First, I want to say thank you for all of the reviews. I also want to apologize for the lack of an update recently. I wish I could say life has taken over but the truth is I have spent most of my nights, when I should be sleeping, trying to complete a 18,000-piece puzzle. Very boring I know but some sick part of me wanted to see that little girl having a picnic with her dogs complete and sitting atop my dining room table. I hope now that my mission is complete I can go back to life with reckless abandon. Staying up until 3am writing fanfiction. Also, I'm pretty sure that jigsaw puzzles are ranked the 4th leading cause of divorce.
AfterShocksAreFatal- Thank you for the kind words and I hope I can continue to keep you hooked.
myharlequinromance321- Thank you! It means so much that you enjoy my story. It's my 1st time writing but I hope to get better.
Eemmah- Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I wanted to keep it as realistic as possible and I'm glad you don't find it boring or too slow moving. Your comments made my day!
Sheechire – I appreciate your comments. Just to clarify, I am not in the medical field so I know some things might be wrong. However, in the 1st chapter I wrote that Mel had bruising and evidence of dried blood when Maggie changed her clothes. I hoped to show evidence of what happened to her but also show that it wasn't a too recent of an event. She had been walking around the woods alone, what she figures is about a week. It is not known how long before that she was assaulted because her sister and father die after it happens at separate times. As far as the fresh blood when she takes a shower I can't say anything other than she has been moving non-stop, giving no time for healing. If that doesn't make sense medically then I apologize but I am trying to make the story progress and I am new to this. Of course, I welcome corrections but sometimes I might make facts bend for the sake of the story. Let's face it I'm not getting paid for writing this, it's just a hobby.
Chapter 4
Mel's POV
"Is it hard?" I ask as Daryl walks over to a tree and pulls the arrow out of the squirrel he just pinned. He turns and looks at me with his left eyebrow raised slightly. I quickly realize what I said and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I end up stuttering a few times as I try to elaborate on what I was asking, "Shooting the crossbow I mean? I know how to shoot a rifle but that's about it."
"Ain't easy."
"Can you show me how sometime? If that's alright."
After all the time we have spent together I have become accustomed to his mannerisms and I don't even flinch when he spits on the ground while handing me the limp body of the squirrel. I put it in my shoulder bag. Adding to the growing pile. He could probably make a coat out of all the squirrel skins he has been collecting.
"We should start heading back now. Told Hershel I'd help him with something." My face drops a little bit when he doesn't answer my question and I start to worry that I might have crossed a line. We don't really talk much so I don't know what exactly our boundaries are. I don't actually think we've carried on a real two-sided conversation with each other. Which is weird because I feel like he is the only person that really understands me.
He starts to head back and I immediately fall in line behind him. I concentrate on placing my feet in the same spots he does. His steps are silent and while mine are quiet it still sounds like Bigfoot is making his way through the woods each time I move. Completely disrupting the serenity of the forest.
My thoughts continue down another line of thinking and a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a release of breath escapes me.
"What's so funny?" Daryl asks without turning around.
"It's just I was thinking – never mind it's stupid."
"What?"
I'm tempted to lie and say I was thinking about a joke I heard once but then he might ask to hear the joke. Then I would be embarrassed because all the jokes I know were learned in third grade. So, even though he will probably think it's ridiculous I tell him, "I was just thinking about what it would be like to run into Bigfoot out here in the woods."
The reaction is pretty much what I thought it would be.
Silence.
Then he clears his throat before he surprises me, "You ever heard of a Chupacabra?"
Not what I was expecting but okay, "Yeah I remember my teacher talking about it in Spanish class. It's a creature that sucks the blood of goats or something, right?"
I can see the back of his head nod in agreement and I almost run into him when he abruptly stops walking. I stand next to him and use the opportunity to take a drink from the canteen Daryl gave me. He pulls out an almost empty pack of cigarettes and lights one.
After a deep inhale, he starts talking again and a cloud of smoke exhales when he does. "I saw one once."
"A Chupacabra?"
"Yeah." Another draw from the cigarette. "I was squirrel hunting couple of years back. North Georgia, where I'm from and I heard something big coming through the trees. I had my bow raised and it was in my sights. Was an ugly son of a bitch."
He isn't making eye contact with me but I don't think he is joking.
"Were you scared? Did you shoot it?"
"Damn near pissed my pants but I figured I was bigger than a goat." After one last draw, he throws the cigarette on the ground and stomps on it.
"You're braver than me. I wouldn't have stepped foot in the woods again." I bring the bottle to my lips again but stop halfway when I see Daryl watching me. His eyes look like they are scrutinizing me. I have the sudden urge to crawl into myself but that reaction might just be from the permanent scowl on his face. "What?"
"You believe me?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I? You haven't given me a reason not to trust you and honestly, I didn't think dead people could get up, walk around, and eat the living. Plus, did you know scientist discover over 15,000 new species a year? Granted most of those are insects but who's to say…" I stop when I realize I am jabbering on and he is just staring at me. "Sorry. I watch a lot of animal planet or watched a lot of animal planet."
