Part Five
So Far Gone
A week after his final conversation with Caesar Martinez, Daryl was sitting in another visitors' room of another prison. This one was only slightly different from the one he'd grown so accustomed to when he visited Merle. It was a little bigger, a little brighter from more windows letting in sunlight, a little more crowded with tables and chairs, and there were a couple less correctional officers dutifully standing by.
Off in the corner was a small family visiting their dad, talking and laughing around a table despite his orange jumpsuit and the forlorn look in his eyes. Near the door was a young couple, crying together and sniffling, struggling to speak through the tears.
Daryl chose a table in the darkest corner, only two chairs on opposite sides. He chewed at his thumbnail nervously as he watched the door, waiting for a man he knew he wouldn't recognize to walk through. Though he'd done some research of his own in the last week—such as Googling Rick Grimes' name and finding a photo of him as Sheriff's Deputy (and then his much less flattering mugshot)—he knew that being locked up for a couple years tended to change one's appearance quite a bit.
But he was hopeful. Or as hopeful as he could be in this particular situation. Rick had apparently accepted Daryl's request to visit, even though he had no idea who Daryl was. Daryl tried not to think about why Rick would accept a visit from some random stranger, but he had a feeling it had something to do with his family and friends all abandoning him after the conviction. Poor guy was probably desperate for interaction with the outside world, no matter what form it came in.
Daryl's hope did not lie in getting any actual answers or solutions out of Rick Grimes. He knew better than that. The most he was hoping for at this point was finding out exactly where Rick fucked up. And maybe, just maybe, Rick would know a little more about Beth than anyone else, considering she'd babysat for him for over two years.
Either way, Rick was his last resort. He was the only one left—besides Merle—who might be willing to believe Daryl.
A few minutes later, Rick was escorted through the door by a correctional officer. He looked nearly nothing like the photos Daryl had found. He was clad in an orange jumpsuit, half his brown hair gone gray and his beard unkempt. He was skinny, his skin pale and cheeks sallow, and he had a fading black eye. But when he sat down and looked at Daryl from across the table, there was still a spark of life in his blue eyes. He gave a nod to the CO, who nodded back and retreated, leaving the room through the door he'd come in.
But Daryl didn't miss the glaring side-eyes that the other COs in the room shot Rick's way. If there was one thing he knew about prison, it was that child predators were universally hated. They had enemies at every turn, whether it be the COs or fellow inmates. Technicalities didn't matter. Sooner or later, they all found out what exactly the conviction was for, and as soon as something like "child pornography" was involved…
Rick spoke first, his voice deep and raspy, "Daryl Dixon, right?"
Daryl simply nodded. "An' yer Rick Grimes."
"Yeah." Rick's eyes were narrowed suspiciously, looking Daryl up and down from across the table. "You some kind of investigative journalist? Or is this just another stupid podcast?"
"Nah," Daryl replied. "Nothin' like that."
"Then why're you here?"
Daryl quickly recognized the jaded look on the other man's face. That spark of life was prevalent in his eyes, but it was dim. He was beaten-down. Convinced of what everyone else assumed of him: that he was worthless scum. Hopeless. Abandoned.
Daryl cleared his throat and resituated in his seat uncomfortably, but he made a point to retain eye contact. "I, uh… wanted t'ask ya some things. About Beth."
At the mere mention of her name, Rick's entire demeanor changed. His eyes went wide and his shoulders stiffened. He swallowed hard before asking, barely more than a whisper, "Beth Greene?"
Daryl nodded. "Who else."
Rick exhaled a shuddery breath. His eyes flicked down to the tabletop, then around to the COs and the other visitors in the room before finally settling on Daryl's gaze. "What—who are you? Did she send you here?"
Daryl shook his head. "Nah, man. She don't even know I know who you are. 'S kind of a long story—my brother's bein' held in the max security prison a couple hours away. He gave me a number fer some P.I. The P.I. did some diggin' an' led me t'you."
A crease formed in Rick's brow, his bright blue eyes studying Daryl intently. He swallowed again before responding, "You her new boyfriend or somethin'?"
Daryl had to stifle a scoff. "Hell nah. More like her latest victim."
"Huh." Rick licked his lips and leaned back a bit, still looking Daryl up and down, as though he were trying to get a read on him. "So why're you here? If your little P.I. buddy looked me up, then you already know the whole story."
"'Cause I don't always believe what other people say," Daryl countered. "I wanted t'hear it straight from the horse's mouth."
At that, the corner of Rick's mouth ticked up into the hint of a smirk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and narrowed his eyes. He lowered his voice and asked, "You sure she didn't send you here? T'check up on me?"
Something about the way Rick was looking at him made Daryl's blood go cold. He stiffened in his seat and responded, "Promise ya, she ain't got nothin' t'do with this visit. I'm here of my own accord. Pretty sure she'd make me regret it if she ever found out I talked t'you."
Rick huffed out a breath and seemed to relax, but only slightly. He leaned back and said, "Yeah. She would."
Daryl shifted in his seat again. Something about the way Rick looked at him made him… uneasy. Uncomfortable. But he tried to appear calm and collected as he said, "So… ya wanna tell me your side?"
Rick blinked. Averted his gaze for a second. A far-off expression shadowed his features. Then he cleared his throat and refocused on Daryl. "My side? 'M sure ya already heard it all from your P.I. And if you didn't, the papers tell the rest."
"Like I said," Daryl insisted, "I wanna hear it straight from the horse's mouth. Yer the horse, if y'didn't catch onta that part."
There was a long moment of silence during which Rick seemed to stare off at nothing just over Daryl's shoulder. Then he shut his eyes and shook his head. Sighed deeply. "I don't… I'm not sure I even know anymore. It was-it all happened. So fuckin' fast. One minute, I was a respected Sheriff's Deputy. A father. A husband. Might not'a been exactly happily married, but we—we were makin' it work. Next thing I knew, I was bein' arrested. After that, it's all a blur."
"How long did ya know her?" Daryl asked.
Rick hummed thoughtfully. It took him several seconds to respond. "Since she was about thirteen. So… hell, I dunno, four years. Give or take."
Daryl opened his mouth to ask another question, but Rick was speaking again, as though the thoughts were just occurring in his head:
"I—she always seemed so innocent. Ya know? Like… like she wouldn't hurt a fly. Fragile. Vulnerable. Maybe even a little helpless. Always seemed like she was lookin' fer somebody to… I dunno. See her. Really see her. Protect her."
