Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead - just my story line :)
"Boy, what'd I say 'bout parkin' your piece of shit bike in my garage", the nightmarish and slurred voice echoed down the halls and towards the small outdated living room.
Daryl was stretched out along a yellow worn down couch, filled with stains and cigarette burns all over it. He'd been watching some local channel for the past few hours. They didn't have cable, so it was the only thing worth watching on such a small selection. As his fathers' voice resonated through him, he rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. It was always the same routine. He'd come home after a long day of blowing his disability check on liquor and booze, and come home to strike at his only target- his son.
Daryl had become accustomed to his behavior though, and there was nothing the man could do anymore to surprise him. Some nights weren't as bad, and some nights were down right horrible; but this was his life, his fate, the only thing he knew.
"It's gonna' rain, I jus' parked it in the corner" Daryl yelled out; but there was no response, just the loud cracking open of a fresh can of beer from the kitchen.
Daryl knew it wasn't over though… nothing was over that easily when it came to his father. He turned off the TV with the remote and threw it onto the couch, and began making his way down the hall towards his room; hoping he could escape his fathers' view before he found something else to nit-pick about.
As Daryl slipped past the small kitchen doorway, his father caught sight of him and yelled out "Where ya' think your goin' boy? I ain't finished with ya'!"
Daryl gritted his teeth and continued till he reached his bedroom door. There was a very visible dent in the wooden frame, obviously from a previous altercation of some sort.
"I'm goin' to bed" Daryl shouted out as he entered his bedroom; but before he could close the door, his fathers' hand was already holding it opened.
"You think you're gonna' jus' run in your room and not say a word boy!?", his father pushed open the door, and Daryl stepped back as the older, scraggy man swayed back and forth in front of him. His eyes were glassy, and the smell of alcohol on his breath filled the entire room, "I said, why's that piece of junk sittin' in my fuckin' garage boy?!" he yelled deviously and Daryl tilted his head back in frustration, mentally scolding himself for even parking the bike there in the first place, and giving his asshole father something to bitch about.
"I'll move it, alright?" Daryl said with an aggravated tone, as he tried to cross past his father; but before he could maneuver around him, his fathers' heavy palm shoved his shoulder back, causing Daryl to stumble backwards a little.
"Too late boy" he said and then pushed him again, with a malicious grin, "you ain't gettin' away with it that easy"
"Dad, I said I'll move it alright… jus' let it go" Daryl reinstated as he again, tried to move around him; but, instead, his father swung his hand back and punched Daryl in the right eye, immediately causing him to drop his face into his hands. He'd always just let the man do whatever he wanted to him, and let him beat him till he felt satisfied enough to leave him alone; but, this time was different. Daryl's hatred for his father had been burning for years, building up and building up, and it was only a matter of time before he was going to explode. "Get the fuck away from me!" Daryl shouted as he shoved his father towards the bedroom door, trying his best not to go crazy on the old man.
His fathers' face furrowed with anger, and his eyes beamed towards Daryl. It was like he didn't even know that it was his own son standing in front of him, like he was some stranger in a bar and he was ready to beat the guy down. Daryl never understood how a father could look into the eyes of his kid and treat them the way he did. He couldn't even imagine doing those things to Sophia, he'd kill himself before ever hurting her.
"Oh, so now ya' think you're some kind of tough guy huh?" his father chortled, before striking him in the ribs with another punch. Daryl buckled forward and clenched his arms to his ribs. The pain ripped through him; but before he could react, another sharp blow clouted him on the side of the head. "Don't you ever…" his father shouted as Daryl fell to the hard wooden floor of his bedroom, "…ever…" he kicked his hard metal-toed boot into Daryl's shoulder blade, "…raise your fuckin' hands to me boy!", he kicked him one last time in the side, before pausing to watch Daryl clench his body on the floor.
Daryl just laid on the floor waiting… waiting for another hit, kick or punch to come. He didn't doubt for a second that he could possibly get up and knock his father to the ground; however, the aftermath would be even worse if he did. So, despite his anger, he did as he always done, and let him finish whatever it was that he was going to do.