He shakes his head and adjusts the crossbow on his back. "C'mon", he mutters then starts walking again.
I stare at his back as we finish making our way toward to the farm. I try to get a read on him but I come up with nothing. Not that I was ever good at reading people but I honestly have no clue what he is thinking or what he is going to do. Everything is a surprise when it comes to Daryl.
"Tomorrow I'll show you how to use the crossbow."
See? Surprises.
My chest tightens as I stand in the doorway of Beth's room. Maggie is lying in bed with Beth tucked close to her side while she reads from a well-loved picture book. The scene before me makes me wonder if this is how my sister and I looked when we were younger.
Harmony's favorite book was, The Velveteen Rabbit. Every night for months she would beg me to read that book. After a while I hated having to read the same thing over and over until one day I hid it. Tucked it deep in the linen closet on the top shelf behind the "good" table cloth. Somewhere Harmony couldn't reach it and no would think to look.
Now, watching Maggie sweep Beth's hair off of her forehead, I want to take back what I did. I want to read that book to her as many nights as I'm allowed. I haven't thought about that storybook for years. It only took about a week of Harmony searching for it before she moved on to another favorite bedtime story. Still, the regret I start to feel over that is fresh. Like it happened yesterday. It was something simple. Something that made my sister happy and only took a few minutes of my time.
Without saying anything I quietly turn around and leave. Maggie and Beth are lucky; they still have each other and I wasn't going to take away a second of their time together.
I need to keep my mind off of past memories before they continue to take over and I give into the same darkness that keeps me awake. It's like looking at a photo album with your grandmother. Each picture has a story, each story has another story, until eventually the original photograph you were looking at is forgotten and you are swept up in her walk down memory lane. I can't let myself think about what I have lost. Not yet anyway.
There will probably come a day when I can think about my sister without seeing her face with the unfamiliar look of despair etched on it. Hopefully that day is soon because every precious memory I try to recall of her and my father eventually transforms to that night.
"Want to lend a hand?" Carol startles me out of my thoughts and I find that I'm standing in the kitchen. I don't remember getting here. She is rolling some kind of dough and smiling at me as she waits for my response.
I try to hide the shaking in my hands and I plaster a (hopefully convincing) return smile on my face.
"Uh Yeah. Let me just wash my hands." I have to roll up the sleeves of Daryl's shirt since they hang off of me. It would probably be easier to remove the shirt but then I would have to take off his vest and I don't want to do that. "What do you want me to do?" I ask as I dry my hands on an old dish towel.
"If you could stir the pasta, that'd be great."
It seemed a simple enough task. It would be hard for me to mess that up, so I grabbed a wooden spoon. The sound of boiling water is the only noise in the kitchen. Unlike in the woods where I enjoy the lack of noise this quiet is unsettling. It almost feels like the universe is building up to something bigger and the water on the stove is the dramatic soundtrack. I stop stirring and instead watch as the bubbles come to the surface before popping, only to have more take their place.
It looks like the water is about to boil over when a hand lands on my shoulder. I jump, my wrist catching the rim of the pot and a flash of pain radiates from the spot. I hiss at the pain as my other hand grasps my burnt wrist.
"Let me see." Carols' hand reaches out but I cradle my arm to my chest in an attempt to stop her from touching me. Her own hand drops to her side and she stops moving toward me. "If it's alright Mel I'd like to see."
I look at her. Unlike Daryl, I can get some sort of read on her and I see an understanding expression on her face. The first thought that comes to my head is that she was probably a great mother. She just had that motherly look to her. Slowly I show her my wrist. The ache has dulled slightly but the reminder is still there. She smiles at me, highlighting the small lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth, as she looks at the reddened skin.
"I'm fine, just zoned out for a second. I'm really no good in the kitchen." My voice sounded more strangled then I intended.
"Tell you what. I'll have Lori come in here to make sure the kitchen doesn't burn down and why don't you and I go ask Dale for some Aloe. It'll take care of that sting."
"Really I'm fine. I –I don't want to bother anyone."
She waves her hand. Dismissing what I said. "Nonsense. Dale will be happy somebody needs something out of that over packed first aid kit of his. It'll make him feel useful."
"Sure." I said.
I wasn't sure why I do. My wrist is fine; it is really nothing serious. But I also find myself wanting to make Carol happy. It is probably because I know she is still hurting from the loss of Sophia. Maybe she still has that maternal instinct and wanting to help me is how she deals with it. She does insist on feeding everyone.
It doesn't take long for her to lead me out of the house and toward their small camp. When I see it from the hill it always seems to be the epicenter for them. Now, there is no one around. Glen is helping Hershel clean out the stables. Lori and Carl took our places in the kitchen. T-Dog and Daryl are mending a fence. The only person I see is Andrea, and she is perched in a chair on top of the R.V. A rifle by her side. I knew Rick and Shane left earlier this morning. Daryl said something about them taking that guy they brought back a couple of days ago away from the farm. I'm not really involved with anything that goes on here so I have no opinion in the matter but it does feel a little wrong to leave an injured guy all alone.