Daryl narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He waited for Rick to go on.
But Rick cleared his throat and shook his head, as though he were shaking his previous thoughts away. He met Daryl's gaze with pursed lips and said, "I wanna hear your side first."
"Huh?" Daryl asked, confused. "My side'a what?"
"What's she been doin'? How'd y'all meet? How long's she had you in her sights?"
There was a beat. Daryl remained silent, unsure of how to respond. Rick seemed to be studying him.
Then Rick asked, quieter than before, "How far has she gone? How much longer d'you think ya got 'fore she ruins yer whole life?"
Daryl gulped, his mouth gone dry.
He realized he'd come to exactly the right person.
"I, uh…" He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the tabletop anxiously. "I dunno. Not long, though."
Rick gave him an expectant look and Daryl realized he was waiting for him to answer his other questions.
He sighed and went on, "I've been livin' in an apartment complex in Atlanta fer the last few years. Managed t'make a couple friends an' all that. It's uh, it's been tough. Ever since my brother got convicted. Dunno if ya heard about 'im, but he was all over the news a few years back. Got convicted fer rapin' an killin' a senator's daughter. She was barely eighteen. Don't matter whether it really happened the way they say it did or not. They damn near crucified him anyway, dug into our family history, aired out all our dirty laundry. Ever since, it's been close to impossible t'make a life fer myself. The Dixon name doesn't go very far 'round these parts."
"Oh, yeah," Rick interjected. "I did hear about him. Shit… the brother of Merle Dixon. I'm surprised you could even find a job."
Daryl scoffed. "That makes two of us." He glanced away momentarily and went on, "The few good things I got goin' on in my life… I worked hard for 'em. Not that I ain't used t'that. Never had shit handed to me. But that makes it feel even worse when it's all ripped out from under me." He paused, hesitating. Shut his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, "Beth moved in down the hall last year. She was alone. All I did was smile at her—jus' normal neighborly shit. No different than what I did with all the other neighbors on my floor. She asked for my number. I gave it to her. Next thing I know, she's textin' me nonstop. Beggin' to hang out. To be friends or whatever. But she's young. I told her it wasn't appropriate, we was just neighbors an' I wanted t'keep it that way. Thought she took the hint. Then she turned my neighbors against me. Convinced 'em I was takin' advantage of her. Even slit her wrists an' blamed it on me."
"And they believed her," Rick surmised, unfazed.
"Yup," Daryl confirmed, raising his eyes to meet the other man's intent stare. "Only friend I had in the whole building moved out a few months later. Told me t'lose her number… 'Cause she believed Beth over me."
Rick made a grunt of understanding, leaning forward and folding his hands atop the table. Signaling for Daryl to go on.
"Then I met a girl," Daryl said. A knot formed in his throat at the mere thought of Connie. He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue, "She was real nice. Smart, funny. Real pretty. We hit it off. Even made it official. But Beth found my social media accounts. Found the girl's profile. Tracked her down at her job. Fuckin'... sabotaged the whole thing."
Once again, Rick correctly guessed, "An' the girl didn't want a damn thing t'do with you afterwards."
"Sure didn't. Maybe if my brother wasn't a convicted rapist-slash-murderer. Maybe if I'd told her about him before, or told her about what Beth had been doing—"
"Stop. You an' I both know that wouldn't've changed anything. What Beth wants… Beth gets. She always finds a way. If that girl you were seein' was a good person, I'm sure she believed everything Beth said. I mean, who wouldn't?"
Daryl stared back into Rick's eyes, finding an understanding he'd been yearning for. Downright desperate for. Something inside him seemed to crack open, and he was suddenly fighting back tears.
He sniffled and roughly rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "Y-yeah. Yeah. But that… that was just the beginning. It was like a stack'a fuckin' dominoes just waitin' t'be pushed over. Connie didn't want nothin' t'do with me. An' she was friends with my best friend—that's how we met. Once she told her what happened, there was no use. No matter what I said, Carol wasn't gonna believe me. She already had an idea in her head. All I did was demean myself. I… I lived up to the Dixon name. It was like she was expecting it. I tried t'tell her the truth. I tried. But Beth is young. Vulnerable. Innocent. I'm the bad guy. I'm the predator. I'm—"
"The snake in the grass," Rick finished for him. "Jus' waitin' for little bunny Beth t'come hoppin' along."
"'Cept nobody can see how that fuckin' bunny leapt right on top'a me," Daryl agreed. "She's been stalking me fer over a year, an' it's only gotten worse. At one point, she managed t'put a goddamn camera in my apartment. I think she's got blackmail on Connie. Knows I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize somebody else's reputation. Don't matter how much I try t'ignore her or tell her off. I even threatened her, an' all it did was…"
He trailed off, his throat gone tight at the memory.
But Rick guessed, almost immediately, "And all it did was turn her on. Make her want you more."
Daryl snapped his lips shut, unwilling to agree. He thought of the fingerprint bruises he'd left on her neck. The way she'd trailed her hand down her chest and across her breast. The damp heat he'd felt through her jeans as she pressed herself up against him. How he'd screamed in her face, demanding to know what she wanted. And how she'd gasped out, "Everything."
He had to stifle a shudder.
He finally gave a clipped nod and murmured, "Y-yeah. Sum'n like that."
To Daryl's surprise, Rick smirked. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Daryl one last appraisal with his eyes. "So you are Beth Greene's latest victim."
Daryl narrowed his eyes, frustration brewing. "Yeah. I am. An' I need to know everything you can tell me about her."
"You ain't tried talkin' to Maggie?" Rick asked, still smirking.
For a second, Daryl thought the other man was serious. Then he noticed the smirk still plastered to his face and said, "Think you already know exactly how that went."
Rick chuckled mirthlessly. "'Course I do. I knew Maggie before I ever knew her sister. She babysat my son before she went off to college."
"And?"
"And there ain't a damn person alive who could convince her that her innocent, mentally ill baby sister is a conniving, manipulative little devil. Bethy was always the angel of the family. Daddy's little girl. Mama's precious darling. Helpless an' hapless in a cruel world, just waitin' t'be preyed upon. Can't even tell you how many times I had t'go have a talk with Shawn or Maggie about beatin' up older boys for gettin' too close to Beth. After their mama passed, it only got worse. And then Shawn died in that awful accident and…" Rick shook his head, his smirk finally fading. "Li'l Bethy knows if she just takes some pills or slits her wrists an' goes to the hospital, she'll be the victim again. It's worked every. damn. time."
