Daryl was shaking as he walked away from Rick's apartment complex. He could still feel the other's hands on him, rough and insistent. He was sure that he'd find finger shaped bruises on his upper arms when he got home.

The thought that he had little choice now but to go home made Daryl feel despondent. Merle's house had never really been home for him, and it had become less so recently. His brother's vindictiveness had increased in the last six months as he drank more and consumed more and more of the drugs he was selling. He had become increasingly hostile towards Daryl, and let him feel that he was merely tolerated. Daryl knew that Merle was a homophobe, but until recently he'd kept a lid on it around Daryl.

Daryl had barely ever spoken to his brother about his homosexuality, had certainly never mentioned the fact that he had started to offer himself for money. The thought brought a laugh now. Born out of desperation, the "business model" of selling sex wasn't working all that well for Daryl. He'd had some success in the beginning, in the bars in downtown Atlanta and via Craigslist, and he had even enjoyed some of the encounters. But with the economy as it was even this kind of service was affected.

It didn't help that he'd had a couple of bad experiences with punters getting rough that had scared him badly. Especially the last one he'd been with, who had actually pulled a knife on Daryl when he refused to let himself be tied up.

Daryl usually enjoyed it when sex got a bit rough, but he'd decided that it would be too risky to do that sort of thing with men he didn't know at all. He'd only gotten out of that last encounter because he had threatened to call for help, and as they had been in a fairly busy motel the man had let him leave without more than the threat.

That had been two weeks ago, and after meeting Rick the previous Friday Daryl had seriously considered not to go back to it at all. He'd seen Rick's face when he mentioned how he earned his money, and had felt ashamed. Daryl had told the truth, as soon as he and Rick got talking Daryl had decided to try his luck with the man not for money but for pure enjoyment. He liked Rick and wanted him to think well of him.

He rephrased that. He had thought, until this evening, that Rick was a decent man and that they might be onto something more than just an occasional fuck. But then Rick had turned all weird on him, and with his last two encounters fresh in his mind Daryl had gotten scared. Why had Rick been so insistent that Daryl take his shirt off? It was such a trivial thing to get worked up about, but Daryl had a feeling that something else had been on Rick's mind and he himself had only become an accidental target.

Daryl never showed anyone his back. It was a mess of scars, from where his dad had taken his belt, and sometimes a stick, to him over most of his childhood and adolescence. Merle didn't know about it, and nobody else did either. And that's how it was going to stay, as far as Daryl was concerned.

By now he had walked about two blocks from Rick's place, in the direction they'd come from earlier. Daryl didn't know King County very well, but he knew that there was no way he'd be able to walk the twenty miles to Merle's. He had no choice but to call a taxi and pay with the money Rick had given him. Daryl felt sick at the memory of accepting the twenty dollars. He knew it had been either that or phoning Merle to get him to pick him up, which, as things stood, was worse than feeling humiliated by Rick on top of scared.

At the next crossing he pulled out his cell and called a taxi.

When he got to the house he opened the front door hesitantly. The lights were all out, but that didn't have to mean Merle was out, or asleep. One time a few weeks ago, when the drugs had made him particularly paranoid, Merle had been sitting in the dark living room and had almost given Daryl a heart attack when he got in. Daryl peered round the door carefully before entering, but the room was empty.

The house had been handsome once, and Merle had bought it with the money he made off one of his half-legal adventures. Daryl had never asked particulars about Merle's activities, just as Merle had always ignored Daryl's sexuality, at least until recently.

Now, with Merle increasingly off his head with drugs and the money coming more and more intermittently the house was nearing a point of no return into filth. Daryl's room, which he kept locked, was on the first floor, and he headed for it now. He hardly even glanced at the rest of the mess anymore; these last six months he'd spent in his room if he was in the house at all.

He didn't mind the filth as much as some people would, he and Merle had grown up in a house far worse than even this one was becoming now. He minded Merle more, and the relief to find the house deserted was strong.

In his room, Daryl started pacing. He felt wired and wrung out at the same time, and wondered vaguely when things had taken such a turn for the worse. Merle had been getting less predictable for a long time, but as long as he kept his head down Daryl thought he could have managed that. The problem was that money had never been so tight, and he had had to rely on Merle a lot for it lately. With Merle not bringing in near as much as he used to that was always a risk. The last time he'd asked his brother for some gas money he thought Merle was going to hit him. He hadn't asked since.

But now his truck was busted, and Daryl knew that he'd have to do something about that, and soon. It was still parked a mile up the road, where it had stalled when he'd gone to pick Merle up from Ed the night before. Merle never worried about whether Daryl was inconvenienced by having to pick him up, he'd just call and expect Daryl to be there in a flash.

Last night had been like that. The truck had been almost running on fumes, but Merle hadn't even let Daryl finish a sentence, just yelled down the phone to get his queer ass there, and pronto. When Daryl had gotten to the modest bungalow Ed and Carol called home he'd been annoyed to find no Merle waiting for him. He hated having to go into that house these days. Carol was looking more and more harassed every time he saw her, and it broke his heart to see her and Sophia so afraid.

He'd reluctantly gone to ring the doorbell and when Carol had opened he'd had to take a deep breath not to barge in and knock Ed on his ass. Carol's left eye was almost swollen shut, and she had bruises all around her collarbone on that side. Daryl had had hardly time to force a smile before Merle had stomped up and pulled Daryl along, muttering about the waste of space he was and how he'd now be late.

Daryl wished he had the guts to confront Ed, but the truth was, he was scared of him. Daryl knew the man was dangerous in the same way as Merle, only further gone. He had been one of Merle's best customers for years, and Daryl was sure it wasn't just pot he bought from him. Recently Merle had taken to spending more and more time with men like Ed, and Daryl had had more chances to see how badly things were going for Carol.

He was still pacing the small bedroom, biting hard on the nail of his thumb, when his cell buzzed. As if conjured by his thoughts it was Carol.

"Hey Carol, you ok?"

"Yes, yes… Daryl, have you seen Merle? Ed is waiting for him, and he's not showed up." She sounded quite frantic. "Ed's asked me to try his cell, but there's no answer, so I thought I'd check with you…"

"Sorry, Carol, he's not here. Haven't seen him all day, just came back." He hesitated. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes, fine. Listen, if he shows up, can you tell him to call? You know what Ed's like when he's… just ask him to call, ok?"

"Sure thing."

Carol didn't even say goodbye, she just hung up. Daryl resumed his pacing, worrying about Carol. She'd sounded so afraid… It was no good, he'd have to do something. Grabbing his jacket from the bed where he'd flung it only minutes earlier, Daryl hurried out of his room and down the stairs.