AN: I just wanted to thank all my wonderful readers for the support and awesome reviews! You all rock! Normally I try to PM each of my reviewers, but I apologize, I didn't get to that this time. I'll try to do better on this chapter. The response I've gotten is much more than expected and I'm thrilled to be able to give you all a story to enjoy. :)
Also, I have to thank my husband, this story wouldn't be half as good without him. I'd actually written and posted the first two chapters before I told him about this, and knew where I'd planned on going with it, but with his creative input and ideas it's turned into much more than I think it would have been. And now I have an editor to read through each chapter before posting and someone to ask about weapons and such lol. Thanks baby!
The sun was shining brightly, occasionally accompanied by a scorching breeze. However, it was a welcome respite from the stuffy, stillness in the air that would settle over one without it. The hot wind blew through Daryl's sweaty hair, cooling the boy marginally.
Even at the tender age of seven Daryl was a loner, he didn't really get along with the other kids so he usually just hung out by himself. It was a blazing August afternoon, and he was out at the creek looking to catch some crawfish. Despite the heat, he'd rather spend his day at the creek alone and forgo his lunch than stay at home. Dad would probably stumble in soon from a bender the night before, and Daryl had no wish to be anywhere in the vicinity when that happened. He couldn't hide out in his bedroom; he had to share with Merle who'd taken the room over last night to get high on crank and fuck some random whore he'd picked up. So Daryl'd spent the night on the couch trying to catch a couple hours' sleep and ignore the sounds coming from down the hall. After awhile he'd resorted to turning the T.V. on to create a sound barrier, of course nothing was on, and he fell asleep to some cheesy infomercial trying to get balding men to buy their new 'miracle product' .
"Whooo!" Merle's voice shattering the quiet startled Daryl out of sleep causing him to fall off the couch to the floor. He looked around frantically for a moment trying to determine what had woken him so jarringly. After a few moments, he realized it'd been Merle reveling in getting high, or maybe getting laid, again. Grumbling, Daryl looked out the window to see that the sun was barely up yet. Not wanting to face his loaded brother or the slut of the day he'd spent the night with, Daryl heated up a hot pocket and grabbed a can of coke from the fridge before setting out for the afternoon. He'd wandered aimlessly for awhile before deciding to hang out at the creek.
He spent hours at that creek catching and releasing all kinds of critters: crawfish, toads, rolly-polies; he even tried to catch a couple fish with his bare hands, he got pretty close a few times but never actually managed to catch one. It was starting to get dark and grudgingly he decided he better be getting back. With any luck, Dad would already be out again, or maybe he never even came home today; and hopefully Merle'd ditched the skank by now. Maybe he could sleep in his own bed tonight. At any rate, he could seriously go for a peanut butter and jelly and some cheetos.
Daryl sighed, disheartened, when he got home and found that Merle was still locked up in their room, probably with that same bitch. If that was the case, they'd probably be in there for another day or so, damn. At least Dad wasn't home. He went to the kitchen and made his sandwich; rather than have his chips on the side he put them directly on the jelly. Merle always made fun of him for that but he didn't care, it tasted good; besides over the course of his short years he'd devised ways to make his meals as complete and quick as possible in case he didn't get a chance to finish. He found the watermelon Kool-aid was still in the fridge; he poured himself a glass and settled down on the floor to watch Wile E. Coyote in futile attempts at catching the Roadrunner while he enjoyed his meal.
He'd only eaten about half of his sandwich when the front door swung open and Dad came stumbling through. Shit, he must have been out all day as well as all night, meaning he'd be as lit as the night sky on the Fourth of July. Daryl stayed as still and quiet as he could, taking small bites of his sandwich, hoping that the crunch of the cheetos wouldn't disturb his father. Dad had never really liked Daryl; his mother had died giving birth to him and Dad made it very clear that tragedy was all his fault.
His father stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer before making his way to the living room and taking the remote from the floor beside Daryl, not before cuffing the boy on the head first, of course. "Stupid ass cartoons," his father muttered as he flipped through the channels and settled on some old Cops re-runs.