"But you knew Hershel, right?" Daryl asked. "Why didn't you talk to him?"
Rick rolled his eyes, tightening his arms across his chest. "You think I didn't?"
Daryl frowned.
"Never made a damn bit of difference," Rick went on. "'Beth needs help,' he said. 'Beth needs grace and patience and mercy. Beth is a kind heart; a soft soul in a hard world. She's lost so much, Rick, and at such a young age. Can't you see how my baby girl is suffering? Can't you see how all this has damn near killed her? Yes, she's sick, but she's a child. She's been dealt a bad hand over and over. But she's not conniving, she's not manipulative, and she certainly doesn't know what she's doing. How could you possibly think such a thing of her? How can you ask a father to condemn his own daughter? How dare you ask a man of God to believe an adult over an innocent teenager?'" He scoffed, resentful.
Daryl muttered, "She's got everybody wrapped around her finger."
Rick met his eyes with a hard look. "Everybody. 'Specially her family—or what's left of 'em, anyway."
"Christ." Daryl drummed his fingers atop the table again, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "I… only reason I even knew about you was 'cause I overheard Beth an' Maggie fightin' one night. After she cut her wrists open an' went to the hospital for a week. Sounded like Maggie was fed up. She mentioned three names: Jimmy, Zach, an' Rick. Seemed like she knew what was really goin' on with me. Thought she knew I was innocent. Then she called me, and…"
When he trailed off, Rick guessed, "And she threatened you. Told you Beth's gettin' help. She's on medication. Told you t'stay away from her vulnerable baby sister. T'stop whatever mind games you were playin'."
Daryl stiffened, nodding. Then he asked, "Did she…?"
Rick huffed out a breath. An air of macabre amusement. "She was one'a the witnesses who testified against me. Said she saw the texts on Beth's phone. Saw how late I dropped Beth off some nights. Claimed she saw… marks on Beth's neck a couple times. Like hickeys or bruises or somethin'."
"Jesus Christ," Daryl exhaled.
"I'm guessin' your P.I. already told you what came of Jimmy an' Zach," Rick said.
"Yeah," Daryl confirmed. "'Least what he could find. Jimmy enlisted in the Army—"
"KIA 'bout a year ago," Rick interrupted in a sad murmur, a shadow crossing his features.
"And Zach fled the state," Daryl said. "The P.I. tracked 'im down to somewhere in Montana. Gave him a call."
At that, Rick furrowed his brow with interest. "And?"
"And as soon as he heard Beth's name, he hung up an' blocked the number."
There was a long moment of silence, during which Rick stared down at the tabletop vacantly. Then he cleared his throat and lifted his gaze to meet Daryl's again. "You really wanna know my side? 'Cause the truth… it ain't gonna make ya feel no better, man. It's not…" He paused, hesitating. Licked his lips and took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh and averting his gaze almost shamefully. "It's not gonna make me sound exactly innocent."
Daryl humphed. "Didn't expect it to."
What he didn't say was that he understood. He'd already done things he was not proud of. Crossed lines he never should've even been toeing in the first place. Played into Beth's sick little games without realizing it, unable to stop himself once he knew he was playing the part.
Regardless, it didn't mean he wouldn't understand.
Rick hesitated for another long moment. He glanced around warily, lips tightly pursed. Then he exhaled through his nose and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. He kept his gaze averted downward. Shameful. And when he spoke, it was so low that Daryl had to lean forward to hear him clearly.
"I haven't… haven't talked about it in a while. Nobody believes me, anyhow. All I get around here is a lotta shit. Gotta avoid fights every other day, been spendin' a lotta time in solitary. Bad enough I was a cop, but once they find out I'm on the sex offenders list for life—they don't care. Nobody fuckin' cares about the technicalities. Whether she was seventeen or seven, it's all the same t'them."
Daryl sighed. "Yeah. Figured as much."
Rick shook his head and went on, "My memory's a li'l hazy these days. Lotta concussions. Plus it all—it all happened so fast. She turned my whole goddamn world upside-down. Just like that." He snapped his fingers. "I should'a known. The signs were all there, I just… shit. Guess I didn't know how t'read 'em. Maybe I didn't want to. Maybe I wanted t'give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I-I wanted t'give her that grace I thought she needed."
He heaved a long sigh and shook his head again. Kept his head down, his gaze focused on the table before him. Daryl could certainly relate, but he didn't speak, choosing instead to lean a little closer and listen.
Rick huffed out a breath and spoke in a low voice, "Maggie was a good girl. She's still a good woman, despite how adamantly she defends her sister. She just don't know any better. She's tough, though. I thought Beth was like her in that sense. I mean… she is. In a way. Tougher'an Maggie could ever know. But it's different. I didn't find out 'til it was too late. She seemed real innocent. Like you said. Vulnerable, like everybody else said. It was barely six months after her mama died when she started babysittin' fer me an' Lori. She was hot off the heels of the ordeal with Jimmy. I only met the kid a couple times. He seemed alright, but I knew I couldn't trust first impressions once I heard all the rumors about what went down with him an' Beth. Figured he was just a bad seed.
"Hershel practically begged me t'let Beth babysit for us. Said she needed somethin' of her own, somethin' to take pride in and occupy her time. Seemed to work fer a li'l while. She was real good with the kids. She's got this… maternal instinct about her. A natural mother. There was even some nights I'd come home an' find Beth and Lori talkin' after Carl and Judith were in bed. Lori said Beth was real fucked up about the whole Jimmy thing. Said she believed the story about the miscarriage, and how he tried to force her into an abortion. Said Beth just needed somebody to hear her out, to be on her side. I felt bad for her. Even worse after she lost her brother. Then we found out she slit her wrists an' got sent to a psych ward. We wanted to help, but we didn't know how. Hershel turned back to drinking. Twenty years sober and it was gone… just like that. But we minded our own business. Offered help, but Maggie turned it down. Fer a few months, anyway.
"All of a sudden, Beth was callin' us up, askin' if we still needed a babysitter. We tried t'turn her down. We talked about it a lot. Didn't think she could really handle any responsibility in her state of mind. But she kept pushin' and pushin'. Guess we kinda just… gave in outta pity. Figured the girl could use somethin' to keep her occupied. Maybe help her get back to normal. Get 'er outta the house a couple nights a week since we knew Hershel was drinking again and Maggie was trying to run the farm almost single-handedly. Not to mention, I was workin' long hours. Lori was still tryin' to keep her job, havin' to work even harder after she had Judith an' took maternity leave. Hell, there were a lotta nights she was workin' even later than me. So yeah, we thought havin' Beth watch the kids a couple nights a week would be equally beneficial. And it was… For a little while.