"What now boy? You jus' gonna' lay there like a little bitch?" he kicked him one more time in the arm, "aren't too tough now, are ya?" Daryl just laid silently; he felt his body shaking as he tried to hold himself back. "Fuckin' pussy", his father hissed as he spit at him, "that's all you are".
When Daryl continued to stay still, never answering him back, his father finally walked out of the room laughing treacherously. Daryl waited a few minutes, until he knew for sure that his father was out of the room, and then picked himself up into a sitting position, resting his back against his bedframe. His eye was bloody, and his head and body was pounding from the hits. He clenched his hands and closed his eyes for a few minutes; it was taking everything out of him not to go after the guy and beat the living shit out of him… not to kill him.
Daryl sat there, in the same position, for a while trying to calm himself down. The only reason he put up with it all was because if he didn't, he'd have nowhere to go. The only family he had left besides Sophia was Merle, his only brother; however, he wasn't even sure if the guy was alive anymore at all. He was hauled off to jail when Daryl was only twelve years old. At first it was for minor offenses, like gang activity, and drug deals, and being that he was under eighteen, he was usually charged with minor sentences in juvenile detention. Every time he was released, he would be home for long enough to promise Daryl he'd get him away from their Dad, before he'd be hauled off again for something else. Finally, the last time Merle ever came back home, he just turned eighteen and was home for about two months. Daryl was fifteen at the time, and Merle would defend him whenever their father came home drunk looking for someone to beat on. Those two months were one of the only times when Daryl felt safe, and protected; besides when his mother was still alive; but she died when he was seven, so it had been an extremely long time since then. During those two months, Merle told Daryl that he wouldn't have to worry, and that he'd been working a deal with a couple people who would get him the money for the two of them to take off somewhere. Daryl had no idea what kind of deal he meant or what it entailed, all he knew was that he trusted his big brother, and he believed him. However, those hopes were quickly diminished the day the county police showed up at the door, with a warrant for Merles arrest. Apparently he'd been involved in a major drug and prostitution ring, and his middle man ratted him out to the police- to save himself.
Daryl could still feel the pain and the anger in his stomach; the day they hand cuffed Merle and took him away in the police car. He was so sure that Merle was going to follow through that time, and he would get him out of that house. He remembers punching what felt like a hundred holes in his bedroom walls afterwards, to cure the pain.
The next day Daryl went down to the court house to find out about his brother's whereabouts and what kind of charges he was facing. He waited in the court room for hours until they finally called Merle to the stand and his sentencing proceeded. The judge charged him with all kinds of things, ultimately leading to a six year prison sentence in the state penitentiary. Daryl couldn't believe the things Merle was being charged with, and as Merle was escorted into the back door of the courthouse by two officers, it was the last time he and his brother made eye-contact. Merle looked ashamed and gave Daryl a small nod, before disappearing out of the door; but Daryl just glared at him, with his eyes ice cold. He let him down again, and as he'd always done, he left Daryl alone.
When Daryl was twenty one, he anxiously awaited his brothers' return. It had been six years and it gave him enough time to let his anger against Merle go; however, Merle never showed up. Daryl constantly waited for him to knock on the door; but once a year past Merles' release date had come and gone, Daryl gave up thinking that his brother would ever come back. He obviously didn't care to come back for his brother, and it was quite clear that Merle wasn't the guy he'd thought he was.
By that that time Daryl was ready to take off, and find somewhere he could escape to as well; but his plans were quickly uprooted when he found out he was going to have a child. A one night fling, after a hard night of drinking, turned into a lifetime of commitment for Daryl. He thought about taking off before the kid was born; but he figured he'd be just as bad as his own father if he did that to his child, so he made the decision to stay and deal with all the chaos going on.
When Sophia was born, he and Carol, Sophia's Mom, tried to be together for their daughters' sake; but it quickly became apparent that they were not meant to be together. Daryl couldn't stand her neediness and clingy ways, and Carol couldn't stand that he kept everything he was feeling inside. Things ended romantically between them, but they vowed to raise their daughter as friends, despite their differences.
