"You'll never amount to anything with an attitude like that," my father screamed as he belted me across the face. The worn, leather belt tore into my flesh like a hot metal rod.
"Dad, stop!" I begged, blood pouring from my newly split lip. "Stop!"
"Harleigh Jane, your mother would be rolling in her grave if she could see what you've become!" he hollered, slamming the belt across my chest, causing me to double over in pain.
"Dad!" I cried out.
"Dad, lay off, she made one mistake," my older brother, Johnny urged. "Stop, you're going to kill her!"
The belt came down against the back of my neck. I flinched as I fell to my knees. I heard the sound of someone colliding into the wall and when I looked up, I saw my brother looking at me, panic in his eyes.
"Harleigh, run," he mouthed as he pinned our father in place. I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my coat off the floor and ran out the front door, not once looking back.
I headed straight for the trees. My bow was stashed in the small metal box my uncle had given me a few weeks prior. He knew what his brother, my father, had been doing to me, but he was powerless against my father's rage. We all were.
I knew James, my oldest brother, wouldn't come to my defense like Johnny would. Johnny and I were close. He and I had our problems, but he cared enough to defend me, even if it meant taking a licking himself.
"You'll never amount to nothing…" "You're a disgrace…" "Your mother never wanted you, you spoiled rotten bitch…"
All those harsh, cruel words came flashing through my mind as I ran. I ran until the pain in my legs caused me to stumble, to fall to the ground, sobbing bitterly into the cold, wet dirt.
"Remember, Harleigh," my uncle always joked. "If looks could kill, you'd have killed a hundred men."
I held onto that. My uncle's kind temperament. The way he always asked me how I was, despite the scars and cuts that riddled my body. The way he'd taken me out hunting every weekend, as long as I promised to keep staying strong. He'd taught me everything I knew. From setting a snare to firing a rifle. He'd taken the time, the patience and often times not, the determination to set me straight, despite my brother's being the more avid hunters of the family.
"One day, you'll use these skills and save yourself from the burden your father has over you," he promised me each and every time I ran to him crying. "Don't you ever doubt that."
…
"I hate you!" Johnny roared into the phone as I looked at him through the glass window. "I hate you so much Harleigh Jane!" I bit back tears as I rested my hand on the thick glass.
"This is for your own good, Johnny," I whispered. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make. "You can't keep running around sticking needles in your arms. You've overdosed a dozen times, big brother," I whispered.
"You're a bitch, Harleigh! I should have let dad kill you! You're nothing but a heartless bitch!" he screamed.
"I love you, Johnny. Please know that," I begged as tears rolled down my cheeks. "When you pay your dues, you'll be a free man. A drug free man," I whispered.
"Rot in hell, Leigh! The second I get outta here, I'm letting dad beat you till you're dead, ya hear me? Till you're dead! Ta hell with you!"
…
"Harleigh…" I looked up at the man in disbelief. "Your brother's dead…"
"Justin, you can't be talking about my brother," I told the man. "He's not dead. I spoke to James a few weeks ago. Johnny's fine."
"Honey, I'm sorry. Johnny's dead. He overdosed."
"No," I whispered. I clutched our son to my chest. "No."
"Leigh…"
"Shut up," I whispered. I looked down at our newborn son. His grey eyes glowed in the sunlight. "Oh, Damien," I whispered as I kissed his head.
…
"Harleigh! You rotten cunt!" his hands slammed down across my face. I flinched, memories of my father washing over me. "Look what you've done this time!"
"Daddy!" our little boy shrieked in disbelief. We had raised him to never raise a hand against a woman.
"Shut up, Damien!" his father growled, before turning his attention back to me.
"I'm filing for a divorce, Justin," I growled, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone.
"Go to hell, Harleigh."
Another slap across the face. Another bruise to add to the collection. I turned and walked out of the house, nothing but my small bag on my back. I didn't stop until I was locked in the van, leaving my son to fend for himself with his father until the courts awarded me custody.
But that day would never come.
"Wake up, Harleigh, wake up," a rough, scratchy voice called. I flinched and pulled away, instinctively curling myself into a protective ball, the nightmares still fresh in my mind. I forced my eyes open, my breathing coming in rapid gasps.
I looked at the man calling my name, stunned to see Daryl standing there, looking at me with a concerned look. Past him, I could see Maggie holding Alana in her arms. The little girl looked at me with pure fear.
"I'm okay," I whispered, forcing myself to sit up. Alana looked at me with wide eyes, her eyes shining with fresh tears. "I'm okay."
"You scared us something fierce there for a while," Maggie said lightly. "Alana came running out of here like the devil was after her. Said you wouldn't stop screaming. You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, thanks," I nodded, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Can you watch her for a few minutes?" Maggie nodded and allowed me to pass her once I climbed off the bunk. I felt someone trailing behind me, but I didn't spare a glance back. Instead, I picked up my sword, which had been carelessly tossed onto the table along with the rest of the group's weapons. I walked outside, letting the cool night air bite at my bare skin.
Without a word to my pursuer, I walked over to the fence and started taking biters out, one at a time, the sword soon slick with dark, sticky blood. Just like I had done for so many years, I took all my pain, all my frustration and anger, out on the creatures that took what little normalcy I had left away.
It wasn't until I felt a firm hand on my shoulder that I stopped. I turned, my eyes glowing with anger, only to be met with a sympathetic look from Daryl.
"You're pulling your stitches out," he said gently, nodding at the blood that stained my shirt. I sighed and pressed my hand against the sound, flinching as pain sheered through me again. I didn't say anything, just walked away from him, fighting my own emotions as I headed towards the prison. He followed behind me. I didn't know why he was so set on shadowing my every move, but I didn't let it bother me. Instead, I found Hershel sitting up with the tiny infant in his arms.
"She tore her stitches," Daryl informed him as he reached for the baby, who Hershel handed over without a word. I looked at the gruff, dirty man, trying to figure out what the baby was to him.
"She yours?" I asked as I sat down, allowing Hershel to tend to my wound. Daryl smiled and shook his head.
"She's Rick's little girl," he said, smiling at the baby.
"Really?" I was surprised. I hadn't seen that coming. "What happened to her mother?"
"Lori died in child birth," Hershel informed me. "Rick's been a mess ever since."
"How old…how long has it been?" I asked, choosing my words carefully.
"A little over two weeks," Daryl nodded. "That's why we need to send Maggie and Glenn out on a run tomorrow."
"I'll go too," I offered. "I know a little store that probably hasn't been picked over yet."
"You aren't going anywhere," Hershel commented. "You have to rest. Recover."
"I'm fine," I said for the millionth time.
"You won't be if that wound gets infected."
I sighed in defeat. I wasn't used to people caring. I was used to being forced to fend for myself. When Hershel was done restitching my wound, I accepted the bowl of beans Carol offered, before returning to my cell, where Maggie was sitting with Alana. I noticed the fresh braids in Alana's hair.
"Hey sweetheart," I said softly, kissing the top of the little girl's head. "Have you eaten?" She shook her head. I handed her the bowl of beans before sitting next to her.
"Thanks Maggie," I said softly to the young woman. She nodded and started to leave. "You all, you're group, you're different," I said softly.
"We care," she said simply as she left me and my adopted daughter to rest. I smiled as I snaked my arm around the little girl's shoulders, pulling her in so she was cuddled against my chest. This felt right. As hard as it was to admit, these people, this place, felt safe.