"Then she started blowin' us off every other week. Said she was seein' a new guy. Zach. He went to the college about an hour away. She seemed downright smitten. Me an' Lori didn't make a fuss. We figured it was good for her—actin' like a real teenager, falling in love with some new boy. Then it… well, it fell apart real fast. I don't even know what happened. Couldn't tell ya if I wanted to—still don't know the whole story. All I know is Beth showed up one Friday night, damn near three in the morning, half-drunk an' cryin' her eyes out. She wanted to talk to Lori. They spent two hours in the living room, an' I could hear her crying the whole time. Lori never did tell me what they talked about. All she said was Beth trusted her, that she'd asked her to keep it between them. So I respected that. Two weeks later, I found out Zach had been arrested for date-rape. But it wasn't Beth. It was some other girl he went to school with.
"And Beth… well, she seemed hurt fer a bit. Just a bit. Then it was like it never happened at all. Or at least when it mattered. She knew when to pull the sympathy card. Knew exactly when to bring it up an' use it to her benefit. T'make herself look pitiful."
At that, Rick paused. Took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the tabletop before him. His lips pursed and Daryl could see him swallowing thickly. Saw the way his shoulders tensed. How the muscles in his neck tightened.
Finally, Rick sighed and shook his head, blinking rapidly as though he were fighting back tears.
"She… the-the first time…" He paused again. Hesitated. His eyes flicked up to meet Daryl's, finding only curiosity rather than judgment. Then he said, "Listen, I know. I'm an adult. I should've put a stop to it before it ever began. I should've… should've done a lotta things…" His voice trailed off.
Daryl cleared his throat and muttered, "I ain't here t'pass judgment. Don't care. Jus' tell me what happened. All of it. I need t'know what I'm dealin' with."
I need to know exactly where you fucked up so bad that there was no going back, he didn't say.
Rick nodded. His jaw tightened for a moment and he looked away. Then he continued, "Me an' Lori were havin' some issues. We were talkin' about lookin' into couple's counseling. Jus' never got around to it, I guess. We were startin' to resent each other. It-it's complicated. My best friend—my partner—offered t'step in an' help out with the kids. Me an' Shane had been best friends since high school. When he stepped up, I thought it was just his way of repaying me for all those years I kept watch while he fooled around with girls in the janitors' closet at school. I mean, he was Carl and Judith's godfather. He was the Best Man at my wedding. None'a that matters, though. Never really mattered, now that I think about it.
"Me an' Lori were fightin' a lot. Not spending enough time together between our jobs and the kids. She called me an 'absent father.' I started resenting her for it. That was my first mistake. My next mistake was trusting Beth… She was still stickin' around. Watchin' the kids for us. Offerin' to take on more babysitting shifts so we could have a night out together every once in a while. But no matter what night it was, I always gave her a ride home. The farm was about a twenty minute's drive out. Wasn't like she could walk, and Maggie was always busy with somethin' else, or Hershel was too drunk to drive. I… I took pity on her. Just wanted to help. The first night we kissed, it was… it was an accident. A mistake."
Daryl fought to conceal his true emotions, but it seemed that Rick could sense them regardless. He met Daryl's eyes with a rather pitiful look, which quickly turned to shame. Shook his head and scoffed at himself.
"Yeah, I know," Rick muttered. "It just—she caught me off-guard. I don't remember what we were talkin' about, but the subject drifted to Lori an' Shane. Beth said somethin' about-about seein' them talking, or-or hugging too long. Somethin' stupid like that. I started crying. Couldn't fuckin' stop it. I told her about what Lori had said to me that day. How she'd claimed I didn't care about her right in front of Carl. Felt like my soul was bein' torn in two. And Beth leaned in. Put a hand on my leg. Told me it'd be okay. She said—she said Lori didn't really understand me. Put this idea in my head that Lori had never really understood me, that she couldn't understand the weight that was on my shoulders. Next thing I knew, Beth was in my lap. She was straddling me, kissing me, whisperin' in my ear that it'd be okay. That everything would be… that it'd be okay."
Rick was visibly blinking back tears. Sniffling. Then he was shaking his head, as though he were trying to rid himself of those thoughts. Of that memory.
"It was awful," he murmured. "It was wrong. It was so fuckin' wrong. I knew it. She was fuckin' seventeen years old."
Daryl didn't need to speak. He knew his words would only be empty and meaningless. Because they would only speak everything Rick had already experienced and felt. They would only echo his deepest regrets.
A moment passed, during which Rick rubbed roughly at his eyes and sniffled, taking in a shuddering breath and struggling to regain his composure. When he finally did, he kept his eyes locked on his own folded hands before him and explained, "Gets blurry after that. Felt like it happened way too fast. Way too… suddenly. Beth started comin' over more often, volunteering to babysit even when she knew we didn't need her. Started…" He paused to tongue the inside of his cheek, almost thoughtful. "Started cornering me. In the hallway, on the porch, in the car. Kissed me a couple more times, even though I tried to tell her it was inappropriate. Tried to reject her. She started texting me all kinds of crazy things—pictures an' videos an' whatnot. I tried to brush her off. Tried to ignore it. Even went as far as tryin' to talk to Lori about it, but she barely listened. Said I was bein' confrontational for no reason, that I was lookin' for excuses to keep her trapped in the house with the kids, to hinder her career. 'Course, I couldn't tell her exactly what Beth was doin'. Couldn't show her the shit Beth was sendin' me, 'cause that would'a meant admitting we'd kissed. Woulda meant admitting I was a piece'a shit who-who took advantage of a depressed teenager. So… I kept my mouth shut. Prayed it would pass. Tried to set firmer boundaries." He sighed dejectedly. "Never worked. Beth doesn't understand boundaries. Even if she did, they wouldn't stop her. I don't think anything can stop her once she's got her sights set on what she wants.
"Then I was givin' her a ride home one night and… and I was weak. Goddammit, I was weak." He heaved a defeated sigh, biting back more tears. "Couple days before, I'd caught Shane an' Lori in the act. Kissing. They didn't expect me home so early. Damn near knocked Shane out. Didn't speak a word to Lori afterwards except to tell her we needed that goddamn couple's counseling. So I was holdin' a lot in. Fightin' some battles of my own.