Daryl really wished Merle'd let him back in their room; he had nowhere to go now. He couldn't sit on the living room floor with an empty plate or he'd get yelled at, and if he left the room to put it in the kitchen it would be taboo to re-enter the living room; that left him the kitchen. Last time he'd fallen asleep at the table had resulted in an ass whooping he had no desire to repeat, so what was he to do? Suppressing a sigh he got up to take his plate and cup to the sink, he started washing the dishes by hand since the dishwasher didn't work; hopefully Dad would pass out soon, then he could at least lie down on the floor near the T.V.
He'd finished the few dishes in the sink when his father stormed into the room. "Did you take my smokes again, boy?" the words came out slurred and menacing.
"No," images flashed through Daryl's mind of the singular time he was foolish enough to sneak just one of his dad's cigarettes and it was not a fond memory. He'd ended up with a black eye and a broken arm over that stunt; and while he'd enjoyed the nicotine novelty it simply wasn't worth the repercussions, he'd never do that again.
But his dad was worked up tonight and didn't much care what the truth was, "I know you took 'em, you ungrateful little shit!" he spat, approaching his son with violence in his eyes.
"Dad, I swear! I didn't take 'em!" Daryl was cowering away from the frightening man, looking around, panicked for an escape or something to defend himself with. As his father continued to approach him, he knew he had to act fast and darted around a chair and under the table, hoping to put enough distance between himself and his dad that he could make it to the door. He'd just spend the night in the woods; it was preferable to this.
No such luck. He'd nearly made it when something hard hit him square in the back before falling to the floor and shattering around him. He let out a yelp and lost his footing, slamming head first into the door, then crumpling in a heap at its base. It'd been a coffee mug his father'd hurled at him, and he was now towering over the small child. "You done fucked up now, you little bastard." Daryl could smell the booze on his father's breath as he leaned over him and yanked him up by the arm. With a swift motion of his father's arm, he was sent flying into a wall knocking the wind out of his lungs.
He lay there, desperately trying to catch his breath, as his father began violently kicking every inch of his small body while screaming obscenities and insults at him. Tears mixed with blood were streaming down his dirty face, there was nothing he could do but cry and take the beating. He was beginning to think Dad might actually kill him this time and even beginning to welcome that thought, at least in death there'd be no more pain, no more suffering; but then faintly he heard an angered cry. Merle.
At some point, Merle'd heard the commotion coming from the front room through his drug induced stupor and finally emerged to find his father beating his kid brother senseless. He flew into a rage at the sight. He may beat on the poor kid himself sometimes, but never like this; this was unacceptable. At 17 he was already full grown and just as big as the old man, with youth and crank on his side he ripped the mother fucker off his brother and began wailing on him like there was no tomorrow.
Once he had dear old dad on the ground he'd kicked him in the face so hard the old man was literally spitting teeth, then Merle shoved him out the front door informing him, in no uncertain terms, that if he ever set foot in that house again he'd kill his sorry ass.
"Daryl, hey you alright?" Merle had a cool, damp cloth in his hand and was cleaning away some of the blood on the boy's small face. Daryl opened his eyes to find himself in his own bed and the bitch who'd been keeping his brother company earlier was nowhere in sight. Just him and Merle. He looked up at his brother, his hero, and knew that he was finally safe. "Yea," he whispered, "I'm ok."
Pain was his world, it was as if it was emanating from within him. He groaned trying to will the discomfort to abate. Vaguely, he could make out words floating from disembodied voices above him. Things about blood loss and can he be moved right now? How long could they risk staying here anyway? Daryl wasn't quite sure what the voices were going on about; however, they sounded familiar, but he couldn't place names or faces to them.
"I think he's coming around. Daryl! Daryl! Can you hear me?" he became aware of a pressure on his neck and the pain he felt before seemed to be originating there. The voices sounded concerned, terrified even. He felt he should reassure this person that he could hear... her? Yes, this last voice was decidedly feminine. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words he attempted sounded incoherent even to himself. The fuck was that? Why couldn't he talk, or open his eyes for that matter? What the hell was going on?
He felt himself being lifted by two sets of arms, causing agony to shoot throughout his body. It was nearly overwhelming, and unbidden a low moan escaped his throat.
"Shh, its ok, Daryl," came that woman's voice again. "You're gonna be alright. Don't you worry."
But that did make him worry, because there was something in her voice that wasn't entirely convincing. And honestly, that scared the shit out of him.