Daryl had continued to work for his uncle in a local car shop for a while; but when his uncle suddenly died from a fatal heart attack, he was left with no job, no money, and an uncertain future. He had dropped out of high school at just sixteen years old, to avoid constant questioning about the all the fresh and reoccurring bruising on his body, and although he did work hard and receive his GED, it was difficult to get a good paying job anywhere without a college degree.
He had no choice but to work quick end jobs making little or no money, which in return he would just give to Carol for Sophia, and stick it out at his fathers' house, despite the abuse and chaos. Carol knew what he was going through also, but she was in no position to offer Daryl a place to stay either. She and Sophia were cramped into her family's house with barely any room for themselves.
For the past three and a half years, Daryl just stuck it out. Dealing with everything, just so he could be close to his daughter; but something inside him was starting to feel like it was going to crash and burn. He could only take so much before he was going to lose it.
Daryl finally opened his eyes, after recollecting the past years in his mind. His body had finally calmed, and besides his father going back and forth into the kitchen a couple of times, he hadn't heard him making any sounds in the recent minutes.
Daryl wiped his hand across a line of blood dripping down his cheek, and as he stared at it on his hand, he decided that he finally had enough of it all. He had to get out of there; he had to escape the house of hell he was living in.
He slid a green duffle bag out from underneath his bed and started stuffing clothing and a couple of other things inside it. He scrounged under his mattress and pulled out a measly hundred dollars he had and through his leather jacket on. As he approached the hallway very quietly, he could smell something burning in the kitchen. He crept past the living room, where his father was passed out on the couch; one shoe on and one shoe off, and a can of beer resting on the floor beside him.
The smell was even stronger, and when he reached the kitchen there was a pot of noodles boiling on the stove, and a dish towel resting next to it was on fire. He was about to try and put it out, cursing his father's name for leaving a towel near an open flame, when he caught sight of his fathers' wallet resting on the table. He paused and stared at it; the fire starting to evolve even more on the counter. Daryl closed his eyes momentarily and as all the anger and frustration rushed back into his mind, he finally made his decision. A decision that was a long time coming.
He ran towards the table and flipped open the wallet, pulling out three hundred and forty dollars from the sleeve. He quickly placed it in his jean pocket, walked back towards the living room and stared at his father one last time.
Surprisingly, he felt no remorse. How could he? The man had beaten him so badly over the years that he could have died from all the abuse, and yet till this day, he didn't care about anyone but himself.
Daryl glanced over at the kitchen doorway, where a ton of smoke was now entering into the living room. A hundred thoughts crept through his mind as he processed his next steps, but after one last mental debate, he shook his head, and walked out the door, closing it shut behind him.
He made his way to the garage, quickly started his bike, and took off until he reached the bottom of his block. He stopped the motorcycle and stood there watching as the house went up in flames. He had no idea what he was feeling, and it seemed that with every flame he watched, another emotion took over his body. He felt relieved that the person who tortured him his entire life was gone, but he also felt guilt in knowing what was going to happen and not stopping it.
It was an outer body experience, and the mental weight of it would surly end up affecting him later on; but at that moment, he was numb. Numb to anything and everything.
When the house was completely engulfed in flames, Daryl knew his father was dead. He knew there was no chance the man had survived, and as soon as he heard the sirens blaring in the distance, he quickly restarted his bike and took off… never once looking back.
Daryl jumped up from the wooden bench, his heart racing as he rubbed his eyes and processed where he was. Police sirens blared around the bend of the park, one by one, until they finally disappeared into the darkness of the streets. He was in the park, on the bench, just as he had been when he finally fell asleep earlier that night. His heart started to slow down when he finally realized his surroundings. Every time he heard sirens, the memories would flood back, and being woken up by them was definitely something that could cause him to have heart failure.
He sat up and let a yawn escape his mouth as he glanced down at his watch to check the time. It was 5:30am, and even though he felt physically worn out, he knew there was no way he would fall back asleep after that alarming awakening. He didn't have enough money to waste on another meal at the diner, even if they were cheap, and it was way too early to show up at the shop.