"It was a Thursday. I remember, 'cause me an' Lori had another fight before I left for work that morning. When I came home, she was already in bed. And Beth was waitin' up for me. Waitin' for a ride home. And something… something changed that night. Like I said, I was weak. Real fuckin' weak."
He finally lifted his gaze to meet Daryl's. His eyes were a bottomless ocean of regret.
"She didn't know—we didn't say shit to her about what was goin' on with our marriage besides what she'd witnessed herself. I never spoke to her about it again after that first night she kissed me. But somehow, she knew. All the little details. She always knows. Swear, it's like she can sense when you're weak. She kept askin' questions. Kept prying. I snapped at her. Told her to mind her own fucking business. Told her maybe it'd be better if she stayed away fer a while. Then she went real quiet. Looked at me with those big ol' fuckin' doe eyes. Said she understood. Started ramblin', all teary-eyed, about how she saw Lori as a mother figure, saw Carl and Judith as her own, saw me as… I'ono. Christ, I don't know. I'll never know. 'Cause I was fuckin' stupid an' she never finished the sentence. We were inches apart. Her hand was on my leg. She was leanin' in so close, talkin' about how much it hurt that Jimmy had abused her, that Zach had betrayed her, that she could relate to the way Lori was betraying me. Talkin' about how nobody would ever understand me, how Shane was takin' advantage of me, how Lori was takin' me for granted, how Carl and Judith would never really respect me as a father. And then she was jus' leaning in—I could smell her breath, she was so close. Next thing I knew, her lips were on mine. And then she wasn't in the passenger seat. Wasn't in my lap. We were in the backseat. She was fuckin' begging for it. She—"
"She was seventeen," Daryl interjected sharply, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight.
Rick stopped, leaning back in his chair. Yet he seemed unaffected, somehow. Desensitized. "You said y'wanna hear it all."
Daryl had to force himself to relax. To sit back and nod, breathing heavily through his nostrils and keeping his mouth shut. Had to remind himself that he wasn't here to pass judgment.
Had to remind himself that he'd given in to that primal heat in his lower gut a time or two. That he'd only been able to climax to the thought of his hand around her throat, or her crotch pressing up against his.
Besides, was seventeen all that different from twenty-one when they were both fully grown men in their thirties?
He pursed his lips and gave a clipped nod.
"She was seventeen," Rick continued lowly. "It was wrong. Kept tellin' myself that. Yet it was like she knew. She knew all that shit, even though me an' Lori hadn't told her. She used it against me. Told me how Lori didn't respect me, didn't love me no more, that the counseling wouldn't do shit except make me look worse. Told me how Shane thought I was a joke. Told me how nobody would take my side—how nobody would ever really understand me. How Carl and Judith would never see me as a real father, especially compared to Shane. How nobody knew… how nobody really knew what was goin' on except her. I was already weak, and she made me weaker. Made me feel like I had nobody to trust but her. And the next thing I knew, she was on top of me in the backseat. She was tellin' me all the shit I was desperate to hear.
"But she was threatening me, too. Tellin' me nobody'd believe me. Not with the shit she'd sent me on my phone. She was… she was sayin' we could be happy together. That she'd help me keep my kids. That she'd fight for me. She laid me down and whispered in my ear all the shit I wanted to hear… even though she was workin' on taking it all away."
His voice trailed off and he began chewing on his lower lip, his eyes taking on that vacant, far-away look for a long moment. Daryl didn't speak. He remained quiet, studying the other man's expression and finding only bare honesty. And deep, deep shame. Regret far beyond that of a simple mistake.
Finally, Rick blinked and shook his head. Heaved an exasperated sigh.
He lowered his voice but still didn't meet Daryl's eyes as he went on, "Wasn't even like sex. Was more like she was having sex with me. I was just kinda… there. Giving in. Now, I-I know that don't excuse it. It's not an excuse. I'm just—goddammit. I dunno. I'd give just about anything t'go back an' take it all back. 'Sall I can think about some days; all the ways things could'a been okay if I'd just done certain things a little bit different."
When he went silent again, staring down at the tabletop and his own white-knuckled hands, Daryl cleared his throat.
"So… then what?"
Rick humphed. "Then I made an even bigger mistake."
Daryl narrowed his eyes. "How so?"
"Drove 'er home. Told her with tears in my eyes that that shit wouldn't ever be happening again. Told her it was a lapse in judgment, that I wasn't sure what the hell happened or why I let it happen. She started crying. Started yellin' at me, accusing me of takin' advantage of her. I tried to calm her down. Tried to explain that she was right—she was right, I did kinda take advantage of her, and I accepted the blame for that. I was the adult and she was the teenager and it was wrong. It was all so wrong. But whatever idea she had in her head, it-it needed to stop. I never meant for it to go so far. Never meant for it to start in the first place. I was a married man. I had children. A family. She was just a hurt, confused girl. She needed help, and not from me. I needed help, too, but not from her. Told 'er she couldn't help me, no matter what kinda ideas she had in her head. And I… I don't think I'll ever forget the way she looked at me. What she said."
He paused. Blinked long and slow. Took in a shuddering breath and swallowed hard.
"She was all teary-eyed again. Lip trembling an' everything. She said, 'You love me, just admit it. You need me.' I jus' kinda shook my head. She reached over an' tried to touch me again, but I pushed her hand away. I tried to be gentle. I said, 'No, Beth, I love my wife and I love my kids. I need my marriage to work. I need Lori. But you? I never needed you. I'm sorry. I love you, but I'll never love you in the way you think I do. And you don't need me. You need somebody who can really understand you, somebody who can give you the help you've been needing ever since your mama died.'
"And then the tears stopped. Like she just flipped a switch. She got this-this look on her face. Never saw her look at me so… so cold before. She went all stiff. She was downright glaring at me. Then she said, 'You'll never know how good you could've had it, Rick. We could've been happy together. I could've made you happy for the rest of your life. But now, I have to make you regret it. So you can see just how bad you fucked up. You'll never go another day without thinkin' about me, and you're gonna miss me so bad once it's all over.'"
He finished with a gulp, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to rid himself of her voice in his head.
A chill ran down Daryl's spine. He wasn't sure what to say. How to respond. If he even should say anything.
Yet the words poured from his mouth regardless, "I asked her what she wanted from me."
Rick raised his head immediately, locking eyes with Daryl. "You did?"