Carol knocked on the open door of the older R.V. and I heard a confident voice respond, "Come in."
She smiled at me again. Probably making sure I hadn't turned around and run away yet, which I was tempted to do. Then she disappeared into the vehicle.
I search for Daryl. It's a habit I have recently developed when I'm not sure what to do. I can see him out in the pasture. He is a good distance away but now that I know he is near I feel a little better about going into this very confined space with a stranger. I'm pretty confident that he wouldn't stick around if these people were terrible human beings.
I'm still watching him as I finish working up the courage to climb up the three stairs after Carol, when he stops hammering. I am not certain but I think he is looking at me. Which is ridiculous, as far as he knows I am still in the house talking to Beth like I told him I was going to do. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I take one last deep breath and go inside.
This is the first R.V. I have been in and I'm surprised by how much room there is inside and how homey it feels. Carol and Dale are sitting at a small table with an open first aid kit in front of them. It seems that Dale stockpiled bandages and band-aids. Both of them stop their quiet conversation when they see me standing at the door.
"Well it's not every day I'm graced with the company of two beautiful women. I just wish you didn't have to tangle with fire in order to be here Mel. Why don't you take a seat?"
I blush a little at his compliment about my appearance. If it was anyone else, I would probably take it as flirting but I know he doesn't mean anything by it. I had a lot of older customers at the restaurant I worked at part-time that would call me gorgeous, doll, honey, and any other pet name you can think of. It was harmless and they never meant anything by it. They were just from a different time so I know Dale doesn't mean anything either.
I take the seat he left and sit across from Carol. She immediately gets to work and applies a small amount of aloe to the inside of my wrist. The cool gel instantly relieves the burning sensation and I find my shoulders relaxing.
My eyes stay on Dale since, in my head, he is the bigger threat. He is no longer paying us any attention and has moved on to searching the cabinets above the couch. The only time I have spoken to him was to say the occasional hello but he has always been very pleasant to me. In fact, he reminds me a lot of my grandfather. He even wears the same goofy hat that my Pop-Pop did.
"Ah ha." He shouts. When he turns around he is holding something shiny in his hand. "I have been saving this for a special occasion and I think today is the day."
The silver wrapper pulls back and my mouth starts to water. Chocolate. He breaks the bar in half and gives one side to Carol. Then he lays the other half in front of me. I want to shove the whole thing in my mouth but I stop myself.
"Thank you but I can't take this." I push the milk chocolate back toward him.
"You're not taking it. I'm giving it to you." His smile never leaves his face and I have to admit it is contagious. He pushes it back. "It'll make this old man happy."
Carol finishes wrapping my wrist in gauze then pats my hand. Dale has already sat down on the couch and is reading a book. I take the chocolate and wrap it back in the foil he left it sitting on. It is a simple gesture, giving me something like that but it means a lot to me. I am starting to see that these people, that I have tried to distance myself from, are not out to take whatever they can from others. Most of them have been caring toward me.
"Thank you Carol." I say as I stand up and slip the chocolate into the pocket of my shirt. "Thank you Dale."
I don't wait for them to respond before I make a hasty retreat out the door. I hope they understand I'm not trying to be rude. I just don't know how I will react and I'm afraid I might break down and cry if someone offers me anymore kindness.
I quickly wipe my sleeve over across my eyes. Stupid tears.
It's hormones, right? That's the reason I am so emotional over chocolate. Yep, that has to be it.
I have only made it about ten feet away from the R.V. when I stop. I'm just standing, lost and not sure where I should go. I see Andrea briefly acknowledge me with a nod then she turns her eyes back toward the woods. Hershel is scooping feed into a bucket near the chicken coop and I head his way. It's probably time that I start helping out more. Daryl's vest on my back is a comforting weight and a reminder that I'm not alone.
"Your pity party is officially over." I tell myself as I roll the sleeves of the flannel shirt back down to cover the white bandage. It's a stark contrast to my skin. Which thanks to my time in the woods has a nice sun kissed look to it now.
As I get closer to Hershel, something catches my eye and I head toward the barn. I start to hear frustrated grunts and mumbled curses. I'm not sure what I am witnessing as I stand at the entrance.
"Please Goat help me out a little." It appears as a last-ditch effort Glen has resorted to pleading with Nancy, the goat. "Let me help you." Then he kneels down and pulls on the poor animals' teat. Nancy responds appropriately by trying to get away from his molesting hands.
"First time milking a goat?" I ask.
"That obvious huh?"
My hand runs down Nancy's neck and start to utter baby talk to her. "It's okay. Did mean Glen hurt you?" Talking to animals is something I have done since I was a child. Growing up on a farm, sometimes the animals outnumber the people. Plus, who's to say that they don't understand me? So what if they can't respond? I grab a handful of hay and lay it down in front of her. She eagerly starts to eat on the snack.
I take a spot next to Glen and sit down on a milk crate. It is not the most comfortable position but it's better than trying to hunch over.