He thought about what he could do to pass the time, and the only thing he could think of was riding around on his bike, until it was time for work. It was the only thing that would keep him awake and alert enough for the next three and a half hours, so it seemed like his only option. So, with that, he headed over to his bike, started it up, and took off, aimlessly.
It was finally almost nine o'clock and Daryl felt like it had been hours. After driving around in circles countless amounts of times, he ended up parking the bike in the diner parking lot, and walking to the shop, where he took a seat, leaned up against the garage door, and decided to wait out the last hour until Glen showed up to open.
Suddenly he saw Maggie and Beths' blue pickup truck pull up onto the street in front of him. He hadn't seen them since the night they went out a couple days ago; but he was praying that Beth wasn't in the car, just so her predictions about 'running into each other often' wouldn't be correct. However, sure enough, as Glen and Maggie jumped out of the car, the back door opened up as well, revealing the blonde jumping out on to the curb with a matter of factually smile. Daryl rolled his eyes as soon as he seen her smug face.
"Hey Daryl, you been waiting long?" Glen asked as he approached Daryl.
"Nah, jus' a little while"
"Oh", Glen was starting to notice that Daryl was showing up really early at the shop every morning, and usually in the same outfit as the day before, "Maggie and Beth are going to hang out in the shop for a little while, they have class in an hour"
Daryl nodded, actually uninterested with what they were doing.
Glen unlocked the door and Daryl, Maggie and Beth entered the shop behind him. Daryl quickly went into the bathroom to change into his uniform and when he returned, Maggie and Glen were making out in the corner of the garage and Beth was looking at Daryl with her eyebrows raised.
"Nice uniform" Beth said sarcastically, as she let out a laugh.
Daryl rolled his eyes and walked over towards the tool bucket, pulling out a couple of things for the day, "Wasn't my choice, but make fun all you want"
"No, uh, it's…" Beth chuckled again, "okay it's hideous"
"Well thanks for pointin' that out there" Daryl said, his tone a little irritated.
"Oh lighten up" Beth said as she crossed her arms, "I'm jus' messin' with ya"
Daryl leaned up against the red Cadillac and glanced over at Maggie and Glen, who were still locking lips, "God, do those two ever give it a rest?"
Beth laughed, "Nope. I guess I'm jus' used to it, so I don't even pay attention anymore"
Daryl shook his head and looked away almost disgusted.
"So when are you gonna let me ride that bike of yours?" Beth asked innocently, with a smirk on her face.
"I'm not" Daryl said, his eyebrow raised.
"Oh come on" Beth crossed her arms, "I told you we'd run into eachother again, and I was right… so you owe me your part of the bet"
"I don' owe you shit sweetheart, you said if you found out one of your assumptions about me were right, than I'd have to let you ride my bike"
"Whatever" she said, her face pouting, "Come on, just one ride"
Daryl looked at girl with a confused stare. What the hell was so exciting to her?
"Fine" Daryl said in an annoyed tone, and Beths' face lit up, "but one condition… I drive, you can sit on back"
Beth thought about it for a minute, it probably was a good idea that Daryl drive the bike, being that she'd never rode on a motorcycle before.
"Okay. It's a deal" she held out her hand for a shake, but Daryl looked at her hand and raised his eyebrows, before laughing.
"You're a fuckin' weirdo, ya know that?"
Beth pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, "So what time tonight?"
"Tonight? You want to do this tonight?" Daryl sighed.
"Yeah, I don't wanna' give you enough time to change your mind"
"Fine" Daryl said, "Meet me at the diner parking lot at seven"
"Seven it is" Beth said with a smile and Daryl rolled her eyes at the annoying blonde.
He glanced down at his watch and when he realized it was ten after nine, he cleared his throat loud enough to get Glens' attention.
Glen released his lips from Maggies' and Daryl pointed to his watch.
"Oh crap" Glen said as he ran to unlock the chains and open the garage door.
Daryl shook his head, partially at Glen, and partially at what he was getting himself into later on that night. He knew he'd regret saying yes to the blonde at some point.
So I know that was long, but please let me know your thoughts on Daryls' back story and also about what's going to happen when Daryl takes Beth out on the motorcycle!?
I hope you enjoyed!