. Probably it would be the summer holidays by then and I wouldn't have to go. What about the exams? My teacher told me not to let my bastard father take them away from me as well.

My head and face amongst other parts of me was throbbing and I prayed that he would be come soon. But there was no sign of that, the asshole was probably deliberately dragging out my suffering – he knew how to do that.

He was stroking my hair again and murmuring encouragements in my ear which was somehow worse than his brutality.

'Nearly there. Not long, now son.' He whispered. 'Oh...fuck...ya little ass is so tight...' He groaned.

'No! Get off me. Please, Dad. I don't wanna...' I whined.

He reached under me and felt my face. 'Shit! Still fuckin' cryin' jus' like a little sissy. Stop it!'

But I couldn't.

'I told ya to fuckin' stop that!' He screamed at me and my own scream soon followed him when I felt a sudden sharp stinging pain between my shoulder-blades and a wetness dripping down my back.

'You fuckin' bastard!' I screamed.

Jesus! Didn't any of the neighbours hear? No, they never did, apparently. Probably just thought it was another Dixon beating.

'Told ya what would happen if ya didn't play along - act like ya enjoy it.'

'I don't!' I wept pathetically. 'Ain't gonna pretend for ya, ya sick fuck!'

'Told ya to stop with that!'

But I hoped, I prayed...I could sense that he was about to come soon. 'If ya don't...' He left the threat left hanging ominously in the air.

It was no empty threat. Now I felt a burning on the back of my neck – even worse now that he was grinding the lit end of the cigarette into my skin as he came! Timing it sadistically perfectly.

The agony of that was combined with the disgust and disbelief that I always felt when my own father came inside me, no matter how many times he raped me.

He let out a deep sigh of contentment and went limp on top of me. Bastard didn't slide out straight away but gripped me tightly to him on the bed. Even then I wasn't free of him. At least he threw the fag-end away.

'Had to do that. Ya cryin' nearly turned me off...'

'Get out of me!' I screamed, struggling in panic because he was still inside.

'Fine.' He replied reasonably and pulled out of me.

But not before he reached down to ruffle my hair. I turned my head away from him in disgust to face the wall. Even feeling his disgusting fluid dripping out of me unless it was blood – I was sore there – sore everywhere – probably I was bleeding back there too. I always did with him and having never been with any other man, I thought it was normal.

How was I supposed to know?

He made some noise of sympathy deep in his throat and tried to turn my head back to face him but I recoiled. 'Don't.'

He backed off. 'OK, then.' He said incredibly.

'Ya remember that next time, ya hear! Don't like ya snivellin' and cryin' – almost couldn't...um... rise to the occasion.' He laughed then at his own dirty joke.

I didn't say anything in reply, just prayed he would leave soon. Not do anything else.

I breathed an audible sigh of relief when he finally got off my bed and I heard him gently close my door.

I immediately turned away and curled up in foetal position. I had a plan. This was by far 'the worst punishment' I had received so far. He'd been at me for hours...I fought against the greyness threatening to swallow me at the edges of my vision, sensing that once I gave in to the darkness, I would never get away.

Probably wake up to him inside me again.

I trembled at the thought.

I had to leave...I was also terrified that the bastard would come back later for another repeat performance. I was also beat up pretty bad – the worst thrashings I had received since I couldn't remember when. And all because I couldn't stop crying while he forced himself on me.

I racked my brain for safe places I could go but there was only one I could think of.

Mr. Rogers'. But I knew he wanted me too - what if he hurt me like Dad did? I once more became suspicious of him and his motives. Maybe he was lulling me into a trap?

Would he force himself on me too? I cursed myself, not for the first time for still being small and underdeveloped for my age.

I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. He wasn't that twisted – maybe he'd come onto me – probably, but he'd backed off when I told him to. He never tried to force me like Dad. He promised he wouldn't!

I had no choice but to trust him. Because I couldn't stay there – he'd cut me, burnt me with his cigarette even as he came inside me and that wasn't even the worst of all the things he had done to me. I had reached my breaking point. Even Dixons had their limits and anyway, did the phrase 'Dixons don't cry' refer to rape, especially by your own father?

No way could Rogers be worse than Dad.

Well, if he tried something and he insisted – I'd take it as fair payment for taking me in. Anything was better than doing it with Dad. At least Rogers would probably be gentle – wouldn't hurt me unnecessarily – wasn't a sadist like my sick fuck of a father. Even though I'd feel like a whore and a slut like the bastard called me all the time. Wasn't anything new.

But a small voice at the back of my mind whispered, 'How could I be a whore when I never got paid?'

I gathered some of my meagre belongings quietly and pulled down my hoodie to hide the worst of the damage to my face – I'd glanced in the mirror on the landing and had hardly recognised myself. Would Rogers? My face was a bruised mess of black and blue. One eye was swollen shut – bastard always seemed to favour them during the beatings - and I couldn't see out of it. My head was throbbing all over and every step was agony but I forced myself forward. Grunting with effort, I pushed aside the pain to ignore it because I knew if I stayed there, he might kill me next time I didn't 'perform'. After what had just happened – there was really no longer any doubt about that.

Before I shuffled painfully out of my room and tip-toed down the stairs, I could already hear the bastard snoring like a hog in his room. So, judging it was pretty safe, I winced at my ribs and slipped out of the front door. I dragged myself along as quickly as possible despite the pain.

Just had to get the hell out of there.

I knew where the teacher lived. Would he be in?

He lived on the other side of town, practically in the sticks. I knew if I had to walk there, it would take at least 40 mins – maybe an hour or more for someone in my condition. I thought about hitch-hiking but everyone knew each other in our village and strangers rarely passed through. It was too late to get a bus and I didn't have money for a taxi. Anyway, I didn't know if I could trust a stranger – couldn't even trust my deadbeat father. Most importantly, I didn't want anyone to know where I was going – starting off the rumours again. Maybe my father would hear and come to drag me back home. I shuddered at the thought. But now Merle knew – had he had time to tell Dad that it was Rogers who came onto me before?

I hoped not. Probably not. Merle would have forgotten. Not because he didn't think it was important but … Merle was Merle. Besides, he must have left pretty early or even during the night when me and Dad were both sleeping.

The walk over there was painful but I pushed through the pain and plodded on. Luckily, all my thoughts and worries were whirling inside my head and distracted me from it.

About an hour later, I found myself standing on the doorstep of the man I didn't trust fully but who was my only hope. A man I knew also wanted me...and even as I swayed in exhaustion about to pass out again, a part of me was hoping that he wouldn't be in. Or he'd look at me like a piece of dirt for interrupting his evening, order me to go home and slam the door in my face.

Then what would I do?