During the fall festival, at our church daddy would bring some of our goats out so that the younger kids could try their hand at milking them. For some reason the festival always had a prairie frontier theme. Thanks to volunteering every year, I've given this speech more times than I can count.
"First you want to clean out any bacteria that might be built up. Just do a squirt from each teat but don't let the milk land in the bucket." I demonstrate what I say "You also don't want to tug on her. It is more of a pinching and squeezing. Grab a couple of inches up onto her utter and squeeze your thumb and pointer finger together. That will trap the milk. Now just bring your other fingers in like you are making a fist. The pressure will squeeze the milk out." The sound of milk hitting the metallic pan can be heard.
"You know, you make that look really easy."
"Do you want to try now?" I ask Glen who is still watching my hands. He nods then takes my spot when I stand up. His first attempt only yielded a few drops of milk. "Make sure you keep your thumb and finger tight." I correct him.
After he takes my corrections he manages to get a steady rhythm going and milk is starting to fill up the pan.
"I'm doing it!" I can't help but smile at the excitement in his voice. "Hey Daryl. I'm milking a goat."
"Congratulations?" I jump when Daryl's gravelly voice comes out of nowhere from behind me. When I turn around I see that he has taken the spot I occupied in the doorway. The sun shining behind him silhouettes his outline causing me to squint in order to see his face. I hadn't heard him approach and I had no clue he was standing behind me. How long has he been there? Someone needed to put a bell on the man. If it wasn't for the others being able to see him I would think he was a ghost.
I leave Glen to finish up and I walk over to a stall. Since it is getting colder, especially at night, I know Hershel moves the goats and a few other animals into the barn. There is a shovel laying against the wall so I grab it and start to muck out the stall. I forgot how much work goes into running a farm and it doesn't take long before I start to feel the sweat beading up on my chest.
Somewhere along the line Daryl started to clean the stall next to the one I am working on. The wheelbarrow is full and my stall is clean so I grab some more straw to lay down on the floor. Then I do the same to Daryl's newly cleaned stall while he works on the next one. We work in the silence that I have gotten used to as Glen proudly carries his bounty up to the house.
Daryl is finishing stalls before I can finish laying the hay down in the one he just cleaned. Daddy would have loved to have him on the farm. He is like a machine with one goal in mind. When he is done in what has to be record time he helps me finish my job.
The stalls have fresh bedding, and Daryl finally takes a deserved break. He sits down on the milk crate and takes a drink of water. He has done more work than I have but he looks in better shape than I do. He is a lot less sweaty and his face isn't flushed at all. That tells me that he probably did a lot of physical labor. I put my hand in the pocket of my shirt and I feel the gift I received earlier.
I break off a piece and offer it to Daryl.
"What's that?" he looks at my hand like it is something poisonous.
"Chocolate."
"I know what chocolate is. What happened to your arm?" He nods toward the bandage peeking out of my sleeve.
"Oh. It's nothing. I was helping in the kitchen earlier and burned my wrist. Carol wrapped it up but I think that was a bit overkill."
He takes the chocolate from my hand and pops it into his mouth. "Should be more careful." Is said as he chews what I gave him.
I nibble my own piece because I want it to last and because I don't have a response to Daryl. I know I need to be careful, I am the only one looking out for me now. I don't have daddy or Harmony to run to anymore and someday I probably won't have Carol or Daryl. I'm slowly coming to terms that this is just how the world is now.
"So, what new and inventive way are you going to serve up squirrel tonight?" The lighthearted comment is meant to break the severity of my own thoughts. Daryl starts to stand up and I know he is planning to take the wheelbarrow outside. "You know I think I might want to cook tonigh—"
"No." Daryl cuts me off and gives me a serious look as he walks past me.
I'm left standing with my mouth open. Did he just try to make a joke or should I be offended?
Maybe I am just use to spending my day out in the woods with no one but Daryl, but before the sun even starts to set I am exhausted. Trying to socialize and keep my own sanity at the same time is a lot of work.
Right now, with just Beth and Maggie sitting on the porch with me I'm fine. They were people I knew before and I can almost pretend that in this moment we are at a barbeque Hershel is throwing to celebrate the last few days of decent weather. The sound of a car speeding up the dirt road quickly breaks the false reality I am trying to imagine.
I know it is the vehicle Rick and Shane took earlier in the day for their task that no one wants to talk about. Because everyone knows sending a man alone and injured is sentencing that man to death. Nobody wants to have blood on their hands so everyone is willing to pretend it wasn't happening.
Blissful ignorance is what my grandmother would call it.
The group is already gathering closer to the house as they silently wait for the unspoken confirmation. The car makes a sudden stop near the porch and I watch as Shane gets out of the passenger side. I sit up a little straighter when the door is slammed behind him. Like everyone else I immediately notice the dried blood on his clothes and several cuts on his face. Not to mention his already blackening right eye. I'll admit I'm curious what happened especially when I see Rick. He is looking just as bad as his friend. Maybe worse.
