Chapter 11

The scene in front of me is like something out of a horror movie. On the floor, next to the spot where Merle was handcuffed is a severed hand. I stare at it way longer than I intend to. We now live in a world where the gory and horrific is almost an everyday occurrence, but I have never witnessed the aftermath of an act of a desperate man. I have no idea how he got access to a blade, but Merle must have been determined as hell to break away from this sky-high prison. The hand is already greyed in colour and I wonder how long-ago Merle got away. Blood must have oozed violently from his stump and I wonder how he is surviving without pain relief and sterile dressings. It is mere moments since we first got to the roof, and in that time, we have both been quiet.

On first seeing the horror, Daryl screamed in anger and frustration. His eyes are leaking salty, hot tears and he clenches his fists angrily.

'Damn it, Merle!'

Taking me unawares, he kicks violently at his brothers' ex-hand, causing it to travel with speed up and off the building. His breathing comes out fast and sharp; his back is to me, but I imagine that he is silently crying, both in frustration and fear. I wonder whether I should approach him, but then I remember that he kind of hates me, and I am scared that his anger would be too much. Its possible he read my mind, as he has now turned to look at me. Those steely blue eyes are back on me and I don't have to guess at what he is thinking. His hand goes to the hunting knife on his belt, and he swiftly brings it out.

'If it weren't for you leading my brother on…'

Daryl doesn't finish his sentence; his anger is too intense. I reckon his vision is probably blurred by a red tinge. I put my hands up instinctively in defence, not quite sure how I can talk him down. I know that this isn't my fault, but the man in front of me isn't ready to hear that. Suddenly, he rushes towards me, grabbing me around the throat with his free hand. The force in which he comes at me with knocks me off my feet, and I land abruptly onto my back, feeling shooting pains rush through my core. It takes less than a second and then Daryl is on top of me, his grip still around my throat, constricting my breathing. I kick my legs, but his weight holds me down. The knife is brought closer to my face, inches from my eyes. I blink away from them, not able to move my head as he pins me down.

'I should kill you! I should fucking leave you here like a piece of fucking meat!'

I hear his violent words, but my breathing is feeling laboured, so they sound slightly muffled. My hands have come up claw at his chest, trying to push him off me. I hear the clanging of metal, as he drops the knife to the side of me. Relief rushes through me as I realise he isn't going to use it on me. I look at his pleadingly, hoping that he will relax his hold on me, allowing me to get more breath. My head is spinning, and I am seeing black dots in my vision. Daryl isn't strangling me, but any moment now I will lose consciousness, and the thought scares me.

'Daryl… Please…'

His eyes are drawn onto mine, anger glinting off them. My emotions are torn; this man scares me, probably more than what any other person has. And yet, I can't help but stare back. His hand moves from my throat, resting on my shoulder, still holding me in position. My breathing is becoming easier and I relax my hands on his battered old shirt and I close my eyes briefly. I feel his body position shifting, and I open my eyes again. Daryl's face is now inches from mine, his left hand is moving down my side, before resting on the top button of my jeans, whilst his right is sliding down my chest. My mind is numb with disbelief. What on earth is he doing?

'Daryl…'

My body is frozen, memories of Merle putting his hands on me flash through my mind and I try to swallow down the panic that is rising inside me. Not like this. Please don't do this. I hear the pleading, I want to get the words out, but my mouth is dry, and I am scared. The knife still lies close by, and I wonder whether he would use it on me if pushed. It suddenly seems like a more favourable alternative. For the past few days, I have watched Daryl with fascination, but I see how angry he is, I see how much he despises me; and I don't want him to take me like this. His hands continue to roam, but his mouth is set in an angry line; his eyes dark and broody. I need to get him off me, I need him to stop. But still I feel paralysed. My body is in shock, my head still reeling from the lack of oxygen and my natural defences are acting as they always do; by doing nothing. I rage at myself inside of my head, I shout at myself to fight back, but I just lie there. My arms have dropped down, I want to show that I am not wanting this.

'Fucking like a bit of rough, eh bitch?'

His hands roughly rip my shirt, revealing my filthy bra underneath. Tears well in my eyes, before running down my cheeks.

'STOP!'

The words burst out of my mouth, part raspy, but loud enough to make an effect. Daryl glares at me, his mouth twisting with rage.

'Please… Daryl… I don't want this… I did want it with your brother either… Please…'

My words come out with scared sobs and I look at my attacker pleadingly.

'You are the reason why my brother is walking around out there without a hand! You are the reason why my brother was even up here on this roof. You are a fucking slut! You want this! You wanted my brother! FUCKING ADMIT IT!'

And then, out of nowhere comes anger. But not from Daryl…. he is already angry. This anger is new and hot and scary. This new emotion is coming from me. Suddenly, I am incensed at what this fucking maniac is saying to me. All I have ever wanted is to survive. I have tried to keep to myself, only really talking and bothering with Glenn, and yet in the matter of months I have been molested, abused, beaten up… and with every punch I have shielded my face and cried. I have looked away and never once fought back and now… this man is blaming me for what has happened to his brother. This new feeling is surging through me and I feel braver… Fear is still etched into my pores, but I want to fight. This man will not make me a victim. Its possible that my family are out there waiting for me, and I will not let Daryl ruin my chances of getting to them.

'Fucking get off me!'

Daryl looks at me, surprised. But the fleeting look is gone as quickly as it came and he continues to hold me down, pressing a bit harder.

'Changing your mind again, bitch?'

My nerves are on fire; how dare he! Using all my strength, I kick my legs violently before bringing my hands up to smack him around the face. Instantly he grabs my wrists, pinning them beside my head. I look up into his face, knowing that my repulsion of him is mirrored.

'You are just like your fucking arsehole of a brother.'

I am shocked as the fighting words come out of my mouth, but I don't stop.

'That fucking sicko attacked me. He stalked me whilst I was sleeping and shoved his filthy hands between my legs. I told him no, but he didn't listen. That is attempted rape! You can tell yourself all you want that your brother didn't deserve what he got, but he did! And I hope he's out suffering with the pain from his stump!'

'Watch your lip, little girl!'

His eyes remain on mine, but the anger has reduced a little. Has what I said sunk in?

My breathing is fast, I am angry! For the first time in my life, I am really angry. I want to punch and kick this motherfucker. Not just for now, but for all the years that I haven't reacted when someone said something to me. The anger from my relationship break-up. The anger from when I left home. The anger from when Merle attacked me. Not exactly thinking about what I am doing, I use my strength to roll my body to the right, breaking free from underneath Daryl. He tries to grab me again, but I turn around quickly and punch him directly in the nose. The impact is exactly right, causing Daryl to instinctively put his hands up to his face and I watch fascinated as blood spurts out from between his fingers.

'You fucking bitch!'

Our eyes meet, I am angry and ready to fight if he comes at me again. But I also feel regret at hurting him. A part of me is still in there… This world needs me to not be scared… or at least not show it. I need to fight. I want to live. I want to survive. I want to be around for when I find my family. Because I know they are out there. I feel it in my heart.