Chapter Eight: Hurt

Upon waking up, Merle immediately notices two things. The first being that the room is now enveloped in the dusky light that only accompanies the early Georgia evenings. The second is that he is starving and his stomach's growling is only exacerbated by the delicious smell of cooking food that has invaded the apartment. Merle slowly moves himself to the edge of the bed and sits up, not daring to get out of bed knowing he still is extremely weak. Before he can call out to catch someone's attention, Mitch is at his bedside with a tray of food.

"I was going to wake you for lunch but you were right passed out. Figured you need the sleep anyway," she smiles at Merle as she arranges the food in front of him. He wonders how the hell someone could always be smiling when the world outside has gone to shit. He was just about to open his mouth and say something snarky to the woman when the sight of his meal distracts him. Mitch notices him eyeballing the food and comments, "It's nothing fancy but it should do the trick."

Merle hadn't seen this hearty of a meal in weeks. He mumbles, "mhmm" as he grabs what appears to be a biscuit and dunks it into the bowl of soup. He rapidly devours the soup-soaked biscuit and goes to grab a spoon with his right hand. He quickly realizes his mistake and anger begins to bubble within as he awkwardly tries to eat with a utensil in his left hand for the first time in his life.

Mitch notices Merle's frowning face as he struggles to eat with his non-dominant hand, "It'll get easier with time. Don't be too hard on yourself in the meantime."

Merle slams his spoon down on the TV tray, spilling some soup on himself, "How longs that fuckin' 'sposed ya take huh? Whatcha fuckin' know 'bout this shit anyway woman? Like ya ever had a hard day in ya life... Always smiling an shit..."

Mitch sighs, "You'll figure it out one way or the other... I mean you did manage to survive the initial amputation and infection..."

"Ya whatever. Jus leave me 'lone," Merle mutters as he attempts to eat with the spoon once more, managing to shakily get a mouthful of the steaming stew in his mouth.

"No I'm not going anywhere," Mitch mumbles. Merle shoots her a death glare then continues to devour his meal. She shrugs her shoulders, unfazed by his expression, "I'm not giving up that easily. Can't give up in humanity and my humility that like that. Not that many living people left, in case you haven't noticed, and if we can't help each other out, what's the point?" She sees that Merle is taken aback by her statement and the two sit in silence for several minutes, the only sounds are those being made by Merle slurping food off his spoon. In order to break the silence, Mitch asks, "How'd you lose your hand in the first place? Been wondering since you got here."

Between mouthfuls of stew, Merle replies, "Cut it off muh-self."

"Why? Did one of those things bite you?" Mitch asks as she moves from the bed to the rocking chair.

"Ya sure ask alota questions woman," Merle grumbles but responds to her questions regardless, "Naw wasn't bite. Got chained ta a roof. Had ta cut muh-self free before them biters got ta me. Merle smiles to himself at the look or horror on Mitch's face, "Now can I eat I or are ya gonna keep pesterin' me wit' questions?"

Mitch shrugs her shoulders but remains seated in the rocking chair, "Fine. I'll just read. I need to change your bandage and give you antibiotics once you're done," she picks up her book and Merle goes back to his food.

Eating never felt so good as it did now. He was pretty sure the stew was from a can, but it was warmed up which beat eating it cold out of the tin. The fruit cocktail, something he never cared for in his pre-apocalyptic days, was just the right amount of sweet. Merle polishes off everything on his tray and loudly licks his fingers in order to get Mitch's attention, "Ya can do ya thang now suga' tits."

Mitch raises an eyebrow at Merle, "Sugar tits? Really? Thought you were more clever than that," She smirks as she gets out of the chair. She grabs some sort of liquid-filled bag and hooks it up to Merle's IV. She notices the questioning look on his face and says, "it's the antibiotics. Probably another day or two on the IV stuff then you can take pills for another week. To make sure we definitely kill off the infection."

"Oh..." Merle was hopeful she was giving him some more pain medication. He could tell that the previous drugs were mostly out of his system and his pain was starting to act up. That, and he was itching for his next high, "What about somethin' for pain?"

Mitch grabs a small medicine cup that had been sitting on the bedside table and hands it to Merle, "I don't have anymore IV stuff left... my uncle used the last of it this afternoon. Here's some T3's... its all I've got," she says apologetically.

He pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them whole, washing them back with a sip of water from his bottle. He gives her a half-smile, "Meh, better than nothin'. Let's get this done."