"What the hell happened?" Lori runs to her husband and looks over his injuries. My eyes stay on Shane because I trust him about as much as my skills in the kitchen. His hands clench into fists by his side before he jerks his gaze away from the reunited couple. Then he stalks to the back of the car and opens up the trunk. I watch as Rick tries to stop him but Shane ignores him and is already dragging a third person out from the small space.
I cringe when everyone starts to ask questions at the same time and the sounds start to compete with each other. The unknown man is limp and I know the only reason he is still vertical is because Shane is holding him up. His hands are tied behind his back and a bag is covering his head just like last time.
"Everyone please." Rick is trying to regain control of the situation but his calm voice is lost in the cacophony.
A shrill whistle shuts everyone up. It sounds just like what my daddy would do when he wanted us to come in from outside. The two fingers in the mouth trick. A technique that I never mastered. Daryl is leaning against the railing and nods for Rick to continue.
"We ran into trouble on the road. We are alright but we need a couple of days to figure out how to go about dealing with Randall."
I guess the third person is named Randall. Shane is shaking his head at everything Rick is saying and I am able to put two and two together. Clearly the trouble on the road was with each other. Both men have broken skin on their knuckles and Shane still has that dark look of veiled hatred in his eyes as he watches Rick talk.
Randall starts to show signs of consciousness and Shane lets go of him. Still not fully awake Randall falls to the ground and lands on his side. He doesn't attempt to get up but I can hear a muffled sound of pain come from him.
"He will stay in the shed just like he has been. Same rules apply. No one go nears him."
"Do we treat him like our prisoner or something?" Dale asks.
I watch as Rick looks around the people gathered around him until he stops at Shane. I can't say exactly what emotion passes between them but I do know it isn't friendly.
"Yes."
I can't be the only one who hears Shane scoff at Rick's one word answer. When I look around I see a lot of indifferent faces. I'm not sure what my own opinion is on the matter. At least with Randall locked away we know he can't hurt us. Plus, he is actually safer as our prisoner then he is fending for himself so maybe it is a win-win situation.
The group starts to break off into smaller clusters and I can hear some of them already gossiping about what they think might have happened on the road. Lori is trying to persuade Rick to come inside and see Hershel for his injuries. All the while Shane is still trying to burn a hole through Rick's head with his eyes. Personally, I have had enough socializing and drama today. I feel like I deserve a nice quiet night in the tent away from everyone. Well, almost everyone. Since rediscovering my love for reading I have substituted sleep for the temporary escape that a book brings. I'm almost done reading the Patterson novel but I can't finish it until Daryl is with me. I figure he has sat through me reading most of the book so he at least deserves to hear the ending.
I see him still leaning against the side of the porch. He is watching Shane and T-Dog as they untie Randall's legs so that he can walk on his own. I imagine they plan to take him to what is, for the foreseeable future, his new home.
I watch as Shane gets impatient and pulls Randall up by the ropes wrapped around his arms. T-Dog hasn't finished removing the loose binding from around his legs so when Shane forces him to take that first step he trips over the obstacles. The sudden change makes Shane reach for Randall but he only manages to grab the bag that is hiding his face. As he falls to the ground the covering is pulled off and for the first time I see who he is.
Daryl's POV
"Wh-What is he doing here?"
When I turn around I see the girl staring at the kid. Her voice is wobbly and I instantly know something is wrong. A second ago she was fine. Now her arms are wrapped around herself like she is trying to pull my vest closer to her.
"Why?" She turns her green eyes toward me. I can easily read her emotions and right now is no different. They are wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. When I don't have an answer for her she goes back to staring at Randall. T-Dog has put the bag back over his face but the girl isn't calming down. "He can't be here."
Walking backwards her head keeps going back and forth in an almost violent way.
"He can't be here!" Now she is screaming and her breathing is coming in wild bursts. When her back hits the house, giving her nowhere else to go, she slides down and buries her head in her knees.
I run up the steps. Stopping when I'm by her side. It's obvious she is crying but I can't make out what she is saying. I bend down, putting me at the same level as her.
"He can't be here. He can't be here. He can't be here." The repetition is strangled between her sobs.
"Get him the hell out of here." I shout. Everyone is too busy standing around watching the girl have her breakdown. It doesn't take a damn genius to see that the kid is what set it off. I look at Shane who is staring at the girl. His face is blank until he looks back at the kid still in his grasp. As he pushes Randall toward the shed his eyes go back to the girl a final time. That's when I see a smirk on his face.
It sets off alarms but I force them into the back of mind as something I'll have to deal with later.
"He's gone sweetie. Let's get you back inside." Carol is on her other side and thank God for that. While I am lost trying to figure out what to do she steps up and knows exactly what to say. The girl doesn't move and shows no acknowledgement that she heard anything Carol has said. "Daryl is going to carry you in. Okay?"
No response.
My hand hesitantly reaches out to her and hovers over her arm before I decide to pull it back. I know she is retreating into herself, the last thing I want to do is startle her into a full-blown panic attack. Hell, by the way she is breathing she might already be having one right now.