Daryl nodded, unblinking. "I was drinkin'. At the end of my rope. She's damn near made me a recluse 'cause I get so paranoid about leavin' my apartment. Dunno why, I just… feel like she's gonna ambush me or somethin' every time I pass by her door. She caught me in the hallway and I… I lost it. Had her against the wall by her throat. I was screamin' in her face. All I saw was red. Just kept asking, 'what d'you fuckin' want from me?'"
Rick blinked. "And what'd she say?"
Daryl swallowed hard. "She said, 'Everything.'"
Rick's face went pale. He muttered shakily, "She means it. She fucking means it, Daryl Dixon."
"I know." There was a beat. A moment of silence that hung heavy in the air between them. Then Daryl asked, "How'd she manage t'nail you down so hard? Heard your own wife testified against you. How the hell did that happen?"
"Shit." Rick took in a deep breath and exhaled, tightening his hands together atop the table and averting his gaze once again. "That's one thing I never really figured out. Well—I figured it out, I think. But I'll never know for certain. Just a guess. But… apparently, Lori found some fuckin' Polaroids in my nightstand. Under a bunch'a old paperwork. I hadn't touched that drawer in years. It was a locked drawer. Only me an' Lori had the keys to it. And the pictures were—well, figure you can guess what they were. She turned 'em in two days after Beth went to the police. I'd never seen 'em before in my life, but nobody believed me. Not with Beth's black eye and the rape kit and all the shit on my phone. Christ, I thought I'd deleted it all, but sometimes I think she took it when I wasn't lookin' an' put more shit on there to incriminate me. She knew I wouldn't find it, but the investigators would. Same with the Polaroids."
"How'd she get that black eye, anyhow?" Daryl couldn't help asking.
Rick shrugged. "Fuck if I know. Pro'lly gave it to herself. Just like the hickeys on her neck—or bruises or whatever. I never left a single mark on that girl. Never let myself go that far, thankfully."
His eyes flicked up to meet Daryl's, and there was a hint of accusation in his gaze. Daryl tightened his jaw but said nothing.
He already knew he'd fucked up. He didn't need to hear it aloud.
"Thing is," Rick murmured, gaze still locked with Daryl's, "I know what I did was wrong. I know I deserved to be punished. I just… never imagined myself bein' that guy. Never thought I'd ever let myself go as far as I did. But Beth… she-she did somethin' to me. Somethin' I can't ever explain to anybody. By the time I went to trial, I felt like I was goin' crazy. Like I was losin' my goddamn mind. Like-like she'd dragged me down to where she was and I'd never get out. Never be sane again. Reality was a lie, nobody believed me, I was suddenly public enemy number one. But nobody could see her for who she really was. Couldn't see what she was doin'.
"They… they still can't. And quite frankly, I'm not sure they ever will. Only reason I'm tellin' you is 'cause I ain't got anything more t'lose. And I think you might be the only one who can understand that."
The silence hung between them for a moment. Then Daryl sighed. "Yeah. That's… why I came here. I've been feelin' the same fuckin' way."
Rick rubbed at his eyes and leaned back in his chair before running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I dunno what t'tell ya, man. You've got my side now. Does it make you feel any better?"
Daryl chewed at the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to chew at his thumbnail. He rasped out, "Honestly? No. Not really."
Rick chuckled with no hint of amusement. "Didn't think it would."
Daryl glanced around and realized nearly everyone else in the visitors' room was gone. He caught the gaze of a CO in the corner, who tapped his wristwatch pointedly.
"Think our time's about up," Daryl muttered. "There anythin' else you think I should know?"
Rick shrugged. "Nothin' that would help. I'd tell you t'move as far away from her as possible, but I'm sure you've already explored that option. 'S not easy to escape her grasp once you're in it. Reckon she'll just find ya an' make you regret ever bein' alive."
Daryl humphed. "Yeah. She's made that pretty clear."
There was a few seconds of awkward silence, during which neither man knew what to say or how to end the interaction. Daryl decided to rip the bandage off and scooted his chair back, moving to stand up. But when he opened his mouth to bid Rick goodbye, Rick spoke.
"Listen, I know this might be kinda weird," he said, "but could you… could you do me a favor?"
Daryl furrowed his brow, unsure. But he figured it was the least he could do. Whatever this man who'd just spilled his heart out needed, surely it couldn't be too much to ask. "Wha's that?"
Rick cleared his throat awkwardly and averted his gaze. "I, uh… Nobody ever visits or calls. Nobody writes me. Every now an' then, my brother sends a picture of my kids, but I haven't heard from him in almost a year. I think Lori might'a caught wind of what he was doin' an' shut it down. But Beth… she-she was writin' me letters. No return address or anything, never put her name in the letters, otherwise they wouldn't let it get to me, but they were… kinda nice. I just—it gets lonely, ya know? I'm gonna be in here for at least the next decade. I don't have anybody, and spendin' so much time in solitary is really startin' t'fuck me up."
Daryl stiffened, staring across the table at the other man with utter bewilderment. He didn't even know what to say.
Rick met his eyes for only a second before glancing away again as he said, "But I haven't gotten anything from her in about six months. Probably since she became so infatuated with you. Can… well, I know you don't wanna talk to 'er. But I reckon you probably won't have much choice. So could you just—could you ask her to write me again?"
Daryl blinked, at a loss for words.
"Just for old times' sake," Rick quickly added.
At that, Daryl grunted. "Uh, sure, man. I'll… I'll see what I can do."
Rick smiled weakly. "Thanks. And it was nice meetin' ya, Daryl. If you ever need t'talk again, I'll keep you on my visitor's list."
Daryl nodded and murmured, "Alright."
He didn't know what else to say, so he simply stood up and pushed his chair back in.
On his way out the door, he glanced back and saw Rick still hunched over the table. He was staring straight ahead at the far wall across from him, a blank expression on his face. And the vacant look in his eyes was enough to assure Daryl that he was already too far gone.
What Beth had done to that man was far beyond fixing. She'd ruined him.
Daryl suddenly understood why Rick had been so doubtful in the beginning. Why he'd questioned whether Daryl had been sent by Beth to "check up" on him.
It wasn't paranoia.
He was her perfect victim… and she'd left him in here to rot alone.
Three days after his visit with Rick, Daryl came home from work to find a blank envelope had been slid beneath his door.
With shaky hands, he picked it up and unsealed it, fully expecting more lewd photos from Beth. But to his relief, there were no photos. Only two pieces of paper.
