"Turn it, Daryl." He glanced at his brother and turned the stick he was holding.
"How do you make it stay on? Every time I do it, the meat falls off."
"Weave it on. You gotta get bones on both sides of the stick." Daryl nodded, and didn't notice his brother staring at him. Merle looked over the younger boy's arms, looking for any sign of their father's rage. Aside from the occasional scar or bruise from every day wear and tear, there was nothing. No handprints, no welts from their father's belt or cooking utensils. He was clear, and it made him feel a little better. "Daryl, I gotta tell you something." Daryl looked at him and Merle froze. Looking into the expectant eyes of his baby brother filled him with shame for what he had planned. "You know I care about you." Daryl nodded. "You know if anyone ever hurts you, they're dead." Another nod. "I don't get all pussy about emotions and whatnot but I wanted to make sure you know I give a shit about you."
"I know." Merle nodded and stayed silent for a minute before looking at him again.
"Does Dad ever hit you? Beat on you like he does when he's drunk and pissed off?" Daryl felt his heart jump into his throat. He'd already been warned by their father, that if he said anything, both boys would get it worse than they'd ever had it before. He remembered the careful aim of his father's hand, as he landed his strikes on Daryl's thighs- the only place he was sure nobody- including Merle- would see. Torn between obeying his father, or being honest with his brother, he shook his head, not wanting their father to go after both of them. "You need to tell me if he does. Don't lie and try to act tough." Daryl shook his head.
"I'm not. He doesn't." Merle nodded.
"Okay, then." It was settled and Merle felt a little disappointed. Part of him had hoped Daryl was being beaten so he'd have an excuse to stay. Protecting him would give him a reason to reconsider his plans, but if Daryl was safe, there really was no reason to stay.
"Why?" He snapped out of his daze and looked at him.
"Huh?" Daryl turned the stick he was holding.
"Why'd you ask?" Merle shook his head.
"It's done." He said, poking Daryl's dinner with his own. They took their food out of the flame and carefully began picking at it. Merle found himself getting slightly annoyed each time Daryl burned himself, but not upset enough to say anything. "You going to school?" Daryl nodded.
"Yeah but I don't want to."
"Nobody wants to but you got to. You gotta finish."
"You didn't." Merle shook his head.
"No, I didn't. You gonna do everything I do? Drop out cause I did?" Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "No, you're not."
"Why do I gotta keep going? It's boring and the other kids are assholes."
"The world's full of assholes, kid. You run from one bunch of 'em right into the arms of another. You gotta stay and beat them down so the next ones know not to fuck with you." Daryl nodded and licked his fingers. "You like any girls?" Daryl shook his head. "You're not a faggot, are you?"
"No. The girls here are gross."
"Beggars can't be choosers, Daryl. You gotta learn to settle sometimes. You're young now, but eventually you're gonna have to fuck someone. You sit there waiting for Miss Right in a field full of flowers and sunshine and you're gonna be a virgin til the day you die."
"I'm not the one begging." Daryl snapped back. Merle smiled and laughed to himself, impressed by Daryl's comeback.
"Are they?" He asked. Daryl smiled to himself, embarrassed, and kept eating. They talked for a while longer before putting the fire out and getting in the tent Merle had stolen from a schoolmate's backyard years back. It didn't take long for Daryl to fall asleep, but Merle stared up at the ceiling of the tent until he thought the sun might come up soon, at which point he pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and put his blanket over Daryl before getting out of the tent as quietly as he could. Daryl didn't wake up for another four hours, and he thought nothing of his brother being gone. He always slept longer than Merle. It was the piece of paper on Merle's side of the tent that drew his attention, and he grabbed it, rubbing his eyes as he unfolded it.
daryl
i knew if i told you i was leaving, youd throw a fit. truth is, your alot stronger then i am and i cant take it no more and now that i know he dont beat you, i know its safe for me to leave. youll be ok, he wont go after you like he has me. ill fucking kill him if i stay any more. remember all the things i told you and take care of yourself. we'll see each other again some day i promise. - merle
Daryl shook his head, breathing harder and trying to keep himself from crying.
"No... No no no... Please-" He jumped out of the tent, not paying attention to the cold air as he searched for his brother's dirtbike. It was gone. "Merle!" His voice echoed through the woods and he did the only thing he could think of doing- he ran. He followed the footprints left by Merle as he rolled his bike out far enough to not disturb Daryl as he slept. He stopped running only when he saw the footprints disappear and he looked for disturbances in the leaves covering the ground, but the wind was kicking up and covering any tracks his brother had left. His frustration kicked in and tears welled up. "Merle!" He looked around, listening for any sound that might lead him to his brother. "I lied! I lied, Merle! Please come back! He does- He hits me too!" He listened for a response, not caring that his brother would slap him around for lying. He wanted it. He wanted Merle to hear him and come back pissed off, then stay to protect him. "Merle!" He couldn't stop himself from crying. He looked back in the direction he came from and around again, backing up and wiping his nose on his bare arm before turning back. By the time he made it back to the tent, he was crying for a different reason and he took a stick and began beating the tent down with it, finding satisfaction in the sound of the pieces breaking. He sat for a few minutes after, collecting his thoughts before beginning to gather the pieces of the tent and rolling them up to fit in his backpack. Once he had it zipped, he slung it on his back and started on his way home, where he knew his father was waiting. He'd want an explanation about his missing son, and no matter what Daryl said, it would anger him. He'd go into a rage and now, with Merle gone, there'd be nobody there to take the beating but him.