I scrub my hand against my face, feeling several days' worth of growth on my face. It does nothing to ease my own frustration that is building up.
Today was almost normal. The girl and I went hunting in the morning. She surprised me when she said she believed my Chupacabra story. Even Merle dismissed me when I told him my account of what happened. He thought it had something to do with the shrooms I had taken earlier that day before heading out.
Then when we got back to the farm I expected her to spend the rest of the day in the house away from everyone. So, it was another surprise when I saw her in the barn showing Glen how to milk a goat. She was trying to move forward. No longer a walking shell. I had actually seen her smile while she ate the small piece of chocolate she shared.
Yep, today was about as normal as you could ask for these days.
Only to be ruined when the girl saw Randall's face. A sick feeling comes over me when I think about why she is reacting this way. The only movement she is making is a slight rocking motion. Carol is trying to calm her down but I can see she is also afraid to touch her.
This is getting us nowhere.
"Let's go." I say as I stand up. When she doesn't move, I kick her leg gently with my foot. "Move it. Let's go."
She stares up at me with stunning yet broken eyes. I barely resist the urge to go to the shed and beat the hell out of that kid for making her this way. Instead I start down the steps relieved when I hear the now familiar sound of her small footsteps not too far behind me.
Mel's POV
As much as I hate the one dream that haunts me, right now I definitely prefer it to reality. If this was a dream I could wake up. Then after some deep breathing and a few hours I could forget it happened and go about my day. This isn't a dream. I knew it as soon as I saw his face. It might have been different from the last time I saw it but I will never forget it.
That was the face I had begged and pleaded with. The face that my sister and daddy had asked for help. That was the face that did nothing.
Thinking about that details of that night just drags me back there. I'm still too raw to open myself up to that again. Refusal to let that happen has my feet moving. As fast as I can I run. It's a futile attempt to carry me away but maybe the more distance I put between myself and that face the better I'll feel.
I pass Daryl. No longer needing him to lead the way. The tent isn't that far now and it has the distraction I need.
The damn zipper of the opening gets caught on the tent fabric. They do not make these things easy to get into. What if it was an emergency? What if I was being chased by a bear?
I take a deep breath and force my hands to slow down. Once I hear the zip sound, I waste no time getting inside. Then I grab the book that is still sitting on my sleeping bag. Opening to where I left a blade of grass as a bookmark I start to read. It's my last-ditch effort to be anywhere else but here. So far, my attempts at forgetting have failed.
The Past won't die.
Rick seems to be doing most of the talking but I can only hear Daryl's guttural voice.
"Ain't I done enough for you people?"
I sit the book down so I can try to make out what Rick is saying. I jump slightly when Daryl's angry voice comes out of the silence.
"Hell no, and if any of y'all go near her I'll put you on your ass."
Night has taken over. Thanks to the glow of the fire I can see the two outlines of the men. They are both similar in height and build but I know that it's Daryl pacing around and the movements vaguely remind me of a caged animal. I've seen him act like this a couple of times but always from a distance and only when he is forced to deal with someone from the group.
He is like me in that we both prefer to stay away from the others. I keep silent and watch. Emotions were not something Daryl wore on his sleeve and aside from anger I hadn't seen anything else from him. Now he is upset. Guilt rises up inside me because I know it has something to do with me.
More unknown words are said on Rick's part before he starts back toward the R.V. Daryl kicks the ground then sits down in front of the fire. I haven't moved from my spot because I didn't want them to know I was awake. No one has checked in on me and I know that I have Daryl to thank for that. He has been a sentinel for the tent, threatening anyone who tried to get near it.
I've calmed down. All it took was convincing myself that Randall couldn't hurt me. Rick had someone watching the shed at all times and he already spent a week on the farm before I knew who he was. Still, it took a while because my brain mapped out everything that could go wrong. The fact that Daryl has stayed nearby is the main reason my heart slowly started to settle down. My mind seemed to get the memo because the answer for every new scenario was the same.
What if he gets out?
Daryl's here.
The others might be looking for him, what happens when they find us?
Daryl's here.
What happens if… Daryl. Is. Here.
I didn't want to rely on him but since the day he found me in the woods he has stayed my one constant lifeline. Granted it hasn't been a long relationship but a part of me thinks that he is strong enough for the both of us. I know it's a lot to put on one person but everything he does only solidifies my thought.
When I stand, it feels like my legs aren't able to hold my weight. I wait until my equilibrium seems to return then bend down to open the tent. I don't miss it when his black form stiffens up at the sound of the zipper parting.
"Suppers ready." He says as he holds up a stick with a squirrel on it.
Normally I would appreciate the obvious avoidance of my situation. A distraction from my situation which has become the elephant in the room but I hate seeing him upset. I hate even more knowing I am the reason for it.
I take what he offers. The face of the once furry creature looking back at me doesn't even register anymore. It's food. I need food to live.
Yeah but why are you living?
"What did they want?" I am surprised by how strong my voice is. Especially after the whispered thought I just heard.
"Nothing."