The first he slid out was a short note written on a folded slip of yellow legal pad paper. It read:
D,
After he blocked my number, I went the extra mile and sent a letter to his last known address in that other state. Didn't expect him to respond. But he did. No return address, but there was a postmark. I threw it out just in case. Included only the letter. Never know who might get their hands on this.
Just thought you'd want to see what he said.
Can't say I didn't go above and beyond. You're welcome.
-CM
Daryl's hands were still trembling as he extracted the second piece of paper. It was written on plain white printer paper.
A short, handwritten letter that read:
To Whom It May Concern,
If you're reading this, you probably already know how much shit you've gotten yourself in. I don't know how it happened or whether you started it. Chances are, she started it all. She usually does.
The point is, you have no idea what you're really dealing with. There's a reason I left and moved thousands of miles away. My family and friends back home don't talk to me anymore. They all wrote me off. If I could've afforded to get farther away, I would have. My next destination is out of this country. Every day, I wake up in fear that she'll find me and ruin everything I've tried to make for myself. Again. I read all about what she did to RG. That would've been me if I hadn't hauled ass out of that place. That will be you if you don't do the same.
What she managed to do to me was only half of what she's capable of. And less than half of what she had planned.
From one stupid man to another: Get out. Get away. Get as far from her as you possibly can.
It's sad how she's had to live in her sister's shadow her whole life, huh? Sad how her mama died, and then her brother. She's so innocent. And pretty. She's got a nice singing voice. She writes pretty songs and plays the guitar like an angel. She seems real sweet and caring. Like she needs some help, or somebody to understand her. She's had a rough life. Those scars on her wrists are a bitch to look at. She's just a little damaged. Just needs a little love and care and some healing. Maybe some new meds that will actually work. Just needs somebody to see her for who she is.
IT'S A LIE.
She won't stop. She doesn't care. She will RUIN you. She will take everything you have, and then she'll keep taking. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't matter whether or not you love her or care about her. If you're not ready to spend the rest of your life with her and literally die with her, she WILL make you regret it.
Hope this helps. But I kind of doubt it will. If you're calling me, you're probably already too far gone.
Good luck.
-Z
PS: Don't contact me again. I'm moving.
Daryl's blood went cold. He read back over the letter twice, three times, four times. Every time, his hands got a little shakier. Until he had to drop it and stumble over to the couch to sit down.
He was breathing heavily, heart pounding, head gone light.
Too far gone, he thought. Over and over and over.
Zach had only dated her for a small amount of time, yet she'd managed to damn near ruin his life. To the point that he'd had to flee the state and move thousands of miles away.
So what did that bode for Daryl?
Nothing good, he knew.
Was he the next Rick Grimes? The next Jimmy? The next Zach?
Was he already too far gone?
The meeting with Rick and the letter from Zach did nothing to ease Daryl's mind, nor did they offer him any solutions. In fact, they did quite the opposite. He felt himself falling further down into the pit of loneliness and despair that he'd been slowly sinking into over the last several months. His paranoia was building higher now that both Rick's and Zach's words were swirling around inside his head.
He felt cornered. Trapped like an animal, ready to gnaw off his own arm to escape. But that wouldn't free him, he knew. Beth would simply find him and take the rest of his limbs as compensation.
She hadn't texted him or approached him in the last week, but he knew that didn't mean anything. Every morning when he left for work, and every evening when he returned home, he could hear her playing the guitar and singing loudly from inside her apartment. It was like she was taunting him.
One night, he grew so desperate that he dialed Carol's number. But even though he prayed she would pick up, the call went straight to voicemail.
She'd blocked his number.
The nightmares haunted him every single night now. No matter how drunk he got, he couldn't sleep dreamlessly. He saw his mother's face and the jagged scars on her arms, smelled the smoke, saw the fire, felt the warm embrace of her body against his—but it grew hot, too hot, until he felt as though he were being engulfed in flames right along with her. She kept changing and morphing, sometimes into Connie, sometimes into Carol, but always into Beth. And then he woke up sweaty and gasping for breath, his throat burning and parched.
He was thinking about those pills more and more often. Fighting the urge to reach out to one of his old dealers—why had he kept their numbers? Had he always known he'd be dragged back down to this point? This place of deprivation and desperation that inevitably led him to the old addictions he knew would give him blissful respite, if even for just a few hours?
Nearly two weeks after his visit to the prison where Rick was held, Daryl received a new text message from an unknown number. He knew it was Beth before he even opened it, yet that didn't stop him from reading it.
I hate your cold shoulder. But I love you. I miss you.
That night, he drank himself to sleep once again. And the nightmares returned in full force, more vivid than ever. The fear that pulsed through him didn't subside when he woke up. He had to chain smoke three cigarettes out his open window before he could steady his own breathing.
When he left for work, he passed by Beth's door and heard her playing a new song.
"…she could really rip your world apart, mind over matter, the beauty is there, but a beast is in the heart—oh-oh, here she comes. Watch out, boy, she'll chew you up, oh-oh, here she comes, she's a maneater…"
He had to stifle a shudder as he quickened his pace to the elevator.
The next day, he was off work—sitting inside his apartment, surrounded by empty bottles and various discarded DoorDash bags, sipping on his fourth glass of whiskey by noon—when his phone rang. It was Merle.
Daryl cleared his throat and tried to sound somewhat coherent as he answered, "Y'ello?"
"Daryl." Merle sounded serious and stern for once, straight to the point. "What's the deal, li'l brother? Ain't heard from ya in a while."
Daryl sighed. "Sorry, jus'... got caught up."
"With what? Did Martinez work out or not? He helped ya, right? 'Cause if he turned ya down or left ya hangin', I got some people I can call—"
"Nah, he-he did. He helped. Did everythin' he could, anyway."
"So what's the news? We still got a problem with the pretty li'l blonde stalker?"
Daryl hesitated. Grunted. Then he replied, "Ain't no way out, man."
Merle scoffed, his voice rising in disbelief. "Excuse me? What the fuck does that mean?"
Daryl shook his head, shutting his eyes and resting his forehead in one hand. "Martinez got me in contact with the last guy Beth got… obsessed with. He was a Sheriff's Deputy. Married with two kids. He's servin' a ten-to-fifteen year sentence. Divorced now. Can't see his kids. Registered as a violent sex offender for life."
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Daryl didn't know what else to say. Figured there wasn't anything else that needed to be said.
Then Merle humphed and said, "So? How does that apply t'you?"