Merle can still feel twinges of pain as Mitch takes his old bandage off, "Looking better already," Mitch smiles as she inspects the wound bed.

Merle peers down at his stump and almost gags, thinking to himself that there is no way in hell it could be looking better. The end of his arm looks like ground beef, all bloodied and raw, although he can see a few areas that look to be in the healing process. However, some of his stump remains pusy and infected, a couple spots even look black. In order to get his mind off the carnage that used to be the site where his hand connected to his arm, he asks, "Whatcha readin'?"

Mitch looks up from cleaning Merle's wound and smiles, "The second book from Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. One of my favourites. Let's me escape this crap-tastic existence of mine."

"Know whatcha mean. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was my favourite way ta 'scape my life," Merle smiles at the surprised looks that appears on Mitch's face, "What? Didn't think I'd be a Twain fan?"

"Naw. I'm just surprised you could even read at all," she jokingly nudges his shoulder with her free hand.

Merle smiles at the memory that forms before his eyes, "Ya. Used ta secretly read ta Daryl after we went ta bed. He'd watch me readin', looked at me like I was some kinda god. Us huddled under the blankets with a flashlight," he briefly chuckles at the thought but then his blue eyes darken, "Problem was if Pa caught us... I'd get one hella beatin'. He always said books are for pussies..."

"Shitty..." Mitch finishes wrapping his stump and tapes the new bandage up. In order to lighten the mood, Mitch jokes, "Shoulda just read him the articles in your playboys instead."

"How'd such a sweet thang like ya know about that, huh?" Merle asks as her looks her up and down, thinking that she looks stunning in the fading light and how he can't wait to feel her tight pussy wrapped about his cock.

"My mom's boyfriends would leave them lying around. I was a curious kid," she shrugs.

"Boyfriends? No dad around?" Merle asks. He finds himself wanting to learn more about this woman which was odd for him, considering that the most he usually wanted to get to know a chick was how she felt on the inside.

"Nope..." Mitch pauses, unsure whether or not she wants to tell Merle the truth. After a few seconds she continues, "overdosed on heroin when I was three. Closest I ever had to a dad was uncle Ed and Owen. Hell, they were more parental to me than my own mom."

Merle immediately feels terrible for some of his earlier comments. He hated that about himself sometimes. Always assuming that no one out there could possibly have had it as bad as him. This woman had been through hardship too. He can see the hurt in her hazel eyes, now glassy from held back tears. He knows it must be a painful subject for Mitch, but he wants to find out more, and from the looks of her, she wants to talk about it too. Merle clears his throat, "Sorry 'bout ya Pa. What about ya Mama?"

"I moved in with Uncle Ed and Owen when I was twelve and haven't seen or heard from her much since," Mitch's voice is full of hurt and disdain. Her hazel eyes look far more green than ever before, the colour change clearly brought on by the seething hate for the one who birthed her, "it's her fault my dad overdosed... When they first met, my dad thought he could change my mom, you know, save her. Uncle Ed thought the same thing too. A knight in shining armour to save his failing sister. For a while she did better. Turns out she only quit the stuff cuz she was pregnant with me... but the moment she pushed me out, she was right back at it and she took my dad down with her. Got him hooked on heroin too. I was taken away and put in foster care cuz they would forget I even existed when they were fucked up... Days without food. Never clean. At least I don't really remember any of that..."

"I know what ya mean. Both Ma and Pa were drunks... Was jus me an' Daryl against the world for the most part..." Merle states, realizing for the first time that he had far more in common with Mitch than he could ever have imagined.

Mitch gives a small smile at Merle's attempt at empathy, "I wish that was all that... that bitch did to me but ya... She did get herself off the heroin and I was able to live with her again. It was fine for a bit, but you know, once an addict always and addict. This time she got her fix from having sex with random men, and lots of them. Started drinking too. That stuff never affected me or bothered me cuz at least I was always clothed and fed. But then I got tall and grew boobs and those creeps... Well was why I left home."

"Jesus... Looks like we both came from scum... Least ya did some good wit ya life... I jus jumped on into the scum pound..." Merle mutters.

Mitch shrugs, "We all have our vices..."

She is interrupted by Owen, who rushes into the room exclaiming, "Michelle, it's Ed. Come quick. Something's not right."

"I'll talk to you in the morning Merle. The bathroom is two doors to the left and lots to eat in the kitchen. Help yourself," Mitch says as she heads to Ed's room leaving Merle to be alone with his thoughts.