I could argue with him. Tell him that they obviously want something from me but do I want to push the subject? Do I want to know what he was trying to protect me from? The answer is a simple, no.
So, I change the subject.
"Are we still going to do the crossbow tomorrow?"
"I've got something to do in the mornin."
"Oh. Okay." I say and I'm proud of the fact that I don't sound disappointed.
"We can go out after if ya want."
I did. It made me feel even more uneasy knowing that man was on the farm. I wanted the distraction. I needed the woods.
I've never been out this far before and I am completely lost. If we just keep moving everything will be alright. We can find someplace to stay. We can find water. We can find food.
"Do you think we should go this way?" I ask out loud but I'm not really expecting a response. Neither Daddy or Harmony have said a word for three days. I had joined them in the silence on the first two days, allowing myself time to process what had happened. But I knew that we couldn't sit around anymore. It wasn't safe.
Plus, I was going to go insane if we didn't start moving. Everywhere I looked was a stark reminder of what the world had become and how dark the souls of men could be.
Afterward daddy just cried. Each sob pushing me closer to the edge of my own sanity. I had never seen him breakdown. Not once in my life. He was the rock of the family. He was always there to wipe our tears. Even now I wanted to turn to him for what to do next but I knew he was just as lost as I was.
Not being able to take anymore, I held Harmony closer to me as I pulled both of us to our feet. Harmony was no longer crying but she wasn't herself either. Gone was the vitality in her eyes, only a dull shine left behind. She still had the same look now.
After a day of walking everywhere I turned looked the same. Trees, Trees, and Trees. Shouldn't we have found a house or road by now? I had no clue that Georgia still had so much uninhabited land. Then again, I could be leading us around in one big circle.
The sun is starting to set and all we have is a tent. We need to find someplace to stay. I walk over to daddy who is several feet behind us.
"Which way do we go?"
His eyes stay downcast. He hasn't looked at us since the incident. Grabbing his face, I force him to meet my gaze.
"We need you." I plead with him but his response is to pull away, drop to his knees, and start crying again.
I want to shout at him. Ask him, what he has to cry about? He didn't have to suffer through the acts of those sick men. I didn't blame him before but Harmony and I need him now. We need our rock. The building anger that I have no way to get rid of has my hands curled into fists. I am about to tell him how I feel but then I remember his screams from that night. How he tried to get to us but the gun pointed at his head stopped his efforts. I remember how they made him watch. I remember how he begged for them to let us go.
I shake my head to dislodge the memories and see Harmony is still standing where I left her. Every step she takes is because I'm dragging her. I can't do this on my own. I'm so lost and I don't just mean directionally either. Sorrow pushes the anger out of my fists and I take a deep breath.
"I'm sorry daddy. I'll set up the tent here tonight. It'll be better in the morning."
It couldn't get much worse.
That night I hold Harmony as her body shudders from her silent sobs.
"Why us Mel?"
It's the first time she has spoken since she became the living doll I've been dragging around. I wish I did but I don't have an answer for her because I honestly had no clue. I settle on what daddy often talked about during his service.
"God doesn't give us more than we can handle. We will get through this."
"There is no God." She spat and my hand stills on her back. She is the most devoted person I know. I'd often find her giving daddy pep talks or quoting scripture at him. "I'm not made for this world Mel."
I wake up sweating despite the cool air touching my skin. Looking around in the dark I relax when I see Daryl's sleeping form on the other side of the tent. I don't remember falling asleep but I know I've been exhausted lately. So maybe my body just shut down on its own.
Still unsettled by the dream I know it will be a while before I can go back to sleep. Reading is out because I don't want to wake Daryl and there is no way in hell I am going outside the safety of the tent right now. Under the light of the sun I would have no problem going for a walk but nighttime has a habit of making everything scarier. The last thing I need is to have a heart attack because I mistake a dead tree for Daryl's chupacabra.
Laying my head back down I start to play the imaginary piano that calms me when I'm stressed. Normally I would just make my finger go over scales but I want something that keeps my mind busy. Fingertips tapping a song that only I can hear, I close my eyes and imagine the sleek fabric of the sleeping bag is actually the hard keys of a piano.
The song I choose matches the mood I woke up in and it isn't long before I quietly start to sing along to the silent notes.
"Shadows are fallin' and I'm runnin' out of breath.
Keep me in your heart for a while.
If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less.
Keep me in your heart for a while."
I'm unable to give the song what it deserves. Warren Zevon wrote it when he found out he was dying. It was his way of saying goodbye.
"Hold me in your thoughts.
Take me to your dreams.
Touch me as I fall into view.
When the winter comes
Keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you."
I'm forced to stop playing the notes in order to wipe the tears off my face.
Jesus, I'm a broken mess. I've done my best to avoid everything and just when I think it is working something happens and I fall apart all over again. Each time worse than the last. I keep telling myself to get over it but nothing is that simple. Rage and sorrow are in a constant battle inside me, neither of them willing to tap out. It's to the point that I'm starting to question my own mental state.