"I paid him a visit, man," Daryl snapped back. "He's fuckin' hopeless. Ain't got nobody left. She ruined his fucking life."
"Alright," Merle said. "So he made some dumbass mistakes—that means you won't make the same mistakes."
Daryl wanted to laugh. Instead, he exhaled and explained, "Nah, it means I'm… I'm already too far gone. She's got me-got me fuckin' cornered. I-I'm trapped."
"Bullshit."
"It wasn't even just the Sheriff's Deputy. There was two guys before him. One of 'em is dead. The other one ran all the way to Montana jus' to get away from her. Sent me a letter."
There was another silence, then Merle cleared his throat and asked, "An' what'd it say?"
"A lot. Basically told me ta run. As fast an' far away as I can. But it…" Daryl swallowed hard. Grabbed his glass from the coffee table and took a swig. Felt it burn down his throat. "It wasn't an answer. Just a warning. An' from the sounds of it… there ain't no gettin' out now. She's already got too much on me. 'F I try t'leave, she'll make me regret it."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Merle murmured.
Daryl could picture his brother in his head: sitting on the phone in prison, head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut and an exasperated frown on his face.
Several moments of silence fell between them, to the point that Daryl pulled the phone away from his ear just to glance at the screen and assure the call hadn't dropped. Then Merle sighed heavily. His voice lowered to barely more than a raspy whisper.
"Listen, I—I ain't try'na put no more shit in yer head, but I was gettin' worried. Not just 'cause ya ain't called, but… I got this letter."
Daryl's heart skipped. His stomach twisted up. "Letter?"
"Yeah. No return address. Atlanta postmark. Thought it might'a been from you."
"What's it say?"
There was a beat. Merle hesitated. "I'on't think it's anything t'really worry about, baby brother, 'f I'm tellin' ya the truth—"
"What's it say, Merle?"
Merle sighed. "Not much. I'on't even know how she found me."
"Not hard," Daryl said plainly. "All it takes is a fuckin' Google search."
"This fuckin' internet thing's a real pain in the ass, huh."
"What's the letter say?"
Another sigh. A beat of hesitation. Then, "All it said was, 'he's mine, welcome to the family, can't wait to have a new brother.'"
A chill ran down Daryl's spine. He tightened his jaw and grit his teeth. Grabbed his glass of whiskey and drained the rest in one quick gulp.
When he didn't respond, Merle asked, "It's her, ain't it? Gotta be."
"Gotta be," Daryl murmured.
"She's nuttier'an squirrel shit, Daryl," Merle said, an edge of worry in his tone. "Maybe… maybe you oughta try'an haul ass outta there. Sooner rather than later."
"Already told you—"
"You ain't trapped. Not yet. What if-what if you can get some proof that she's settin' you up? Ain't you thought about that?"
"An' how the fuck would I do that?"
"Shit, I dunno. You ain't as stupid as ya look, though. There's about a million fuckin' ways t'do it. Don't you got one'a them smartphones now? The ones that can record shit?"
Daryl paused. "Yeah… so?"
"So? So fuckin' confront her! Take yer fancy goddamn phone. Put it in yer pocket or sum'n. Get 'er all unsuspectin' like, then record her. Bait her into sayin' some'a that batshit crazy stuff she always says. Get it straight outta her mouth. Y'say she can incriminate you—fuckin' incriminate her right back! It's not goddamn rocket science! If this bitch is just as stupid as every other twenty-somethin'-year-old broad I've ever met, she'll say somethin' dumb, an' then you take that to the cops an' nip the whole thing in the bud. Or take it to 'er sister, her daddy, who-the-fuck-ever. Show everybody who she really is… before she tries to show everybody who you really are."
"Who I really am? I never did shit—"
"You put yer goddamn hands on her, boy!"
Daryl snapped his lips shut. He inhaled long and slow, exhaling with a shuddering breath.
"Look," Merle went on, "I'm jus' try'na look out for ya. If yer as far gone as ya claim ya are, then this is about yer only fuckin' option. Otherwise… what the fuck're you gonna do?"
Daryl didn't know what else to say.
He sure as hell wasn't about to admit that Merle was right.
When Daryl didn't speak, Merle said, "All things aside, ya got two options. The same two options ya ever had."
Daryl grunted. "An' what're those?"
"You can either stay down an' let this kill ya… or you can get the fuck up an' keep goin'."
There was a long silence. Daryl could hear Merle sucking on his teeth thoughtfully from the other end of the phone.
Finally, Daryl said, "Fine. I'll… I'll give it a try. But—"
"Daryl, listen t'me fer just a minute," Merle interjected, his voice low and quiet. "And I mean seriously fuckin' listen."
"Yeah," Daryl grunted. "I'm listenin'."
Merle sighed. Then, in a tone that sounded more emotional than Daryl could ever remember hearing from him, he said, "You gotta try. Really try. 'Cause I—I can't do it, baby brother. I can't take back all the stupid shit I did. I'm the one that's too far gone, ya hear? I'm the one that ended up more like our old man than I ever…" He paused and Daryl could hear him swallowing hard, taking a deep breath. On the exhale, he continued, "I never wanted none'a this fer you. I always wanted somethin' better, I jus' couldn't figure out how t'do it. But you did. You figured it out. You're doin' better without me around, an' I want you ta keep it that way. Got it? You can't let this crazy bitch be the end'a you. D'you hear me, boy? You can't let her make you just like me. You can't. You gotta—you gotta be different. You gotta be better. If there was even an ounce'a good left in ol' Will Dixon, it was you, and it left the day he spit yer li'l sperm out his dick. So you gotta do it. Be. Better. Not fer me, not fer Dad, not even fer Mama. Fer you."
The memory of Carol's words echoed in Daryl's mind: "You were breaking the cycle."
Daryl didn't realize tears had pooled in his eyes until he felt one escape and slide down his cheek. He had to swallow past a lump in his throat and blink rapidly before responding. "Y-yeah. No. I got it. I'll…"
"Do not let this bitch trap you," Merle reiterated firmly. "Do whatever the hell you gotta do, but if you end up behind bars like me, I'll come find you an' kill ya myself. And that's a goddamn promise." Then he chuckled coldly.
But Daryl could tell there was no true amusement or taunting behind it. Merle was simply trying to mask his own moment of emotional vulnerability.
Daryl cleared his throat and nodded, even though Merle couldn't see him. "I know."
And he did. He knew exactly what his brother meant.
Sometimes, he thought, love meant threats of bodily harm and death.
Because that was just how love worked.