It's only going to get worse when I start to show. Carrying around a physical reminder of what happened to me. Then having to care for it. How am I supposed to deal with this on my own?
Daryl's POV
The anger I felt last night, as I listened to the girl trying to quietly endure whatever she was going through, is what brings my fist up another time. The only noise in the barn is the kid breathing heavy and the quick sound of my fist connecting with his face.
Another punch followed by a sickening crack. His bound arms make it impossible for him to block the blows landing on his face.
I barely register the burning pain in my fist after I bring it down on his face again. This time the chair he is tied to falls over and he spits out a mouthful of blood.
Beating up on some kid wasn't my normal thing but I can see where Rick is coming from. The group needs to be protected. The thought had crossed my mind to let the sheriff deal with the problem he created by bringing the asshole back to the farm in the first place but Rick was a good guy. I knew what they all thought of me. To them I was nothing more than some white trash thug who would have no problem roughing up someone for answers.
God forbid any of them get their own hands dirty.
The only reason I agreed to do this was to keep them away from the girl. They want answers and an interrogation is the last thing she needs right now. She hasn't had a damn moment to catch her breath since I've known her. Finding out about being pregnant after what she went through was enough to push the strongest person over the edge. She was still standing and I wanted to keep it that way.
Anger rises to a new level when I think about her reaction when she saw this piece of shit and what it could mean.
The thud of skin on skin contact sounds out and I have to shake my hand to dull the ache.
"I told you-"
"You ain't told me shit!" I grab him and slam his head against the wall.
"I hardly knew those guys. I met them on the road." His nose is making a whistling noise and I know I've broken it.
"How many in your group?"
He hesitates to answer but I'm not going to let him take a break. Pain is the only advantage I have. I take out the knife the girl was carrying and make a show of bringing it around so his eyes are forced to follow it. I want to see if recognition sets in but all I see is terror filling his face.
"NO. Come on man. Don't do this. Please."
I move into his personal space, glaring at him. Then I slam the knife down beside his leg and it buries itself in the wooden floor.
"HOW MANY?"
"30. 30 Guys."
"Where?"
"Uh-" I rip off the bandage on his leg and listen to him scream at the pain. "I don't know I swear. We were never any place more than a night."
Pressing the tip of the blade into his healing wound I continue questioning, "Scouting? Plan on staying local?"
"I don't know. They left me behind."
"You ever pick off a scab—"
"Come on man I'm trying to cooperate."
"—Start real slow at first." The tip cuts a few of the stitches as I push it further into his skin "Sooner or later you just gotta rip it off."
"Okay! Okay." I ease up on the pressure so he will keep talking. "They have weapons. Heavy stuff. Automatics. I didn't do anything."
"Your boys shot at my boys. Tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You tryin to tell me your innocent?"
"Yes! These people took me in. Not just guys a-a-a whole group of 'em. Men and women. Kids too. Just like you people." I stand up. Listening as he continues to talk. "Thought I might have a better chance with them you know? But we go out, scavenge. Just the men. One night we -we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters. Teenagers ya know? Real young. Real cute."
At his words my knuckles turn white as I grip the knife tighter. At the same time my stomach drops as I replay his words in my head. The girl had said she was in the woods with her father and sister. She looked young. I stop moving and turn to face the kid who is still talking. He is oblivious to how close he is to death.
"The dad had to watch as these guys they…and they didn't even kill him afterwards. They just -they just made him watch his daughters. Ju-just left them there. Bu-But I didn't touch those girls. No I swear, I didn't touch thos-"
Something snaps inside me. I knew there was a reason she was terrified of him. I had an idea of what happened to her but hearing it out loud made me want blood on her behalf.
Kicking his injured leg, I almost gain a sick pleasure out of hearing his screams.
"Please-Please. You gotta believe me. I'm not like that. I ain't like that! Please ya gotta believe me. Please."
I think about the girl holding the knife to her stomach. How hopeless she looked. I see the fear she feels anytime someone comes near her. I think about the rare times she smiles and how it's a small glimpse of the life she once enjoyed.
Did she beg him to stop?
I kick him until his wound reopens and then I take out the anger I'm still feeling on his face. The sound of bone cracking vibrates around the room.
My knuckles are raw and bloody by the time I stop myself. My breathing is labored and sweat rolls down my face. It takes everything in me to physically stop hitting him while he's still alive. I walk over to the corner to try and get my shit together.
I've always looked up to Merle but I've never wanted to be him. Our daddy ran deep inside my brother at times. Usually showing itself in barfights that he would start over something stupid. I realized that my older brother reveled in other people suffering. Maybe it was because of our shitty childhood and how we were always put down. Maybe that's why Merle liked to feel superior to others. Hell, maybe he just liked beating on people. I never asked.
That wasn't me.
I've already crossed my own personal line by doing what I just did. I hate that I want to keep going. I hate knowing that I wouldn't lose any sleep tonight if he died. People who preyed on others who were weaker than them made me sick. I am by no means a good person but I've spent my life trying to stay out of my father's shadow.